#and might even request for it in front of the chefs

[sinful-lanterns]

Silly thought but Cabernet, being a food critic that she is, using marker on you after sex, doodling five stars above your pussy deeming it a five star meal.

Or

Cabernet, after tasting : It's... passable but nothing will be better than this one meal I had in my life.

Chef, wanting to know what it was so he can try and re-create it : Can I ask for the name of such dish?

Cabby, not batting an eye and staring deeply into his eyes. Unblinking. : my wife's cunt.

HAIDJWJDJ. Cabernet’s favorite meal is no longer grapes. It’s her wife’s pussy 👌

Imagine if during the Insatiable Fiesta event, she tastes McGrath’s cooking and is like “mm, it’s alright.” And McGrath who is desperate, asks Cabernet what she would like to eat as she would make it right away for her! Imagine McGrath’s surprise when Cabernet immediately goes “you have my wife here?” And she instantly begins salivating at the thought.

Good luck to any chefs trying to recreate your pussy taste for Cabernet 😭😭

[ghostwhippet]

From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones. 

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to. 

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour. 

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching eagerness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together. 

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier. 

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours. 

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge. 

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely to be swept away by someone else too soon.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth. 

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once. 

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

“Oh?” 

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. “Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits. 

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?” 

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can’t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You really don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

[zolass]

Loving Hands Bottom Male Reader x Top Deaf Male

request by @romeeeeez

So first of all thanks for the req, second of all I love Sign it was so dead ass chefs kiss. I mostly wanted this to be fluff, while also not making it too much like Sign (even tho I forgot a lot of what happened in the manhwa already)

I kinda like the name Helyas might use it one day for smt else if I remember- but anyways enjoy the fluff and I'm still welcoming requests.

Of course I also hope I was able to satisfy my dear requester!

cw: none just fluff and a kiss. 1.6k words

The first time you saw him, was in a small get together with friends. Your own friends had dragged you along to get out and meet people. It wasn't like you were that shy of people, but you oftentimes were happy with the simple small friend group that you had.

You didn't need a lot of people to feel seen, so you didn't think of expanding the group until that day. 

It wasn't a big party, like in a club. Actually it was in a backyard of a home, with three men arguing over who would take the part of grilling the meat and any sorts of vegetables. 

While some women were in the kitchen, making small plates of delicate finger foods, put together nicely to make it visually appealing. Of course it got a lot of praise, even from you.

But that was the moment where you noticed him.

He didn't speak his praise loudly like the other's, he made gestures with his hands, unknowingly to you, he talked with them instead, expressing how pleased he was with the food.

At first you were confused, even asked one of your close friends who this man was. “Oh that's Helyas, he's deaf so.. don't be rude okay? His friends are really protective of him,” one of your friends had explained, you only nodded at that time. 

First you were unsure if you should approach him, even going so far to observe how others conversed with him, while some answered with their own hands, others spoke slowly that he could somewhat read their lips.

Then the time came, after the meat was grilled where everyone sat together. And that was where you took your chance to sit next to Helyas. 

Helyas was surprised by your actions, like some of the people around, but you simply looked up at the taller male with blonde hair that brushed over his broad shoulders, and waved with a smile. 

The taller male had awkwardly done the same, before both of you focused on the plates in front of you. But it was easier said than done, because a heavy blush settled on your cheeks.

Helyas smile was scorched into your brain.

Of course someone had to notice, pointing it out in a teasing voice, gaining the attention shortly from the other's except the man beside you who just focused on his food.

Luckily nobody seemed to point it out towards the handsome man, which you were obviously glad for. That was until everyone started their own conversation, losing the focus on you and Helyas.

Taking your chance, you grabbed your phone and opened the notes app. Before typing something in, and holding it closer towards the blonde, hoping he would see it without feeling invaded.

When the brown eyes focused on you, before flicking up to your own e/c eyes, you wanted to shrink into yourself in embarrassment. Mostly because the man in front of you was just so handsome.

‘Heyy :))’ read the text you had typed in, which might've been what surprised Helyas the most – beside the fact that you seemed so open to get to know him. He felt like he could relax, as he saw no judgement or any the likes in your eyes.

‘Hey.’ was the rather dry text you got back and if you wouldn't be able to see the small inviting smile on the man's lips, you would've thought he didn't want you to converse with him.

‘I’m Y/n, nice to meet you.’ you reached your phone back over shyly, until you felt him gently taking the phone back from your hands. The slight graze of your fingers, sent a slight prickling feeling through your fingers, while your heart beat accelerated. 

God, if someone could hear your heart. . .

You were distracted for a short moment, until the phone was back in your view, slowly grabbing hold on it, as you looked up at Helyas, then your eyes focused back on your phone.

‘Helyas, nice to meet you Y/n. And I figure that someone has told you I'm deaf.’ Helyas was stating a fact, which made even your neck heat up as you looked up at the male and nodded.

Suddenly there was a new weight on top of your head, then it moved slightly from side to side. It didn't take long for you to figure out that it was actually Helyas hand on top of your head.

That night the two of you held a long conversation over various topics, while also getting to know each other better. It was the start of a blooming friendship – accompanied by your own blossoming feelings in your heart.

‘I’ll soon be there!’ you quickly pushed the text into your phone before sending it over to Helyas. 

The chat between the two of you was packed, after the day of the get together you two had exchanged numbers, texting on a daily basis, even going so far to meet up in person again.

Just the two of you.

Now it has been three and a half good years of your friendship, while your crush started to develop into love towards the other male. Yet you never told him, not ready to get your feelings hurt and possibly endanger the friendship the two of you had.

It was still a good friendship the two of you held, even the others of your now merged friend group noticed.

To them it was painfully obvious how you tiptoed around the other with your feelings, almost trying to convince you that Helyas felt the same about you.

But you shook these words off – not entirely as it was normal to have these thoughts cling to one's mind especially if it is someone you have feelings for.

Now you were meeting up with Helyas to have a small picnic in said man's garden, in the same one that you met him the first time.

He greeted you, after you knocked on the wooden door to his home, he happily gestured with his hand for you to step in. After you stepped in, you saw that Helyas actually prepared a lot of food already which made your stomach grumble in excitement at the sight.

Early in your friendship you had actually found out that Helyas is really phenomenal at cooking, you even said he could be a world chef with his dishes – he embarrassedly told you that you were exaggerating his skills.

Which to your defense, you weren't.

With a large blanket on the ground of the neatly trimmed grass, with the two of you happily eating the food and chatting with each other over the phone, you felt progressively more reckless, which the other obviously notices.

‘Are you okay?’ The text was accompanied by his worried brown eyes focused solely on you. You nodded and swallowed, before grabbing your phone and typing in a text yourself. 

‘I want to show you something’ was displayed on the screen, and you could see the confusion on the blonde's face, who despite the confusion nodded.

“Here goes nothing,” you whispered to yourself, before you raised your hand while trying to remember exactly how to gesture and move your hands.

And then you started, while Helyas was even more confused yet focused on your hands.

Slowly and a bit shaky you started to sign, ‘I like you very much’ you signed to him while your face was flushed. 

When you finished, you waited while nothing happened, and for a short moment you thought you had actually signed something wrong, before you were swiftly pulled into a strong and warm embrace.

Hot breath grazed the skin of your neck, while Helyas’ face was pushed right against your neck. Then he pulled back, and when you looked into the blonde's brown eyes, you saw them basically sparkle from happiness and excitement.

Letting go of you, he used his own hands to talk, ‘Since when do you know sign language’ the question was one of the few you learned especially for this moment so you knew what to sign back.

‘Only a bit, I started after we met’ and it was true, you were so interested in the deaf man that didn't speak because of it, that you even envied some of your friends that knew and understood sign language, so you made it your goal to learn as much as you can – you had some struggles memorizing the hand movements and sometimes even mixing some words and hand gestures up.

But you kept going, which made it possible to surprise Helyas and seeing his face so bright and happy made every second worth it all over again that you put into learning and practicing.

Yet you could see a slight change in Helyas, it happened so fast you wouldn't have even realized what happened, if it wasn't for the pair of plump lips pressed against your own, pulling you into a passionate kiss. 

Helyas had pushed you down, with his body hovering over yours as he simply kissed you. It wasn't like you would complain – no instead you lifted your arms, one curled around Helyas neck, while the fingers of your other hand tangled into the blonde locks, while the two of you melted into the kiss.

When your lips parted and your eyes locked, you knew this was the start of a new chapter, especially after a raspy and slightly unsure voice sounded in your ear, “I love you.”

You were not the only one who had practiced on something, and exactly that made your heart melt while you fell even more in love with the man on top of you.

“I love you too.”

[fear-is-truth]

dare i say ur the best squid game writer?? the namgyu hcs was def the most accurate depiction of his character ive seen ! showed his insecurities so well. chefs kiss. speakinggg of if ur taking requests from him. what abt reader finally breaking up w him? like tired of all the toxicity. how would he react?

BREAKING UP WITH NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

a/n. omg tysm for the kind words !! i loved the idea for your request, and i hope i did it justice ! thank you again for trusting me with it ♡

at first, nam-gyu’s reaction would be pure deflection. he’d scoff, roll his eyes, and act like he doesn’t care. “fine, go,” he’d say, his tone dripping with venom. “you think i can’t live without you? watch me.” his pride wouldn’t let him admit how much it hurts, so he’d lash out, throwing barbed words your way in an attempt to make you second-guess yourself. it’s a classic manipulation tactic—turning the blame onto you, acting like you’re the one overreacting or being unreasonable.

but as soon as you walk away, he’d start spiralling—anger would segue into panic. he’d start analysing on all the moments he pushed you too far. there would be some level of guilt, but instead of owning up to it, he’d try to convince himself it wasn’t his fault—or worse, blame you for “giving up on him.”

when hours or days pass without a word from you, he’d start calling or texting, alternating between anger (“don’t you dare ignore me”) and desperation (“just tell me what you want me to do”)

when he realises you’re serious and not coming back, he’d oscillate between two extremes. on one hand, he’d try to manipulate you into staying by pulling every card he can think of: guilt-tripping, love-bombing, even reminding you of the good times to make you question your decision. he’d say something like, “you’re just gonna throw all of this away? after everything i’ve done for you?” or, “no one else will care about you the way i do.” not because he doesn’t care (he does care. a lot) it’s because he doesn’t know how else to express his desperation.

on the other hand, he’d also act like he doesn’t give a fuck to protect his ego. he’d put on a front, telling you to go and that he’s fine without you. he’d go to work, or use loads of drugs, just to prove (to himself more than anyone else) that he doesn’t need you. but deep down, he’d feel hollow. every time he numbs himself, it’d just make him think of you more.

if he’s really desperate, and you’ve been ignoring his attempts to get your attention, this might be the moment where he shows an almost childlike side of himself. he’d show up at your door, completely disheveled, and beg you to stay. he’d get on his knees if he thought it’d work, his pride be damned.

after the breakup, if you don’t take him back, he’d probably spiral even worse. he’d rely heavily on unhealthy coping mechanisms—drugs, drinking, or surrounding himself with people who don’t actually care about him. but no matter how hard he tries to distract himself, his mind would always drift back to you. he’d fixate on what he did wrong, though he wouldn’t know how to fix it.

if you did give him a second chance after all this, he’d try to be better, but it’d be a slow, messy process. nam-gyu doesn’t know how to handle his emotions or build a healthy relationship, so even his attempts at improving would be kinda flawed. but the fear of losing you again would drive him to at least try—though whether or not he can actually change is another story.

[hoe4hotchner]

can you dooooo, secret relationship with reader owning a 5 star restraunt??? the entire team goes there on rossi's dime and everyone finds out because the chef keeps coming to the table again and again and hotch was given a dessert he didnt order and all of his food was removed from the bill??

Étoile | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Chef fem!reader | WC: 1k | CW: Fluff, food, wine

A/N: I honestly just realized that I forgot the part about the bill.

The scent of roasted garlic, seared steak, and freshly baked bread filled the air as Hotch followed the rest of his team into Étoile. Everyone in the city seemed to rave about the five-star restaurant. The interior was a masterpiece of elegance — something that looked like it came straight out of a French Château — with its low lighting, polished wood and golden accents, and flickering candlelight casting a glow over the tables.

Rossi had insisted on treating the team to a celebratory dinner after their caseload lately, and he had, of course, spared no expense.

The team marveled as they were led to their table — a spot tucked into a private alcove that provided a perfect view of the open kitchen. Hotch felt a flicker of nerves as he glanced in that direction, and his eyes found you instantly, at the center of the busy kitchen, directing your staff with a calm yet authoritative nature to you — one that was rarely seen in the field.

You looked brilliant in your chef's coat, hair neatly tied back, your focus shifting seamlessly from one task to another. Hotch quickly looked away, feigning interest in the wine menu as the host seated them. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to notice how intently his gaze lingered on you.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

Just as the team settled into their seats, you stepped out of the kitchen, your confident stride drawing their attention immediately. A polite, professional smile curved your lips as you approached the table.

"Good evening, everyone," you greeted warmly, your voice carrying easily over the soft hum of the restaurant. "Welcome to Étoile. I’m the executive chef and owner, (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to have you dining with us tonight."

“Wow,” Garcia said, her eyes wide as she glanced around the dining room before settling on you. “This place is gorgeous! And you own it? That’s amazing!”

You offered her a genuine smile. “Thank you. I hope you’ll all enjoy tonight’s menu. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Your gaze flicked ever so briefly to Hotch, the corner of your mouth lifting in a barely perceptible smile. It was a fleeting glance, gone almost as quickly as it came, but Hotch caught it — and so did Rossi, though he said nothing.

The team, oblivious to the exchange, returned their attention to their menus, already discussing what they might order. Hotch, on the other hand, shifted in his seat, his nerves bubbling just beneath his exterior.

As the evening went on, the telltale signs of your connection to each other began to unfold.

You checked on their table personally — not once, but several times, despite the fact that the restaurant was fully booked. Each time, you lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, your smile a little softer when your eyes met Hotch’s.

When the entrees arrived, Hotch’s plate was different from what he’d ordered. It wasn’t a mistake; it was a refined, elegant dish not listed on the menu. The server placed it in front of him with a knowing smile.

“This is Chef’s special request,” the server explained.

Hotch blinked, his expression giving away nothing, though he was certain his team noticed the slight shift in his posture.

“Special request, huh?” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing the plate. “Man, must be nice to get VIP treatment.”

Hotch only gave a tight smile, his response curt. “I’m sure it’s just part of the service.”

The night continued, the atmosphere lively as the team enjoyed their meal and laughed over Rossi’s insistence on ordering the most expensive wine. But the final nail in the coffin came with dessert.

The team had ordered a selection to share — an assortment of tarts, soufflés, and pastries. But when the desserts were brought out, the server placed an additional plate in front of Hotch — a chocolate soufflé adorned with a delicate swirl of raspberry coulis and a small chocolate garnish.

Hotch frowned. “I didn’t order this.”

The server smiled, unfazed. “Compliments of the chef.”

Morgan arched a brow, his curiosity piqued. “Compliments of the chef? Again? Alright, Hotch, what’s going on here?”

“Yeah,” JJ chimed in, grinning. “You’ve been getting the royal treatment all night.”

Hotch opened his mouth to deflect, but before he could respond, Rossi leaned forward, his tone teasing. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed, Aaron. The chef herself has been hovering over this table like a moth to a flame.”

Garcia’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. Wait a second — Hotch, do you know her? Like, know her know her?”

Before Hotch could say anything, you appeared at the table once more, a light laugh escaping your lips as you held up your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, don’t be too hard on him. It’s true.”

The team turned to stare at you.

“Hotch and I…” You glanced at him with a soft smile. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

For a moment, there was a stunned silence over the group. Then Morgan let out a low whistle.

“Hotch,” he said, shaking his head in mock disbelief, “you’ve been holding out on us. A five-star chef? Man, you’re full of surprises.”

Garcia clapped her hands together. “This is amazing! I have so many questions. How did you meet? How long has this been going on? Oh, and please tell me he helps you in the kitchen sometimes because I’m picturing it, and it’s adorable!” The pictures played in her brain, mixing with the memory of cooking omelets with Hotch.

As the team bombarded you both with questions, Hotch met your gaze across the table, a faint blush shading his cheeks. Despite the exposure of your relationship, a warmth spread in his chest.

You reached out to squeeze his hand briefly before pulling away, your voice tinged with humor as you answered the team’s questions to the best of your abilities, making sure not to overstep Hotch's boundaries with the information you let pass.

[solxamber]

hello hello! hope your well^^

For the mini holiday event,

[Octavinelle, 2, Comedy]

Is that OK? If your inbox is flooded w requests, feel free to skip mine, though!

it's completely fine! i'm having so much fun with this event so don't worry about it!

Kitchen Nightmare || Floyd Leech

For the Holiday Event! || Theme: Cooking/Baking together ; Genre: Comedy

You should’ve known better than to trust Floyd in a kitchen.

“Floyd, what are you doing?”

Floyd’s standing at the stove, humming an off-key tune with the most ominous grin you’ve ever seen. His sleeves are rolled up, there’s an entire octopus dangling from his hands, and the pot on the stove is bubbling ominously like a witch’s cauldron.

“Cookin’,” he chirps, completely unbothered. “What’s it look like, Shrimpy?”

“It looks like you’re summoning a sea monster.”

“Even better! We’re havin’ octopus stew!”

You freeze. “Floyd, Azul's an octo-mer”

“Yup! That’s why it’s extra funny.”

Before you can question that logic, the door creaks open, and in walks Azul. He takes one look at Floyd’s wild grin, the bubbling pot, and the suspiciously large octopus carcass being stuffed into it headfirst. The sound of Floyd’s cackling fills the room like background music to a horror movie.

Azul pauses mid-step. “...I’ll come back later.”

He turns and backs away so quickly, it’s like you just caught him fleeing a crime scene.

“Azul, wait! HELP ME!” you yell, but he’s already gone.

Floyd snorts, clearly pleased. “Heh, Boss is such a scaredy fish. S’not like it’s his cousin.”

You gape at him. “Is it your cousin?!”

“Nah,” he says cheerfully. “But wouldn’t that make it more exciting?”

“Floyd, that’s disturbing.”

He doesn’t answer, just stirs the pot like the unhinged chef he is, muttering things like, “Nice and tender~” and “This’ll be so good it’ll knock your fins off.”

Your survival instincts kick in. “You know what? I think I’ll stick to sandwiches.”

“Nuh-uh, Shrimpy!”

You don’t even have time to blink before Floyd’s behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other waving a spoonful of ominous-looking stew in front of your face like it’s some sort of prize.

“Come on, just one bite~”

“Floyd, I will scream.”

“Oh~ Then I’ll just make you louder.” He’s grinning way too much for your liking, and you’re pretty sure he’s not letting go until you try the stew.

“Fine! FINE!” You swat at the spoon, grabbing it from him with an overly dramatic sigh. “But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

He lets you go with a triumphant hum, leaning way too close as you hesitantly bring the spoon to your mouth. You close your eyes, fully prepared for disaster.

And then—

It’s… good.

You freeze mid-chew. Your brain can’t even process it properly. “Wait a minute.”

Floyd beams. “Told ya it’d knock your fins off!”

“Floyd, what the hell—this is actually delicious.”

“Right?!”

You stare at the stew like it’s personally betrayed you. “No. No way. There’s no reason it should taste this good when it looks like that.”

Floyd’s grinning so wide you’re worried his face might split in two. “Guess I’m just a natural-born chef, huh?”

You glance at him, then back at the spoon, and then back at him again, spiraling into some sort of crisis. “I don’t understand. This is unfair. I was ready to mock you for life.”

“Guess you’ll have to praise me instead,” Floyd sing-songs, rocking back and forth on his heels. “C’mon, admit it, Shrimpy! I’m amazin’!”

You sigh, dramatically collapsing against the counter. “I hate that you’re good at this. I’m so conflicted.”

Floyd cackles, shoving another spoonful toward you like a proud toddler. “Here, eat more! I made enough to feed, like, the whole ocean.”

“I’ll eat it, but I refuse to compliment you further,” you grumble, accepting the bite begrudgingly.

Floyd’s grin only widens as he watches you eat. “You’re so fun to mess with, Shrimpy~”

And for once, you can’t even argue with him.

Masterlist

[fluentmoviequoter]

Second First Mother's Day

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!wife!reader

Summary: Angela and Nyla take you out for a late Mother's Day gift, and Tim is left alone while your friends care for your babies.

Warnings/Word Count: fluff, flirty!Tim, 1.6k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

If Tim has to hear one more comment about how long this week has been, he might cut it short himself. He’s been working nonstop for nearly three weeks, leaving you to care for your twins. He misses you, he thinks as he enters the bullpen. It doesn’t take him long to find Lucy after that.

“I can’t believe I won,” she gushes to Angela and Nolan. “I entered because- I mean, of course I did. Now I get free food forever? I don’t think anything will ever top this!”

“Wesley took me to their grand opening,” Angela says. “It’s really good food, and the chef is incredibly nice.”

“Who are you taking first?” Nolan inquires. “You said you could take people with you. Maybe someone who came into this job with you as a rookie?”

“Smooth, Nolan,” Nyla interjects from her desk.

“I’m actually taking my best friend,” Lucy murmurs. “But I’ll take you soon, I promise!”

“You’re taking Mrs. Bradford?” Angela clarifies, smiling. “Does Tim know?”

“I mean, does he need to? It’s my gift - a combination birthday present and belated Mother’s Day experience,” Lucy explains.

Around the corner, Tim rolls his eyes. He fails to convince even himself that he isn’t upset. His friends can find time to be with you and enjoy your company, but your own husband can’t. Someone calls his name, and he abandons his eavesdropping position to assist another officer with a rowdy suspect.

“When are you taking her?” Nyla demands, standing. “Because Angela and I called dibs on her tomorrow.”

“Uh, Friday? Wait, if you’re taking her somewhere tomorrow and Tim is working, who’s watching the boys?”

“Well, we were going to ask you about that,” Angela says. “Aaron already agreed.”

“Why are you taking her out?” Nolan wonders.

“It’s a late Mother’s Day gift. It’s much more enjoyable to celebrate after Mother’s Day because the weather is usually better, and the crowds aren’t as atrocious. Plus, you can pass off the kids if it isn’t actually the day you’re supposed to spend with them.”

“That’s… that’s genius,” Nolan mumbles.

“I’ll talk to Aaron,” Lucy assures Angela. “We’ll be there.”

You’re enjoying a quiet day with your twins when the doorbell rings. With your brows drawn together, you approach the front door and look through the peephole. Lucy and Aaron are standing outside, each holding bags and whispering. You hold Ryan against your chest as you unlock and open the door, smiling as you invite your babies’ godparents inside.

“Hi,” you greet softly. “Did I forget something?”

“Nope,” Aaron answers, dropping his bags so he can pick your other son up. “Hi, little buddy,” he murmurs.

“We’re here to babysit,” Lucy tells you.

“Oh, I don’t need a babysitter today,” you begin.

“Yes, you do,” Nyla interrupts, entering the still-open door.

“Get ready,” Angela adds from behind her. “We’re taking you out.”

Lucy glances at her smartwatch, then asks, “Is it okay if Brody comes over?”

“Of course,” you say over your shoulder, watching Angela and Nyla. Their smiles are too similar to Tim’s before he does something that pushes you past your comfort zone.

“We’re going to the fair,” Angela says, grabbing your shoulders to steer you to your bedroom while Lucy takes Ryan from your arms.

“Five Minutes,” Nyla barks. Aaron’s eyes widen as he shrugs, and she gestures to the baby in his arms. “My turn.”

“He’s literally named after me, Harper. Why can’t you hold Ryan?” Aaron argues.

“Because…” She takes the baby, smiling smugly when he giggles and smiles up at her. “Because Thor here knows that I’m closer to an Avenger than any of you could ever dream of being.”

“Wrong Thor,” Lucy points out. When Nyla turns to glare at her, she rescinds, “Maybe it is, how would I know?”

“We’re ready!” Angela announces when you return.

You say bye to your boys, then thank Aaron and Lucy for watching them. As you embark on a day out with two fellow mothers and women who have become your best friends and greatest supporters, you get excited to live like a kid again, even if it’s just for a day.

Tim pulls his phone out of his pocket while he’s on break. The empty break room seems to laugh at him; the soft hum of the air conditioner and intermittent whirring of the vending machines amplify the silence.

Tim types a message to check on you and the boys. You usually reply within two minutes, but five long minutes pass in the discomfort of the station with no response. Tim shoves his phone into his pocket as he stands, able to feel his grumpy attitude worsening. As he exits the break room, however, he slides to a stop and forgets about the message.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Aaron and Lucy turn quickly, smiling as they approach him with his sons tucked safely in their converted car seat carriers. Lucy’s boyfriend – who Tim doesn’t bother to greet – lingers behind them with his military K9, Parker.

“Where’s my wife?” Tim demands.

“Out with Harper and Lopez,” Aaron answers. “They’re treating her to a day off for Mother’s Day, just a little late.”

Tim’s jaw clenches before he nods. You deserve it, but he would have liked to have been in the loop about it. Maybe he could have taken the day off and been home with your sons to greet you when you returned.

“Alright,” Tim grumbles, “I’ll take them.”

He reaches for Thor’s carrier, but Aaron steps back and shakes his head.

“Thorsen,” Tim warns.

“We took a vow, Tim,” Lucy explains, moving closer to Brody as if he can protect her – or would want to get between her and Tim. “They’re out responsibility today, and we will protect them with our lives.”

“Right,” Aaron agrees. “Thor is safe.”

“Bradford!” Wade calls, stepping out of his office. He smiles at the sight of Ryan and Thor, then asks, “Do you need a minute?”

“Apparently not,” Tim snaps, directed more at Aaron and Lucy. “What do you need, sir?”

“He makes my drill sergeant seem like a nun,” Brody whispers, reaching down to pet Parker.

“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies.

Nyla makes a wrong turn on the way back to your house, but you don’t say anything. You have an unread message from Tim, but it was so long ago that you assume he’s figured out that you’re safe.

“Last stop,” Angela says when Nyla enters a parking lot.

Lucy waves at you, standing beside the patio entrance of a new restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. You notice that she doesn’t have either of your sons with her and assume they’re both with Aaron. He has your trust and respect, so the idea doesn’t bother you. Brody and Parker are at the table, and he stands to greet you, wishing you a happy belated Mother’s Day and slipping you an envelope with ‘Happy Birthday – Brody and Parker (and Lucy)’ written across it.

“You guys have done too much,” you say as you sit between Nyla and Lucy. “Let me pay for this.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard the good news!” Lucy begins, launching into an explanation of how she won a raffle for free food for life. Friends and family included.

“… so, when he scales the wall, the CO is like, ‘what did you give that dog?’” Brody says, continuing the story he started in the car. “My buddy Jake just goes rigid and yells, ‘That’s why his name is Parker, sir. He’s named for the legendary Peter Parker, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.’”

You laugh at his impression of his friend as Lucy uses her key to open your front door. You’re sure Tim has regretted the decision to share it with her a few times – and not just because he’s threatened to change the locks. As you enter with your friends, you see Tim sitting on the couch, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as he looks at Aaron. Nyla, Angela, and Brody walk straight to the small playpen set up by the window to play with your babies.

Tim’s mopey look disappears for a second when Parker jumps onto the couch and plops his head on Tim’s lap, wagging his tail when Kojo joins him on the other side.

“Hi,” you say, walking toward him. “Are you okay?”

“Did you have a good time?” he inquires, letting his arms fall before he reaches for your hand.

“I did.”

Tim nods slowly, then interlaces his fingers with yours. “Then I’m good. But if those people don’t get out of our house right now, I will change the locks.”

“Let’s go, Parker!” Lucy calls, standing quickly and waving over her shoulder.

“Thank you!” you tell them, waving as Tim stands beside you.

“Sir,” Brody murmurs, nodding as he clips Parker’s leash to his harness.

“They were just being nice,” you point out as the door closes.

Tim lifts his hands to cup your cheeks, looking between your eyes as he sighs. “Love of my life,” he begins, his voice low.

You drop your eyes, but he’s holding you, so you can’t get away from him. Drawing your shoulders up, you try to keep yourself from melting into his hands and giving him something he can use against you.

“They didn’t tell me,” Tim adds. “But, as long as you had a good day, maybe it’s okay.”

“Wasn’t as special as the first mother’s day with you,” you whisper.

“And it never will be.”

Tim kisses you before you can reply, and your boys coo together like they’re cheering for you.

[revasserium]

Can i request OPLA zoro where he doesn't get along with reader but calls her my girl in front of a baratie waiter who was flirting with her.

my girl

zoro; 2,438 words; fluff, kinda enemies to lovers, fem!reader, straw hat!reader, lots of banter, slow...burn?

summary: just cause you don't see eye to eye doesn't mean zoro's down to watch you get hit on while he's in the same bar, either.

a/n: again. i've got no excuse. pls continue to send more requests feed my opla!zoro obsession u__u

it is perhaps what therapists and psychiatrists would call an incompatibility of character. or maybe something about you and him that simply acted like two jigsaw pieces from completely different puzzles. or maybe luffy had just jinxed it when he’d said the first time that he sensed some “tension amongst the crew”, but it’s no secret that you and zoro don’t exact see eye to eye.

in fact, sanji thinks, it might only be a matter of time before you each try to take the other’s eyes out permanently.

“you’re really not worried?” he asked luffy as they’d watched zoro and you bicker all the way down the wobbling boardwalk leading up to the baratie, you sniping at zoro for getting in your way and zoro biting back something equally acerbic and childish about you being too clumsy to be a good pirate.

“huh? why would i be worried? they get along just fine!” luffy had laughed, eyes bright and round as he’d readjusted his hat and bounded off towards the entrance, whooping about being hungry enough to take down an entire sea cow.

“wh —”

“bit rich, since you and zoro are always at each other’s throats, no?”

nami bumps sanji’s arm as she strolls by him with a stack of empty crates. sanji squawks, readjusting his own bags before jogging after her.

“c’mon, you know that’s different!”

nami smirks but doesn’t grace that with an answer, instead, she lets her eyes flicker back to where you and zoro are still snarking at each other even as the bewildered looking fishman at the front leads you all around back to the kitchen entrance.

“— wouldn’t have been in that situation if you’d just —”

“yeah? and if i’d just stayed put like you said, the entire going merry would’ve gone up in smoke cause last i checked, wood is very flammable!”

“the merry’s not that fragile.”

“you wanna bet?”

“yeah, maybe i do —”

“what’s goin’ on here? didn’t i tell you lot to get lost?” zeff’s gruff voice interrupts your bickering as the peg-legged chef looks from zoro to you and then the rest of the crew, “gotta new one, didya? don’t remember you from the last time these idiots were here.”

“she’s barely an upgrade from the clown head —”

you slam your heel into the toe of zoro’s boot and he hisses, nearly dropping his armful of crates.

“what he means is that i’m the brains of the operation —”

“we don’t need brains —”

“oh, so you’re admitting that you didn’t have any before i got here?”

zoro glares, dropping the crates as luffy pushes past you both to clap zeff on the shoulder and offer him a huge stack of berry.

“we came to pay you back for the meal last time! and to buy a new one! and… maybe some extra food stuff if you’ve got it.”

zeff opens his mouth to answer but it’s drowned out by the sound of your voice as you jab a finger into zoro’s chest.

“— just because you can’t hold more than one cohesive thought in your head at once doesn’t mean that —”

“— what’s that even supposed to mean? like you can think about two things at once?”

“enough! you two — outta the kitchen, now! i won’t have your lovesick teenage yappin’ distractin’ my line chefs!”

you both jump at zeff’s voice, and an unpleasant heat creeps into your cheeks as you realize that the entire kitchen had indeed gone very quiet, most of the white-clad workers staring at you and zoro.

“i need a drink,” zoro says, rolling his shoulders as he sidesteps you and pushes his way out of the kitchen.

“look, sir, i didn’t mean —” you take half a step forward but zeff jabs a finger at the doors still swinging in zoro’s wake.

“i said out!”

you glance between zeff and the rest of your crew for a split second before turning and scrambling from the kitchen, looking abashed.

“oh no, c’mon zeff, you didn’t need to yell at her like that —” sanji sighs as he tries to go after you, but nami nails him in the stomach with one of her arms.

“nope. this is something they need to work out on their own. and you’re on grocery shopping duty with me, remember?” she flashes him a smile even as he deflates slightly and turns back to the work of haggling rations out of the baratie’s storerooms.

you find zoro already posted up at the bar, even though the hour is still early enough that there’s only a few other patrons, mainly keeping to themselves. you fight the urge to march up to him and give him an earful about embarrassing you in front of sanji’s old master like that but zeff’s words about making a scene keeps your lips clamped shut.

instead, you seat yourself as far from zoro as humanly possible and wait for the bartender to sidle over. he flashes you a winning smile, making no attempt to conceal the way his eyes drag from your hair to your face and then down to your cleavage, where his gaze rests for a beat too long before he clears his throat.

“what can i get you, gorgeous? something sweet and bubbly, perhaps? or maybe something a bit more dark and… seductive? i can have a custom drink whipped up for you in a few if you’d like… on the house, of course.”

he shoots you a wink that has your eyebrows hiking up your forehead.

“laying it on thick, are we?”

the bartender shrugs, seemingly unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm.

“place like this doesn’t exactly breed subtlety.”

you make a noncommittal noise before sighing, “i’ll have a dirty martini, shaken not stirred, straight, with a twist, please.”

to his credit, the bartender doesn’t miss a single beat, “ah, a woman of taste, though i’ll admit that i prefer my martini’s naked instead of shaken, hm?”

he waggles his eyebrows and if it weren’t for the loud cough from down the bar drawing the bartender’s attention, you would’ve rolled your eyes.

at the opposite end of the bar, zoro taps his empty drink glass against the waxy hardwood, a vein ticking in his jaw. he’d listened to the entire exchange with a growing annoyance festering in the depths of his stomach. and here he was, hoping for a moment of quiet without the sound of your voice yammering in his ear. he shoots the bartender a glowering look as the man refills his drink and tries to make his way back down the bar to you.

zoro tosses the entire drink back in one and sets the empty glass down with a loud clack, clearing his throat as the bartender turns to stare at him. he holds the man’s gaze for a full three seconds before looking pointedly down at his glass and the bartender’s face visibly reddens.

“here you are, sir — the last three are on the house.”

the bartender lines up five identical drinks in front of zoro before marching away and zoro has to give it to the guy. he does make a good, stiff drink.

still, as he tries his hardest not to glance down towards where you’re sitting, sipping slowly at your martini, he can’t help overhearing the stilted stabs at conversation floating down the length of the empty bar. the bartender lavishes you with questions, asking about your travels, who you came with, where you’re from. you, for your part, never give him an answer more than three words long — travels were good, my crew, an autumn island.

zoro briefly wonders why you don’t tell the guy off like you so often did him. then, he briefly wonders if the fact that you’re always so easily set off by him means something. then, he not-so-briefly wonders why, if he’s always been so bothered by you, that he’s still thinking about you in the precious few hours he has to himself.

he clicks his tongue and downs another drink just as you finish your first.

“c’mon darlin’ — just a hint — what about the first letter? shall i try to guess?”

you sigh into your now empty glass as the bartender asks your name for the third time in a row, though to no avail. suddenly, a warm, solid presence appears next to you and the next thing you know, zoro’s arm is brushing up against yours as he leans over the bar to bear down at the bartender.

“right, now if you’re done trying t’pick up my girl, i think i’d like the check.”

the bartender blinks up at zoro, uncomprehending for a second before a blotchy redness seeps into his cheeks.

“y-your — you haven’t said a word to each other since either of you got here!”

you swallow passed a bewildered laugh as you glance up at zoro to find a challenge clear in his eyes. you slowly swivel back to the bartender with a light smile.

“ever heard of a lover’s quarrel?”

the bartender sputters as he stares between the pair of you for another long second before scurrying off to fetch the check. zoro chuckles under his breath, his earrings clinking softly in the dim light.

“damn — i really wanted another drink,” you say, staring at your empty glass.

wordlessly, zoro plops one of his in front of you. it’s the second to last.

you bring it up to your nose for a sniff before making a face.

“god that smells awful!”

“fine then, more for me.”

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t drink it!”

you bring the glass to your lips for a small sip. it’s tastier than you’d imagined but it still burns a line down your throat as you shiver.

“h-holy shit —” you cough, wiping at your mouth, “how many of these have you had?”

zoro shrugs, sipping on his own glass with a careless ease, “dunno. don’t really keep count.”

“ugh… this could knock out a war elephant…” you make another face before you take a second sip.

“figures you can’t hold your liquor, drinkin’ whatever girly shit you ordered.”

you round on him, “martinis are not girly!”

“tch. whatever.”

you settle into a huffy silence. zoro’s arm is still pressed against yours and neither of you makes to pull away. for a while, the only sounds in the bar are the soft clink of ice on glass and the light, liquid splashing of the ocean waves.

“why didn’t you tell him off?” zoro’s voice is quiet and when you turn to look at him, it’s to find him staring. you hold his gaze steady and don’t look away.

“why should i? he’s no one to me.”

“you don’t seem to have a problem yellin’ at me.”

you shrug, your eyes flickering back to the too-strong drink in your hand.

“i don’t tend to waste my breath on people i don’t really care about,” you say, your voice soft and careful and honest. zoro sucks in a slow breath, his mildly alcohol addled brain trying to process what you’d just said but his thoughts are interrupted by a peel of loud, raucous laughter echoing in from the dining room beyond.

“c’mon, sounds like dinner is served,” you say, grinning as you push off the bar, jerking your head towards the dining room door.

zoro lets out the breath before downing the rest of his drink and leaving the empty glass on the bar to follow you.

at dinner, you bicker less than usual and zoro is even more quiet than he normally is. though he wastes no time ordering another round for the table. no one really comments till zeff comes round at the end with the check.

“dinner’s already paid for but i was told that this is for the ‘lovebirds from the bar’,” he says, as he drops the drinks bill in front of zoro with a deadpan sort of look.

for a full ten seconds, no one moves. and then, usopp’s jaws hit the floor as sanji’s eyebrows jerk towards the ceiling. nami sits back with a satisfied smirk as luffy nods happily at the two of you before turning to grin at sanji.

“see? told you they get along fine!”

sanji has the decency to sputter just as usopp leans forward to point between you and zoro.

“wait… whaattt?”

you make to tug out your wallet but zoro slaps a stack of berry on top of the bill.

“give our compliments to the bartender,” he says with a slight smirk as zeff takes the money, glancing up at the two of you.

“yeah? what’d he make that’s got you so impressed?”

you purse your lips as you make a show of shrugging, waving a nonchalant hand through the air.

“oh, just a mean dirty martini.”

zeff lets out a loud bark of laughter as he takes the berry and clomps back towards the kitchens, shaking his head. zoro chuckles beside you as he stretches an arm over his head and lets it settle casually on the booth back behind you.

later, as everyone is making their way back towards the going merry, nami catches up to you on the docks, looping an arm through yours and pinning you with a meaningful look just as sanji sidles up to zoro and bumps him with a shoulder.

“so…” nami says, grinning as she tugs you forward a few steps.

“so.” sanji clears his throat, casting zoro a sidelong glance.

“wanna tell me what that was about?” nami asks.

“care to elaborate on that back there?” sanji questions.

you and zoro both take a deep, long breath. zoro glances up to see the way you toss a lock of hair over your shoulder, your bright laughter carrying back on the breeze. you allow yourself a smile, and you don’t have to turn to feel zoro’s eyes on you as both of you turn to your respective companions and say —

“i’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

opla!zoro reqs are (as always) open!!

[hey-itsdollie]

Helloooo one thing first have you seen the art you do, I mean it makes me want to chefs kiss god you are incredible marry me and second could you make a story where his wife prepares dinner for them after a day of being very tired that it is their favorite or from their country of origin that they like and they get sentimental or spicy you can decide with Marc Snuffy, Lavinho, Loki, Chris Prince, Noel Noa, Ego Jinpachi, Barou, Yukimiya, Reo, Nagi, Kaiser, Chigiri and Shidou and Bunny Iglesias (I know it's a long list sorry my life) if you want you can remove my lover and take care, eat well, drink water and sleep well muac muac

Welcome Home

This is so cute! I got another request similar to this one so there will be multiple parts<3

‧₊˚ ┊ In which the bllk guys come home to the dinner their wife made<3

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » marc snuffy. loki. noel noa. lavinho.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ fluff, might be a little suggestive, female reader, established relationship, aged up!

Part 1 -u are here!-, Part 2

── .✦ Marc Snuffy

Snuffy let out a breath of relief once he made it to his front porch. Bag in hand as he unlocked the door and walked in. Immediately being hit with the familiar smell of home.

“Cuore mio?” He called softly, his eyes looking around mindlessly. His body became more sluggish due to being in the comfort of his home.

You peaked your head out from the kitchen and smiled. Walking over to him after folding your apron and placing it aside.

Snuffy was quick to embrace you, burying his face into your hair, taking in your smell as if he had been away for years and needed a refresher.

“Welcome home honey.” You greeted with a bright smile, your eyes softening at the sight of exhaustion on your husband’s face. “The team worked you over time huh?” You hummed as Snuffy sighed.

“Yeah- hey what’s that smell?” He took notice of the familiar smell once more. Realizing quickly it wasn’t just the normal smell of their home.

He watched your eyes brighten and take his hand in your own, dragging him to the dining room.

“Take a seat, I’ll be right back!”

Snuffy sat at the table, curiously watching you run into the kitchen. Not even a minute passed before you came back, a bowl in hand walking carefully to the table.

“Huh, what did you make?” He questioned looking up at you curiously. You smiled and placed the food on the table, his eyes widening at the nostalgic sight.

“Cuore mio you didn’t…” He muttered as you let out a giggle.

In front of Snuffy was a bowl of stuffat tal-fenek, a dish that was often served back in his childhood home.

You left once more before coming back with unopened wine and a basket of bread to complete the dinner display.

You sat down beside him as he took your hand in his. Raising your knuckles to his lips, keeping eye contact as he looked at you lovingly.

“I love you…” He whispered as your heart melted from his words. His lips grazed over your wedding ring, the same ring he slipped onto your finger only ten years ago.

── .✦ Julian Loki

“Ma chérie, I’m home.”

You turned just finishing with setting the dinner table hearing your husband’s words. Loki had followed the sound of your footsteps, walking into the room and noticing the dinner you had made.

“Ah Julian.” You breathed walking to him and looping your arms around his neck. Your husband’s exhausted eyes looked over the food, taking in the sight of a familiar dish from his home country.

“Boeuf Bourguignon?” he questioned–mainly to himself as you smiled, pulling back from the small embrace, keeping your arms around him. “Your favorite right?”

You thought it would be nice to make the dish considering the two of you hadn’t had it since your wedding night.

Loki turned his attention back to you and kissed you slowly yet lovingly. You melted into the kiss as he pulled you closer to him, your bodies melting together where you stood.

“It must’ve taken you all day… did you rest?” He questioned looking you over as his hand came to rest against your cheek.

Leaning into his touch you nodded, “Yes Julian, I rested. Let’s eat so you can rest as well.”

Listening to your words he brought you to the table, splitting apart to sit in separate seats. Comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you ate dinner. Loki kept his hand on your thigh, caressing your skin gently as he used his free hand to eat.

“This is delicious…” He complimented wiping his face with a napkin as his dish was empty. His wine glass only had around two or three sips left.

“I’m glad, there is plenty left if you want seconds.” You replied with a sweet smile, still eating your first bowl. “I’m good for now, thank you.”

── .✦ Noel Noa

Your husband walked through the door, duffel bag in hand as he slipped his shoes off silently. Soft hums danced through his ears as the smell of food was drawn in by his nose.

The white-haired man walked further into the shared home, his eyes catching sight of you preparing dinner with a warm smile.

He let out a soft sigh, the smell registering in his mind as his heart skipped realizing what dish you were currently making.

“Coq au Vin Blanc…” Noel murmured, wrapping his arms around you from behind. His lips left kisses in their wake around your neck. Being slightly ticklish you laughed and tilt your head to look at him slightly.

“Welcome home Noel.” You greet sweetly as he hummed and pulled you closer to him. Even though he wasn’t much of a people person, the fact he could come home after a tiring day to the sight of his wife cooking for him and waiting for him made most days worth it.

“You did all of this for me?” He whispered as you nodded, your breath hitching from his touch on your hips–the sound of his husky voice echoing in your mind.

“Of course, you’ve been working so hard as of late. I thought you needed a nice meal.”

Your response made the male groan, his grip tightening. He wasn’t sure he would be able to make it through dinner. He needed you so bad already.

You turned looking up at him with innocent, willing love that made it even harder for him to hold back.

“Let’s eat dinner quickly…”

You laughed and just went along with his words not entirely sure what the gleam in his eyes was coming from.

── .✦ Lavinho

“I’m home!”

You heard your husband’s exclaim making a smile grow on your features. Calling back that you were in the kitchen, Lavinho quickly made his way to you. His long arms slinking around your body as he hugged you tightly.

Rocking the two of you back and forth before he paused, noticing the meal you had made.

“Ah, no way!” He happily stated a smirk forming on his face. He lifted you into the air and spun you around.

“You’re the best.” He groaned as you laughed from his actions. Lavinho and you had quite an energetic relationship. Almost fast pace some would say considering you were childhood sweethearts and got married two years ago.

“So when did you learn how to make feijoada?” Lavinho questioned setting you down on the ground as you plated the food. “I’ve been taking some classes–there’s still so many dishes I haven’t learned yet.”

Lavinho loved you and your passion for cooking. The wedding was small and you made all the food for it. Even though he tried to have you rest and relax on your special day. But he knew the food probably wouldn’t have been as good if you weren’t the one making it.

After dinner Lavinho helped clean up the kitchen and then quickly picked you up and carried you to the bedroom.

You giggled knowing exactly what was about to happen. Your husband loved expressing his affection for you physically. And you knew that was exactly what he was about to do.

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[heartsforseo]

Straw hats with a member/ S/o who still sleeps with plushies.

A/n: so I’ve been gone for almost 2 months but shhh I got some motivation now😼😼. PLUS I got this inspo from reading something somewhere. SO TY FOR GIVING ME THE THINGY TO WRITE AGAIN. request=open requested: <yes> <no> wc:970 ft: the straw hats (excluding chopper) warning: ??

⭑Luffy honestly wouldn’t care. If he ever crashes into your room (girls' room) and sleeps on your bed, he’d even shove the stuff toys away.

⭑When he sees your pouting/sad face he’d be clueless and continue whining for you to hop on the bed with him.

⭑When you finally told him why you were mad, he just tilted his head and let out a LONG sigh

⭑Would use his gum-gum abilities and get all your stuffy back in the bed (while groaning. He does NOT want to share)

⭑Speaking of sharing, why coddle a plushie when you have Luffy? Would def get jealous and maybe even tear one of them.

⭑P.s. He did…

⭑Zoro, just like Luffy, couldn’t be bothered. He’d probably think of it as a design at first. I mean, a pirate sleeping with plushies??? That’s rare

⭑But as the creator said, everyone in the crew is a weird person. So, here you are—in your room. Shock and in awe.

⭑Believe it or not, Zoro was sleeping with one of your plushies (that looked like a reindeer…)

⭑He had always denied sleeping next/with them. (Only if you convinced him enough, he’d let out a groan but still follow)

⭑You’d have to tease him about it now. I mean, Zoro sleeping before you??? Shocking with that 3 hrs sleep schedule.

⭑And a certain chef might’ve heard what you’ve said and used it against a certain swordsman…

⭑Nami, would even tax the poor plushies:~((

⭑Jokes aside, she’ll think of it as cute and nice decorations. They’re cuddly, colorful, and good for distress.

⭑But sometimes there’s a limit. She couldn’t even sleep on her OWN bed cuz of how many you got.

⭑Would roll her eyes when she saw you pout and give you a 35% discount.

⭑To help you get “rid” (as she says) of plushies, she’ll take a mini tangerine and place it on her work desk.

⭑Now she talks to it after dinner, drawing the map of the world.

⭑Ussop I’d say would make a story about how he once traveled to a stuffed toy island.

⭑Everything there was colorful, soft, and cuddly! He’d even point at one of your plushies and say he met them on the island!

⭑Your plushie would just stare and stare and stare… Until Ussop had to let out a fake cough and do his other stuff.

⭑He’d ask for your permission to get one of your plushies for support. (You said yes ofc).

⭑Now, whenever he has to modify Nami’s weapon/ whenever he’s alone from the group—he’ll hold the small plushie tightly and hug it, waiting for ideas to pop up.

⭑Sanji the beigest of them all. I could see Sanji:

⭑1) getting jealous about it. You have a whole husband in front of you. And you’re picking the plushie to cuddle…THAN HIM?!

⭑Would give the plushie dirty stares (especially if it was given by someone not him/by his crew)

⭑When you’re doing something else, he’d wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your neck.

⭑He’d give the plushie a smirk and laugh a bit. (Nurse gising na po sya)

⭑OR

⭑2) Sanji would write that down in his “All about Y/n!” Notebook and put hearts all over it.

⭑He would give you plushies, and on every island you visit, he insists on getting you at least one stuffed animal.

⭑Would even sculpt one of his foods as your plushie.

⭑Plus he’d get all giddy iddy when he sees you coddling the plushie he bought. It’s really satisfying to see when the person you love appreciates what they give you.

⭑Robin would let out a smile and maybe even tease you (when she's feeling it)

⭑Might get jealous when you're spending more of your time with them. She's your crew member and s/o, you should focus on her!

⭑She once woke up with your back in front of her, and you were cuddling your plushie.

⭑Sad to say you couldn't find your stuffies for a week… :(

⭑But Robin was there for you!

⭑In the end, it was a win-win situation!

⭑FRANKY FOUND IT CUTE CUTE CUTE.

⭑While you were worrying about how he'll react (unknowingly to you, he already found out and named one of them cola jr.) Franky already made a small plushie (robot) that does the SUPEERRRRRRR with him.

⭑When he saw you sad that one of your plushies got teared up, he'd secretly take it and repatch it (w/h metal scraps)

⭑Would sweat when you confronted him about it, and even DENY IT.

⭑"Franky you're the only one I know that'd use metal scraps for repair…"

⭑"Oh."

⭑Brook is a cutie patootie.

⭑He already knows what you like, from the panties you wear to the plushies you like!

⭑Would make one of those and have some delightful little tea parties. If you're too occupied to join in, why not let your mini-version take part instead?

⭑Anyways, if you'd ever show him a soul king merch/plushie. HE'D FLY OVER THE MOONN.

⭑He didn't know they were selling those! Especially when the cane he has can be removed and shown as a knife.

⭑Our good boy Jinbe.

⭑While on his trip, he saw a lot of them. But of course wouldn't bother to buy one.

⭑I mean, you're on a business trip for sake. And a pirate should always be ready and need no time for aesthetics.

⭑Well, that's what he thought BEFORE he met you. When he saw your room he was SHOOK

⭑How did you have time for all of this? How were you gonna sleep? How will you keep them clean?

⭑Many thoughts were roaming in his head. But when he saw your adoring smile, he made up his mind and would do anything to make you happy.

⭑Even keeping your plushies clean.

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed it. nd sorry for the almost 2-month break.

[tender-rosiey]

to be honest, idk how you did it but you truly got me stoked over heian era husband! sukuna. i hate the man with most passion (bcs of what he did in the manga), but i couldn't help but giggling, crying, kicking my feet with butterflies in my stomach every time i read your husband!sukuna stories. your writings are *chef's kiss*, i read all of those more than twice already.

idk if you're currently open for request or not, but i want to ask, are you comfortable writing angst/hurt no comfort stuffs? bcs my mind keeps imagining what and how the husbands (gojo, geto, sukuna, nanami) react to their wife (y/n) got klled right in front of their eyes? perhaps bcs of their enemies or something, the enemies know you are their weakness (imagining sukuna, the king of curses, who's feared by most, or satoru who's known as the strongest — turns out have a weakness that he himself perhaps is not aware of is so mindblowing(?)) anyway, you don't have to write it if you're unable to, no worries and no pressure!!

"YOU— WHO I HAVE LOVED TILL LOVE BURNED"

— when you die in front of gojo, geto, nanami, and sukuna

a/n: hehe i am so glad that you like my heinaera!sukuna MWUAH 💕 we gotta ignore what he is doing in the manga 🧍‍♀️ also sorry in advance y’all, but I lowkey had a blast writing this; hope you like this anon <333

GOJO SATORU:

satoru stood outside the operations room, anxiously tapping his feet on the floor.

he clutches his hands tightly, and his eyes are trained on the door, fixated on your cursed energy that he can feel through the door.

you were going into labor, after long 9 months of waiting.

the two of you were going to finally meet your baby girl. the same girl that the two of you would talk to at night, whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

he knew that the pregnancy was hard on you, and that’s part of the reason why he is relieved that this day has come.

the moments are long agonizing, and what kills him on the inside are your screams of pain as you try to push out your daughter.

he wanted, so desperately, to be with you in the room, but the doctor decided against it; they thought that it would be better to free the room as they worried that there might be a risk in the labor.

that worried him, but he had no choice but to abide by what they said. finally, the sun smiles upon him, and he hears the cry of his daughter.

he stands up, grin overtaking his face, and eagerly awaiting being let in.

he waits.

and he waits, but nothing happens, and he stops the first nurse that goes out the room, “what is happening? is my wife okay?”

the nurse splutters and nods, before dashing to another room. he doesn’t believe her for one second, and so, he tries looking into the room through the windows on the door.

he can’t see anything, but he can still feel your cursed energy. that’s the only thing that calms him down.

but, he can’t find it in him to sit back on the chair. he leans on the wall beside the door, and his nails dig into his knuckles, almost making them bleed.

he doesn’t snap out of it, until the doctor walks out, lowering his mask, “mister gojo—”

he walks past the doctor and heads inside.

“y/n!” he calls out, but he is met with the sight of the nurses covering your figure with a white cloth. his eyes widen, and he grips the wrist of one of them, “what are you doing? she is not dead.”

the nurse’s brows furrow, and her expression turns into of one of pity. he snaps his head towards you then at her, “she is not dead. I can feel it.”

he can still feel your cursed energy, so they must be wrong.

he looks down at you and cups your face gently. he moves your face to his direction, and he whispers, “pretty girl, you did so well, but you gotta wake up now.”

your face is limp in his hand, and his eyes grow frantic, “y/n?” he urges, “please say anything, yell or scold me even.”

he rubs his thumb across your cheek as he chuckles nervously, “love, I can feel your cursed energy. the prank you’re playing is a bit too much, no?”

“mister gojo,” one of the nurses calls out, “I think it’s from her.”

he looks up, and he sees your daughter in the nurse’s arms. she is wailing loudly, and—the nurse is right—she is emitting your cursed energy or remnants of it, he realizes now.

“mister gojo, you need to have skin-to-skin contact with your daughter,” she speaks softly, gently handing the little girl to him.

he takes her, wordlessly, and he mindlessly opens his chest to hug his daughter to it.

the nurses exit the room, and satoru is left to stare at you.

he sits on the bed, one arm holding your daughter and the other hand holding your face. he speaks up lowly with a small and quivering smile, “wifey, come on, wake up. our daughter is here.”

said girl lets out a small huff, and satoru finds himself biting his lip as he lays his forehead on your own.

“come on, y/n,” he begs, “she even looks exactly like you,” he pulls you closer, “you cant do this to me—please, not you too.”

GETO SUGURU:

the businessman sighs, “I won’t pay more than what I offered. geto. my words are final.”

“and who are you to be making orders? geto asks, resting his elbows on the desk, “I could kill you with the flick of a finger, so either you give me the two million yen—I know you can provide—monthly, or you can say goodbye to this life and empire you built.”

the man taps his palm and sighs, “I assume that we won’t be reaching the outcome I want?”

geto tilts his head with a smile, “come on, you still have the power of choice.”

the man stares at geto for a second before speaking up, “your wife is a lovely woman,” he grins, “too bad she has to depart so early.”

at the moment, for the first time since that incident, geto feels his heart drop to his stomach.

he jolts up, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall, “what nonsense are you spouting?”

geto’s grip on the man’s throat quickly tightens.

the man is barely able to choke out his reply, “y—your dear sweetheart has been poisoned, since she went to your ‘usual’ café spot, and my men were there,” he grins manically, “better go and try to get your goodbyes, while you’re at it.”

your husband throws him on the floor and releases his most brutal curses to eat him. the man’s screams are ignored, as geto hurriedly runs to the café.

his heart beats violently against his chest. how did his curses not notice anything? how could he let you be in danger?

he slams the door open and yells out, “y/n?! y/n, do you hear me?!”

the café is empty, and the only person present there is you. the others having long fled.

you look so pained, letting out labored breaths and furrowing your eyebrows in discomfort. he kneels beside you and gathers you in his arms. he rises to his feet, but halts when you let out a pained shriek.

“I am sorry, honey, I know, just hold on,” he comforts. you shake your head and bury your face into his chest. he tightens his embrace on you and quickly starts running out.

“suguru, it hurts—moving hurts,” you cry, and it makes him kiss the top of your head firmly while nodding, trying to comfort both himself and you.

he thanks the heavens that he arrives at the estate, and he gently places you on the bed. he looks back at manami, “call all the healers and doctors, now!”

he looks down at you, and he grips your hand with it and presses it to his lips. he murmurs softly, “you will be okay; don’t worry,” he clutches your shirt.

he repeatedly apologizes and brings you fully into his arms. he watches your breathing slow down, and he feels your skin get colder. your expression starts to relax little by little.

it sends geto into a frenzy. he snaps, “where are the doctors?! why is no here yet?!”

manami runs inside and pants, “a-all the doctors have been k-killed.”

geto stops feeling the tips of his fingers, and he looks down at you. he starts breathing frantically, “then get anyone! anyone who knows about poison!” he cups your face and shakes you lightly, “y/n, please open your eyes.”

“suguru,” you say weakly, and he instantly lowers his head, so he can hear you better. you whisper softly, “I love you.”

he nods repeatedly, “and I love you too, so you have to stay awake, so we can say it again, yeah? come on, y/n.”

he moves your hair away from your face, his hands shaky as he falters, “can you say it again? one more time.”

your body stills in his arms, and he shudders, “just o-one more, y/n…” he closes his eyes, burying his face in your chest. your arms are limp, and he is left hugging your body.

everybody stays silent, and they watch geto not leave or loosen his hold on you.

he looks up slowly at manami and speaks lowly, “round up everyone that had an affiliation to that scum; those filthy monkeys will pay for what they have done.”

NANAMI KENTO:

nanami heaves a sigh of relief when he spots yuuji, “are you okay?”

the young boy nods frantically, and nanami looks around him then at yuuji again, “is y/n not with you? have you seen her? anywhere?”

yuuji shakes his head, regretfully, but nanami takes a deep breath, “it’s fine; let’s search for her together, okay?” he assures.

yuuji smiles and nods, determined, “yes!”

nanami barely manages a reassured nod of his own, his mind focused on finding you. in fact, he starts running, eyes quickly scanning each street and corner for any sight of you.

he clenches his jaw, remembering what you said before taking this mission.

“kento, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

he dismissed your worries and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. he hummed softly, “I know, but we have to do it. if things go bad, then we have gojo present anyway.”

gojo is not present. shibuya is slowly turning into a city full of blood and corpses, both non-sorcerers’ and sorcerers’. he regrets not listening to you, but what else could’ve been done?

all he can do right now is find you and make sure you’re okay. that is his first and most important priority.

“nanamin, I found her!” yuuji screams excitedly, pointing at you who was busy thwarting off the myriad of curses charging at you. at the sight of you, nanami’s body relaxes, and he lets out a small smile.

you punch a curse back to a building, so you can finally turn to your husband.

“kento!” you grin and start running towards him. you throw yourself into his arms, and he—as always—catches you. he pulls you close and takes in your presence, burying his face into your hair.

he lets out a small breath.

“I am so glad you’re okay,” he says, but then he feels a strange wetness on his hand. he pulls away slowly and looks down at it. his eyes widen in alarm.

it’s covered in blood.

he looks up at you and mutters, “y/n, are you hurt? where are you hurt?”

“I—I don’t know,” you look up at him, “I can’t feel anything, k—kento; I don’t want to die,” you plead, and he quickly tears off a part of his suit to cover your wound and trying to stop the bleeding.

yuuji quickly goes to try and find shoko.

he hugs you closer, applying pressure to the wound, while pressing gentle kisses to your hair, “you…you won’t; don’t worry.”

you grip his shirt weakly and look up at your husband. you manage a small smile, “have I told you how handsome you are?”

he chuckles weakly, trying to stabilize his voice, “mhm, but I would like to hear you say it again tomorrow; can you do that?”

you nod slowly, “yeah…”

he stays silent for a second and grips you a bit tighter, “do you promise?”

your breathing starts slowing, “promise,” your body relaxes against his, and you feel his hand go to hold your own. he massages your ring finger and raises your hand to his lips.

you close your eyes with a smile, “I love you, ken.”

“I love you more,” he replies instantly. you stay still, and nanami embraces you with the entirety of his body, burying your face into his chest.

he clenches his jaw and whispers, “so much more.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

the king of curses dodges another attack with a full-blown smirk on his face. he swiftly turns and slashes the person till they drop into pieces. his chest heaves with excitement.

that is until he catches the smell of your blood.

he turns behind him, and he is greeted by a sight that he would usually take the time to relish in: a myriad of dead bodies, some piled on top of each other, and blood splattered and spilled everywhere.

he ignores of all that as his feet take him to where he senses your cursed energy.

he sees you standing in the middle of the bodies, and your stance is weak. you’re clutching your side, trying to stop the bleeding. he slowly walks towards to you and teases, “what happened? the queen got hurt?”

you let out a small chuckle, “shut up; it’s a minor injury, nothing worth noting.”

that is until the skin over your chest starts bubbling, and your heart explodes. the blood splashes all over him, and your body drops lifelessly to the floor.

sukuna’s eyes lock with your own blank ones, and he can’t process all the feelings he has.

his chest starts heaving particularly quickly, and his jaw clenches. he bends to his knees—something he never thought he would do—and raises your head towards his, searching for a glimpse of your cursed energy.

his eyes bore into your own as he speaks your name roughly.

“stop playing games, y/n!” he barked, shaking your head in his hand, but you grace him with no response.

“haha! I took out your dear wife; what will you do about it now, you monster?!”

sukuna eyes’ snap to where the voice came from.

he then decides that he will put that man through torture that is not even close to the amount of fury in his chest. sukuna is silent, as he gently lays your head down and walks towards the man.

the sorcerer’s smile starts crumbling, and he quickly falls on his back while trying to move away from sukuna.

“s-stay back, or I will kill you!” he attempts to threaten, but sukuna’s expression is blank. blank being a permanent furrowing of his eyebrows and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

the moment the sorcerer turns his back, trying to flee, sukuna cuts his feet.

sukuna doesn’t give him the chance to scream and wordlessly stomps on his back. little by little, he presses harder on the man under him.

he continues until he hears the cracking of bones and coughs full of blood. sukuna watches as the man tries to claw at his feet, in attempt to escape.

“I will make you suffer ten times over for what you have done.”

and it goes down in history as the biggest carnage sukuna has ever committed.

it didn’t stop at that man.

it extended to all the villages surrounding the vicinity. every sorcerer met a crueller death than the one before him. the single women were eaten, and the married ones were slaughtered.

no man was to enjoy what he was stripped of, and he would let the world remember your name along his through the passage of time, and he would make the temple he erected in your name stand tall forever.

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do not copy or plagiarize or I will rat you out to my bestie

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[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi baby!! dont worry!! it was about reader getting so stressed and annoyed while building a gingerbread house that they throw it in the garbage because its going all wrong and carmy finds it hilarious lol then he builds one for her hehe<3 love u

Perfectionist.

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks - especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

pairing - carmen berzatto x female reader warnings - cursing word count - under 1k!! short and sweet author's note - just a little dose of carmy at christmas for you. thanks baby angel for sending this request in (twice!!) <3

masterlist. inbox.

"Fuck this."

Carmy hears your raised voice and immediately comes running, coming to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You good, baby?"

"No."

The frown on your face is amusing him to no end, fighting to keep his smile from breaking out. He doesn't want to minimise your feelings, but you're cutest when you're mad.

Carmy takes in the scene in front of him, surveying carefully. There's chunks of gingerbread scattered across the table, icing dripping from the tablecloth. Your kitchen looks like a candy store exploded - sweets in red, green and blue littered over every surface. You're caked in frosting, hair falling into your eyes as you take deep breaths to try to keep your anger at bay.

"I knew this wouldn't be easy, but fuck me, Carmy... I'm on the brink of a breakdown here."

He makes his way over, grinning like an idiot. It's not often he gets to help you with things - you're fiercely independent, determined to get stuff done all by yourself. He likes teaching you, getting to feel like he's easing your worries a little.

"You want my help?"

"I said I'd do it," you huff, on the verge of stamping your feet and pushing the table over.

"It won't kill you to ask for what you need, baby."

You roll your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It's difficult for you to admit defeat, but you might rip your hair out if your gingerbread collapses one more time.

"Can you help me, Carm?" you whisper.

"What was that, honey? Say it again?"

You sigh in exasperation, slumping back into your chair.

"Can you help me, Carmen? Please?"

He beams at you like the cat that got the cream, making his way over to sit next to you at the table.

"Lets start again, hmm?"

"Good idea."

You pick up the remnants of your gingerbread house and throw them so forcefully, the trash can almost tips over. Carmy laughs, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"I think we've finally found the one thing you're not good at, honey. It's a Christmas miracle."

You can't help but chuckle, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. He presses a kiss or four into your neck, nosing at the spot under your ear.

"Okay, Mr Michelin Star. Show me what you got."

You bake, first, Carmy explaining how to get the perfect texture you need for structural soundness. He even gets out a ruler, measuring the rolled out dough so the sides will be even.

He kisses you lazily while your gingerbread is in the oven. You're propped up on the counter as he stands between your legs, arms thrown around his shoulders. He tastes like cinnamon and spice, groaning when you lick the sugar straight from his tongue.

When it's cooled, you begin your assembly, sitting back while Carmy trims and remeasures. He draws out a template with a pencil and cuts accordingly, ensuring each piece has a straight edge. You watch in awe as he works, so careful, so attentive. You're fighting not to jump his bones at any given moment.

It's time to build, and Carmy has the perfect plan. He's made a thickened sugar syrup that acts as a glue, hardening when it dries and keeping everything together. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he concentrates, determined not to mess this up for you.

He steps back, then, to let you decorate. You clearly have a vision, your picturesque idea of what you wanted your original creation to look like. Carmy makes you multiple bags of icing in different colours, and melts down candies so you can make windows and doors. He opens packets of chocolates, and carves into them with a knife to make little trees for the yard.

Hours later, when you're both covered in powdered sugar and melted chocolate, you step back to admire your masterpiece.

"Holy shit, Carm."

"We did good, huh?"

"Is there like, a business in this? Can we do this for a living?"

He laughs, the sound vibrating through you from where his chest his pressed to your back. He's got you tightly in his arms, swaying gently to the soft music that plays from the radio.

"What were you saying about finding the one thing I wasn't good at, Berzatto? Hmm?"

He spins you, pressing his forehead into yours.

"I take it back. I take it all back, baby. You're good at everything."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

You lean up to kiss him, wiping some frosting off his cheek with your thumb.

"Thanks for not making me feel like an idiot."

"I would never. Life is a learning curve, baby, You taught me that."

"I love you," you whisper. "And just so you know, we're never eating that. It's going to have to be display only."

He laughs, full chested and whole hearted, moving his hands to cradle your face.

"I love you too, baker extraordinaire. We don't need to eat it, anyway. We've got all this candy to get through."

You reach behind him to pick up a chocolate, tossing it into your mouth.

"It isn't as sweet as you," you wink.

A blush rises up his cheeks as he rolls his eyes, pulling you in closer.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Carmen."

[xlpoww]

bad for business

hi!! this is my second attempt at writing since middle school- so excuse me for it being so short/bad lol!! i had started recently watching one piece with my boyfriend and then the live action came out and i fell even more head over heels in love with sanji this is a result of that

no warnings!

word count: 620

opla! sanji x f!reader

songfic-> bad for business by sabrina carpenter

CONTINUATION (but also not a part 2) jealousy, jealousy

life on the baratie wasn’t always easy, lovely nonetheless. you couldn’t imagine trading it for anything, even if it meant having to watch your flirtatious crush work his magic on every lady in the room.

good for his heart..

sanji vinsmoke is a flirt. no one talks sweeter than the young chef with dreams of the all blue.

“now what for the lovely mademoiselle?” 

his voice floats through the air with a charm none could replicate. you don't even have to turn your head to know the question was paired with a charming smile. he might have even winked at the girl. 

her flustered giggle fills the air as she blushes up at the blonde. ordering with a smile like she’s won the lottery, her blue eyes lock on him as he retreats to the kitchen for the wine requested. 

with a chuckle and and shake of your head, you continue clearing the table in front of you. the tall blonde man was quite the smooth talker, and did a wonderful job to keep the woman with deep pockets coming back. so who were you to complain that he was so sweet?

his heart was already spoken for.

…but very bad for business

you’re no stranger to the lustful stares of the restaurant guests, and have learned to mostly turn a blind eye to them. though, every once in a while a girl takes it a little too far with him.

as you walk by her table, tray full of food in hand, you can’t help but notice her heated stare. it wasn’t directed at you, but your best friend speaking to another round table of guests. slightly on guard, you continue on towards table 6, smiling sweetly at the brunette man who winks at you as you place the ribs down on the table in front of him. 

“I didn’t realize Baratie had started hiring models? how much do they pay a pretty thing like you huh?”

you feign bashfulness, looking off to the side with a giggle.

“not enough you make it seem”

of course you’re more than used to the gross things some of the guests would utter about you (to your face nonetheless); so you knew to brace yourself a bit. but the man doesn’t escalate any further, shaking his head with a laugh that hints to you the size of the tip you’ll be getting. you turn back to him, once again smiling and telling him to let you know if they needed anything else, tucking your tray under your arm and walking back towards the kitchen.

all of my friends think i've gone crazy-

“that blonde at table 8 seems to have her eye on you-” you jest, walking up to sanji with a waggle of your eyebrows. he scoffs at you, a smile forming as he winks 

“doesn’t every woman who walks into the restaurant?” he brushes past you, placing a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he goes. you find yourself turning your head to follow his movement, grabbing onto his hand and using it to pull him closer. he seems surprised when you tug him down to your level to whisper in his ear.

“i'm sure i could show you a better time than she could” a wink finished off your flirty statement. it’s a it of a struggle to hold in the satisfied giggle, and you walk back off to go take another table’s order.

sanji’s face is dusted with a pretty pink as he stares after you, not that you would have been able to notice. 

you would also fail to hear the teasing of some of the kitchen staff after you left,

“damn casanova, i’ve never seen you left so speechless”

“she’s gonna give you a run for your money lover boy!”

there was a way only you could make his heart race.

-but they don't know me like my babyyy

[taojjang]

ִ ࣪𖤐 riize spending halloween with you .ᐟ

pairing: bf!riize x fem!reader, genre: fluff + crack, warnings: spooky themes! haunted houses, fake blood, scary clowns, fake blades, a lil spooky might make u dookie pink text > reader blue text > riize

♡⸝⸝ spooky day with your silly bf

shotaro passing out candy!

since the day you and shotaro moved into your shared apartment, you always loved how festive your neighborhood was during halloween. everything was so festive with the spooky orange lights, the scary skeleton statues, the fake spiderwebs in the trees. that's why you'd never imagine spending halloween anywhere else but your home.

though you love halloween so dearly, it's clear who loves it more between the both of you. on october 1st, taro buys loads and loads of spooky decorations. he'd come home with huge bags cheering, "honey! look what i bought! do you want to help me put these up?" you could never turn down requests as adorable as his :( even if it's cold, you would be outside for hours hanging up fancy string lights and constructing little pumpkin lanterns to leave on the front lawn. you'd take a break and watch shotaro excitedly hanging cute ghosts from a tree, giggling and showing off his work. he was so serious about making your house extra festive </3

on halloween day, you and taro would sit on your front porch in matching costumes and pass out candy to the trick-or-treaters. you absolutely adore how cute taro is with kids, getting a little too generous with his grants because of how adorable they are. every time a kid would walk away, he'd turn to you and gush, “wasn't she so adorable?! ahh i can't take it!!” once the trick-or-treaters stop coming, the two of you head inside to cuddle and eat the leftover candy. “babies are so cute, don't you think? i can't wait to dress up our little one!” "you're the cutest thing, taro :("

eunseok baking spooky treats!

ever since eunseok made the cute gesture of cooking pumpkin-shaped dumplings for halloween one year, cooking has been a halloween tradition. maybe because of how delicious eunseok's pastries are, the two of you often ditch halloween parties to eat cream puffs instead >.< you'd truly leave anything behind just to enjoy a comforting meal cooked by your sweet boyfriend. once the month of october begins, you're already counting down the days until your cooking date with seok. of course, he's excited as well. but he can't help feeling a bit anxious. though you love baking with him, he tries to take the lead most times because of how clumsy you are.

this year, the two of you decided on a two-course meal; ghost-shaped dumplings and pumpkin cream puffs! the date began, the two of you looking for recipes and hunting for the ingredients in his cabinets. eunseok tried to lend you some of his trust while you cooked, but it didn't take long for your clumsiness to spike his anxiety. "darling, this looks like a bit too much flour. how much did you put?" "two cups!" "the recipe called for half." long story short, you were switched to observation duty!

you watched eunseok read the instructions and add all the ingredients to a bowl while clinging to his waist, peeking over his shoulder. here and there, he'll look back at you and allow you to mix the ingredients together (which he shouldn't have cus you ended up splashing flour all over your halloween pajamas </3). eunseok was working overtime steaming the dumplings and mixing the pastry dough, all while keeping a close eye on you so you wouldn't explode the house or something. once the pastries were in the oven, you went to the living room to pick a spooky show to watch while your chef boyfriend prepared dinner. "here darling, all done." your eyes lit up at the sight of the prettily plated food, eunseok placing it in front of you with a bunch of side dishes. "this looks good, love! thank you!" the two of you sat beside each other, indulging in the cute little dumplings. your eyes were glued on the show in front of you, but eunseok's eyes were scanning your face for signs of enjoyment. he relaxes into a soft smile when he sees your eyes light up with your cheeks stuffed with food. "how is it?" "so good! extra points cus you're cute ;3" all of his stress from looking after you melted away once he was rewarded with that sweet smile of yours.

sungchan carving pumpkins!

sungchan is probably as excited for halloween as a sugar-deficit toddler. chan has been so determined to prepare everything early for halloween, picking out costumes and little candies since the beginning of october. he’d been looking forward to wearing your matching fbi agent costumes to his friend’s costume party. but you fell ill the day before the party, not being able to completely enjoy your halloween :(

sungchan was worried sick about you, leaving everything behind to come take care of you. what you didn’t expect was him to open your bedroom door with two large pumpkins. “what the hell babe..? i thought you were buying medicine?” “oh, i forgot… but they had pumpkins on sale! buy one get one free!” you laughed at your smiling dork and mustered up the strength to go carve pumpkins in the living room, right in front of the display of spooky festivities outside of your window <3

“let’s make matching pumpkins! i can make spiderman and you can make uh… baby yoda!” “that doesn’t match but sure!” the two of you carved pumpkins together while watching peanuts, your favorite cartoon. though you felt like shit due to the lack of medication, you didn't have much time to focus on your discomfort due to your dramatic boyfriend's reaction to the gross feeling of the pumpkin guts. gosh, did you absolutely love that stupid face of his. though he was fooling around and trying to lift your spirits, sungchan remained hyperalert watching your every move, staying wary of your weak hands holding the carving knife. “let me do it for you, princess. you’re gonna get hurt.” sure enough, the both of you got hurt :) but at least the pumpkins were cute! sungchan put candles in the pumpkins and left the botched-looking jack o’lanterns by your front door. “all done! i should probably go buy your medicine now, huh…” “just come inside and cuddle me..!”

wonbin watching scary films!

you’ve been dying to go to a haunted house with wonbin for months now. but due to reasons unbeknown to you, he’s always turned you down. he comes up with a different excuse every time, like “it’s too expensive” or  “it’s too cold that day” but once he agreed to watch scary movies with you, you finally figured out why he didn’t want to go.

the two of you decided to watch paranormal movies, all about ghosts and hauntings. throughout the movie, you notice wonbin kept scooting closer and closer to you until his head was hiding behind your shoulder. “no way bbin, are you scared?” “no, i’m just cold.” but whenever ominous music played, his grip on your arm would tighten and he’d hold his breath, just barely peeking over your shoulder. once the movie grew silent, you smirked before letting out a low growl, scaring the jumpy cat. “ah don’t do that, baby!!” you laughed before pulling him down to cuddle against your chest, ruffling his hair and apologizing through giggles. during the climax, wonbin was tightly squeezing your waist and hiding with the blanket pressed tightly against his face. you sneakily pulled out your phone and recorded your boyfriend's cute demeanor, all tensed up on top of you with his big, shaky eyes hesitantly glued to the screen. once the jumpscare popped up, he dropped the ineffective nonchalant act and screamed, springing backward to hug you by the shoulders, hiding his head into your neck. you laughed and held him against your body, kissing his temple to calm him down. “ah, this must be why you didn't wanna go to the haunted house, hm?” “shut up!”

the movie ended at 11pm and you had to go back home. you put your jacket on and grabbed your keys, but wonbin stood in front of the door and stared at you with that pitiful sullen glint in his eyes. “can you sleep over tonight? i’m… gonna be cold again later.” you laughed and tossed your keys back onto the counter running to hug your frightened baby. you cupped his cheeks in your hands and planted hundreds of kisses all over his flustered cheeks. “i won't make fun of you if you're scared, baby. should we cuddle?” wonbin’s fear melted away and he nodded, holding your hand and running off to his room. the two of you cuddled while staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. “we shouldn't have watched that… did you know you could manifest hauntings by watching scary stuff?” “the ghosts can't kill you, baby. shush, just sleep.”

seunghan on a pokemon hunt!

as silly as it sounds, the two of you decided instead of passing out candy or going to costume parties, you would go on a pokémon hunt late at night. seunghan proposed a challenge of whoever could catch the most pokémon would pay for dinner that night. you and your competitive poké-fiend boyfriend put on your coziest jackets and ran outside.

you stayed on facetime with hani while running opposite ways to catch some pokémon. you were doing pretty good, catching a few ratatas and even a diglett. but after 10 minutes of hunting, you noticed seunghan was frantically looking around and commenting on his surroundings. "oh wow it's dark... i should try to stay around the other people here. there wouldn't be ghosts, right? ghosts aren't a thing, haha..." you couldn't hold back your laughter as you realized seunghan was more afraid of the ghosts catching him than having to pay for dinner. "what are you laughing at..?" "are you scared, love?" "of course not! i'm just in a weird environment!" you closed out of the pokémon go app and watched your boyfriend's flustered expression on the screen. "hold on, i'll come find you." "no! you're gonna scare off my pokémon!" "I'LL SAVE YOU, MY PRINCESS!"

long story short, you got to enjoy your fried chicken without a single penny being taken from you (winner winner chicken dinner!). as you ran over to seunghan, he whined, "i give up, it's too dark. can we go inside yet?" once he saw you running towards him, his eyes lit up and he ran to cling to your side. "come on, love, let's go hide from the ghosts." the two of you held hands and ran back home where seunghan ordered a fried chicken delivery. you and the sulky boy ate together while watching shin chan, you occasionally pausing to tease your silly boyfriend for being scared of ghosts. "do you mind taking out the trash after this? hopefully there aren't any ghosts out there~" "STOP ANGEL I'M SO SERIOUS RN"

sohee in a haunted corn maze!

the two of you were browsing the store for cool halloween costumes when you saw a flier for a haunted corn maze at the nearby farm. “we should do it!” sohee cheered, taking a picture of the flier. you tilted your head and asked, “are you sure? you won’t be scared?” sohee scoffs and shakes his head, “of course not! i’m sohee!” you scoff at the silly guy who's grinning and flexing his tiny muscles.

contrary to your initial belief, sohee wasn't afraid. you were. the two of you arrived at the farm and you couldn't help but feel uneasy. you keep subconsciously squeezing sohee's arm and pressing yourself against him. your heart was beginning to palpitate meanwhile sohee was laughing and gasping, "wow... the props seem to be good quality!" your clueless boyfriend was too busy admiring the fake knives on the hay barrels instead of the terrifying killer clown standing by the maze entrance. you enter the maze and you’re immediately hit with the eeriness of the space; the tall hedges, the dark path ahead, the fake blood on the ground, the scary backtrack. your stomach began to turn, yet sohee excitedly treaded forward. “let’s go! should we go left or right?” you hummed trying to brainstorm an answer but as you looked both ways, you spotted scary props in both directions. the terrified screams of the other people in the maze didn’t help your sense of impending doom. “maybe… left?”  sohee looked down at you and noticed the uncertainty in your voice. he found it cute how you were so concerned about him being afraid yet now you're stuck to his arm, seemingly about to cry. “are you sure? we can still leave if you'd like.” you shook your head and held onto his arm tighter. “no, let's go!” sohee chucked adoringly at your sudden courage and began following your lead.

your fear soon dissipated as the fun of the escape settled in. as you turned left, a bloodied clown emerged from the dense bushes. you immediately tugged sohee towards you, earning an amused laugh from him. but now that it was over, you weren’t as scared. the escape was now on. “i think we should go left.” “nonono there's a killer over there!” “are you scared?” “no let’s go” the two of you worked tirelessly (screaming almost every 4 minutes) and finally saw the glow of the exit lights. sohee’s eyes lit up as he saw the red sign, turning to you and taking your hand in his. “y/n, there it is! come on!” the two of you ran out of the maze with huge smiles. sohee turned to you with the widest gleam on his face, high-fiving your hands and intertwining his fingers with yours. “we did it!” the fear-induced adrenaline all melted away once your hands were in his. you fell into his hug, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting against him. sohee held you by the waist and nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “were you scared, pretty girl?” you shook your head and huffed, “not at all!” sohee laughed and left a small kiss on your cheek. “you did a good job getting us out of there! let’s do more things like this!”

anton in a haunted house! (oh dear...)

anton had been dreading this day for ages. your boyfriend had always been a scaredy cat, not being too good at hiding his fear especially when watching scary movies with you. “i really can’t do it love, i’m gonna DIE.” “you’re being dramatic, anton.” he’d been trying his best to convince you not to go, but he couldn’t stand the idea of you going alone. he couldn’t keep fighting your little pout and those pleading doe eyes :( so of course, you went!

you were skipping towards the spooky house while anton was pulling you back by the arm, taking baby steps. “ah, wait! i can’t do this!!” with enough consoling, anton finally followed you inside the house. but once the red lights flashed, he ran behind you and planted his hands under your jacket. you laughed hearing anton’s terrified whines so soon, only being in the house for 20 seconds. you rested your hands over his gripping your waist. “i’m gonna start walking, okay?” “no!” the two of you still haven’t made it three steps into the house without him sticking to you, hiding his head in the side of your neck. once you began progressing, you were shocked at how high quality the set was; fake dead bodies, blood splattered all over the walls, eerie smoke emanating from the doorways. everything you found fascinating was only driving anton even closer to you, hiding against you and holding you with a trembling grip. you wanted to immerse yourself in the horror of the scene, but you couldn’t feel any sense of fear with your dumb boyfriend whining against your neck. “baby, hiding won’t help.” “no, i’m not looking! hurry, i wanna get out!” you laughed and held onto his hands tighter, treading through the scary rooms. with every slight noise, anton would flinch against your shoulder, his grip on your shirt growing tighter. “ah, move faster love!” “i’m trying!”

the entire time, anton was pathetically shrieking with his head buried into your neck, not allowing himself to see any of the scary scenes. he was so focused on keeping his eyes shut that he didn't realize you'd successfully exited the house. "open your eyes." "no!" "baby trust me, open your eyes." toni hesitantly lifted his head only to be met with the sight of trees and soft moonlight. "oh... it's done." you laughed and turned to face him, cupping his face in your hands and lifting the corners of his lips into a smile. "you made it out alive! see? it wasn't bad!" "you don't know what i went through..." though he'd finally escaped like he'd been praying for, he was still sulking during the entire trip back home. you couldn't hold back your laughs, finding his pouty lips so adorable. "i'm sorry my love, i won't make you go to another one again. do you wanna cuddle?" "whatever, sure." you sighed at his sassy remark and turned him to face you, pressing your lips against his. that moody look on his face was soon replaced with his flustered, blushing cheeks and a content smile creeping onto his lips.

[cha-melodius]

23 23 23!!!!! (Hug prompt)

(This was a popular one! Also requested by @dot524 and @libbygrl, so I made it extra long. Just kidding, it got that long anyway, but we're pretending it's because of that. hug ficlet prompts; read all the hug ficlets)

23. The hug they pull you into when they’re about to kiss you.

This has been the shittiest birthday Alex can remember in a long time.

They’d been slammed all evening, like everyone in the surrounding area decided that they all had to visit the restaurant on the same day. Normally, Alex wouldn’t complain—he likes staying busy, and the buzz of a well-running kitchen is almost soothing to him. Tonight, though, the kitchen had been running far from well.

First, one of his line cooks was out sick and no one else could come in. Then, one of the new kids he’s been training accidentally upended an entire tub of prepped artichokes. Artichokes. Alex’s hands are still raw from the frantic all-hands-on-deck rush to get enough replacements cleaned. His normally extremely capable sous chef had just broken up with her girlfriend and was hanging on by a thread all night, occasionally disappearing to go cry in the walk-in. More than one sauce had been forgotten and burned on the stove. And of course there’d been your usual picky diners, people unable to be satisfied by anything, and while usually he’s pretty good at letting that stuff roll off his back, tonight Alex was seconds away from melting down and turning into one of those chefs he swore he’d never become.

He might have spent the last twenty minutes, after the last diners had finally gone and the rest of the kitchen staff have followed, collapsed in a booth with a bottle of Maker’s. He’s gonna go home, promise. He just needs to get up the energy to move.

Except—

There’s a clattering from the kitchen, and a soft, unexpectedly posh fuck audible in the dead silence of the restaurant. Alex levers himself out of the booth and pushes his way into the kitchen, following the sounds of movement to the pastry chef’s station, which is tucked away in an alcove. There, bent incongruously over a single dessert plate holding some kind of small cake, is his sommelier.

“Henry?”

Henry, who apparently did not hear Alex come in, jolts upright, his face going red like he’s been caught. Caught at what, Alex can’t begin to imagine.

“Oh, Alex,” he breathes. Then he glances down at the dessert in front of him, and his face falls. “Christ, this was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I mean, it definitely is,” Alex offers. As far as he knows, Henry doesn’t cook much. He’s got an exceptional palate, but is fairly hopeless in the kitchen, by his own accounts. And yet, no one else is here. Just Henry, and a cake. There’s a singular candle stuck into the top of it. It’s not hard to draw a conclusion, unlikely though it may seem. “Is that for me?”

“Well,” Henry says uncertainly. He sighs. “Yes, I suppose.”

Alex can’t help the smile playing on his lips as he slowly walks closer. “You suppose?”

“If it’s not any good, then it definitely wasn’t for you,” Henry hedges, but he’s smiling now too—a little, hesitant thing that makes Alex’s heart beat an erratic rhythm in his chest.

Alex stops next to the counter where the cake sits, which also happens to be right in front of Henry. He looks up into sparkling blue eyes under brows still knit together in the middle and wants to smooth out the wrinkle between them with his thumb.

Instead, he picks up the fork sitting next to the plate. “Can I try it?”

“Now hold on, the candle’s meant to be lit—” Henry tries, but Alex laughs at him and cuts a neat corner off the little square cake. It’s a rich, deep brown with a dark filling that oozes out between two layers, and when he sticks the fork in his mouth, a rich interplay of chocolate and the sweet-tart notes of port-soaked cherries bursts across his tongue.

Alex finishes his bite slowly, savoring both the flavors and the nervous fidgeting of the man standing so very close to him. He’s been more than half in love with Henry for a while now, but he could never be sure if his feelings were returned. They work so well together here. It seemed stupid to risk it.

Fuck that.

“Well?” Henry finally asks, unable to help himself, as Alex slowly sets the fork down on the plate. “You don’t have to spare my feelings if it was awful. June tried to help me with the cake recipe, but I fear I might be unteachable—oh.”

The words cut off because Alex has grabbed both of his wrists and is pulling him a step closer, even as he closes the remaining gap between them. He arranges Henry’s compliant arms around his waist, then loops his own over Henry’s shoulders, drawing him in until their bodies are pressed together and mere inches separate their faces.

“It’s incredible,” he murmurs. Yeah, the cake’s a little dry and his ganache isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t matter. Henry made it for him, for his birthday, and for that, it’s better than every Michelin-starred cake he’s ever eaten. “Thank you, H. It means a lot.”

“You deserve it,” Henry murmurs back. His eyes keep flitting down to Alex’s lips, and Alex’s smile grows.

“You know what I really want, though?”

“What?” Henry asks breathlessly as his arms tighten around Alex’s waist. The tips of their noses bump together.

“This,” Alex says, and kisses him.

Clearly, Henry’s been sampling as he constructed the dessert, because he tastes like chocolate and port-soaked cherries, and Alex can’t get enough. Henry kisses him like he’s been aching for it just as long as Alex has, holding onto him like he’s never going to let go, and frankly, Alex isn’t going anywhere.

Maybe this wasn’t such a shitty birthday, after all.

[myfictionaldreams]

Winter Soup // Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

Requested by: @senjoritanana​​ thank you so much, I hope you enjoy all the angst!

A/N: PSA I don't know the specifics of how poisons work and didn't want to risk it on my google history lmao so please ignore any inaccuracies. Please read the tags if you're affected by near death experiences, please proceed with caution and if I've missed any tags/warnings, please let me know!

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, hints of smut, angst (LOTS BUCKLE UP), fluff, polyamory relationship, poisoning, blood and injury, anxiety, crying, begging, near death expierences, reader is injured, pain, emotional hurt/comfort, hospitalization, protective Steve Bucky and Sam, everyone needs a hug tbh

Words: 7.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The warmer months were slowly starting to shift into winter and for some reason this year, the weather change was beginning to affect your health. You’d heard of the phrase ‘seasonal depression’ but you were convinced that it was due to the cooler weather that was making you feel this rubbish.

It had been happening for a week now, and some days you’d feel fine, normal in fact but then others your chest felt so tight as if an elephant was sitting on top of you, nausea, vertigo and heart palpations that would have you clutching your chest with fear you might explode. With each passing day, you would be praying for the summer months to return, especially as the snow and ice increased with intensity outside of your home.

You were fine for the most part, good days and bad; yes you might be getting worse with each passing day but you were adamant that the seasonal illness would pass. However, the frosty weather was also a minor blessing because it was your excuse to stay home and be a pretty housewife for Steve and Bucky. Being able to stay home made it easier to keep the illness to yourself as well, it was a busy time within the Rogers mafia and you didn’t need them wasting their time fretting over your wellness when they had a lot of other things to do. They had many international deals that were so close to being signed for and contracted that every waking hour was spent at the office, on phone calls, and emails, trying to talk to locals across the world to attend meetings on their behalf so the boys were thoroughly busy.

There were a few occasions you’d attended with them to the office if you were feeling particularly needy or lonely but it unnerved you to drive on the snow and ice so when you suggested that you might stay at home, Steve and Bucky offered no complaints.

At home at least you were able to mop about, trying to perk yourself up with movies, pyjamas and your favourite bowl of warm soup. Over the last few months, you’d been trying to improve your cooking skills, especially to impress Steve who usually cooked for three of you. This became more interesting as the colder months drew in over Brooklyn as this meant you could cook more homely, hearty foods such as soups and stews, especially as you had recipe suggestions from the newly hired grounds guard Rafael.

He’d been recommended by a friend of a friend for Steve to hire which was perfect timing because the last grounds guard had retired. There were a few occasions when he was the guard to bring the post to the front door from the front gate and you soon found he was enthusiastic and easy to talk to, even though he was a little bit older, which was how you found out he had previously been a chef and offered to give you recipe ideas. As winter drew in, Rafael began turning up when he knew you were by yourself to deliver some of his momma’s family recipe soups, hoping that the meal would perk you up which it did, they tasted so delicious that you were secretly hoping he would keep bringing them to you, especially as you continued to feel unwell.

“What is it today?”, you asked voice full of hope and trying to sound as upbeat as possible. Even though you were desperately holding onto the door handle as your head was spinning and scared you’d fall over.

“Potato and leek soup and they’re all grown in my back yard so hopefully you’ll love it even more than usual”, Rafael smiled as he handed over the container, his smile broad and causing the aged creases at the corner of his eyes to deepen.

Gleefully you accepted the soup, opening the lid slightly to smell the delicious meal, your stomach grumbling with hunger. Your appetite had reduced significantly over the last few days due to always feeling nauseous however it seemed the only thing that you could stomach was his delicious meals and therefore his arrival was always welcomed.

“Thank you so much! Please will you let me pay you this time? You’re being way too kind to me, always giving me free meals, you’re going above and beyond a usual guard”, you pleaded whilst also having to return holding onto the door handle as it felt like the ground was moving with your dizziness.

Rafael held up his hands and shook his head, taking a step back, “Absolutely not! Just wanted to give you something to make you feel better and make the fairies go away”.

The guard halted, a look of embarrassment passing out his features as he realised what he just said, especially as you asked, “Fairies?”

He awkwardly looked down at his shoes, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to explain, “Yeah it’s just something my momma use to say. If we were feeling unwell, it’s because the fairies had crept into our stomachs and were being naughty and making us ill and now I’ve said it out loud to another person I’ve realised how insane that sounds so I’m going to stop talking”.

You squeezed your lips together to try and contain your laughter but that lasted a moment before you were both laughing which only turned into you losing your balance against the door and swaying to keep yourself upright. The laughter died in Rafael’s eyes as he reached out to you, “Woah, you ok, Ma’am?”

Quickly brushing him off, you took a step back into your home, trying to ask nonchalantly about the situation, “Yeah sorry, probably just the fairies pushing me over”. Your joke didn’t seem to comfort him in any way as he continued to look uneased by your appearance.

Thankfully Rafael didn’t push the situation any further, seeing that you wanted to escape back into the comfort of your home, he took his step back with a simple smile. “Get back inside before you catch another cold from this snow. Eat the soup whilst it’s still warm and I’ll be back tomorrow to hear the verdict on the taste.”

“Thank you Rafael! Enjoy the rest of your day!”. You waved him off and rushed to slam the door, sliding down to the floor against the wood, losing all energy that you’d built that morning just for that one conversation. Ok yes, you were feeling sorry for yourself as you tried to catch your breath, heart pounding violently in your chest that it also echoed in your ears and your vision was still seeing double of everything.

However your stomach continued to gurgle with hunger so without wasting any more energy, you opened the lid and ate the entire contents then and there. Releasing a satisfied sigh at the delicious meal, you took another couple of minutes to gather your senses before dragging yourself over to the living room, collapsing onto your back on the couch and letting sleep take you into a dreamless realm.

A violent shake of your shoulders by a hard grip on your shoulder was what startled you awake as Sam’s voice then surrounded you as he shouted, “Hey! Wake up!”.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever been close to hating you Sam Wilson”, you croaked before coughs shattered your chest, rocking your body as you tried to sit up and suck in any air between the painful coughs. Finally, you calmed down enough to collapse back against the decorative cushions of the couch and open your eyes to look at the three Sam’s that hovered over you. After a couple more blinks, they merged into one, very distressed-looking bodyguard, eyebrows knitted together and jaw muscle clenched harshly.

Sam reached towards your face, pressing against your cheek in concern, “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”

“What? I’m not ill, I’m just tired, can’t a girl nap around here?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow, trying to look as relaxed as possible. 

The man didn’t look convinced as he sat on the edge of the couch next to you. Releasing a heavy sigh which only twinged something in your chest that made you want to cough but you refrained from doing so as you emphasised, “Sam seriously, I’m fine”.

Sam gave you another serious glance, eyes hardening as he explained, “You didn’t sound fine, you were wheezing so hard in your sleep I thought you were going to stop breathing”.

There was no denying the panic that filled your heart and would explain the tightened feeling in your chest but you tried to not let the fear show on your face as you rolled your eyes, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“I appreciate your concern Sam, but I feel ok, I’m just tired, I was probably just sleeping in a weird position and look, no wheeze now!” Taking a deep breath to show there was no more noise coming from your chest, however, it didn’t seem to comfort him in any way.

“Yeah well you’re still looking peaky and why are you so tired all the time recently, you’re never usually like this”.

“It’s probably just the cold weather or something. If I start to feel unwell, you know I’d tell you. I’m a big baby when I’m ill, you’ll be the first to know”. Sam looked to be contemplating believing you and all you were silently begging for was that he didn’t call Steve and Bucky, they just didn’t need this stress right now. Even though it was in his contract to call them at any sign of injury or illness but as Sam looked at you, other than looking tired, you seemed to be fine and still joking with him. Finally, he gave you a simple nod and you couldn't hold back the thankful sigh. “Do you mind if I go back to sleep for a little while longer or do you need me for anything?”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot recently”, he stated his earlier point again.

“What, so I’m not allowed to nap now?” you teased him with a subtle smile, hoping to crack his worried exterior. It only half worked as he shook his head to himself, standing up and pulling the fluffy blanket that had been left behind you on the couch and throwing it over your body. Before you could even thank him though, sleep had stolen you back into its resting state. 

Sleeping for a few more hours, Sam was nowhere to be seen but he usually liked to check the perimeter ever so often and speak to the other guards so you weren’t worried about his whereabouts. As you shuffled to the kitchen, you couldn’t tell if you felt any worse or better after all the sleeping, haven’t wasted another day feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to snap out of it by glancing through the refrigerator and cupboards and deciding to ssurpriseSteve and Bucky with a romantic meal.

The house was soon filled with delicious scents of sweet and savoury as you’d baked and were in the process of cooking their dinner. You were in your own little world and had only stumbled a handful of times with dizziness and the headache that was building was currently mild in comparison to others you had, it was fine you determined to yourself

Still lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even heard the front door open as you were suddenly enveloped by a muscular chest and arms, a smile aching your cheeks as you nuzzled back into Steve’s body. His lips danced over your cheek and down your neck as he held you close, the roughness of his beard comforting. “I didn’t hear you come in”, you commented, turning your head slightly to chase after his lips, sighing deeply in your chest as he held you tighter for a second, hands dipping beneath your shirt at your waist so that he could feel the warmth of your skin.

“I did shout”, he revealed whilst moving back to neck, not to kiss but just to smell you in, his body almost melting into the floor as he felt at home with the familiar scents. “I’ve missed you”, he whispered against your skin.

Goosebumps instantly flooded over your body as you shivered, turning in his arms to hug him properly, your fingers scratching through his hair that was beginning to curl at the ends where he’d allowed it to grow out over the winter months. “I’ve missed you too”, you whispered against his lips, lazily kissing and breathing each other in.

“Come with us tomorrow, I want you to be near me”, he admits with words that were making you cling to him harder.

You wanted to say yes and the word was on the tip of your tongue but then your thoughts drifted to the soup coming. “I’ve got a delivery coming that I can’t miss, I’m sorry”.

“The guards can get the delivery”, he counters.

“It’s fresh soup I want it whilst it’s hot”, an embarrassed smile finds its way to your lips as he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he just enjoyed the moment of the two of you being together.

“Soup? But we could order that to the office if you wanted it, you know that’s no issue”. 

You pout dramatically, hanging off his neck as you whisper with a childish tone, “But it won’t be the soup that I’ve ordered and want”.

Steve rolls his eyes but you know he's being playful, he could never find a reason to be upset with you. Rolling back his shoulders, he stands back to his full height, opening his eyes to cup your cheek with his massive hand but this was when he took you in and a frown dawned on his face just like it had on Sam’s. “Are you feeling ok?” The hand on your cheek moved towards your forehead, expecting to feel a temperature but it felt normal.

“I feel great”, you say with as much cheer in your tone as possible, still holding onto his neck but mostly because another wave of dizziness had rushed through you and you needed some support to stay standing.

Steve didn’t seem convinced, “You just … look a little off”.

You playfully rolled your eyes, similar to how he had just done, “Wow thanks Steve”.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that”.

“I know, I’m joking, I’m fine - really, it's nothing to worry about”. He eyes you and doesn’t fall for your grin so you tried your next trick up your sleeve. Leaning on your tip toes whilst pulling his face closer, you whispered against his lips, “I love you, Stevie”.

The tension momentarily eased from his shoulders as his grip around you tightened, “I love you too”.

“Sorry to interrupt your love fest but I want my own loving”, Bucky broadly announced from the entrance of the kitchen where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes however as you pulled back from Steve and he could finally see your face, the happiness seeped from his face. “Woah, what happened? Are you ok?”

You gave a frustrated huff, finally releasing Steve’s neck as you pointed in the direction of the decorated table. “Right, both of you go and sit down before I decide you don’t deserve any food for being mean”.

Steve shuffled away first as you continued to cook the food, Bucky looking ashamed as he came over and kissed your cheek but before he could pull away, you quickly captured his lips in a kiss to show you’d been playing before and weren’t upset.

“Why are there only two plates on the table?”  Steve questioned as he took a seat.

Without looking over your shoulder at him, you casually answered, “I’ve already had mine, I wasn’t sure when you were both going to be home and I didn’t want to wait”. They both seemed to accept your lie and you happily sat with them as they ate, asking about how the deals were going. They both seemed to be agreed that they were sure to have contracts signed tomorrow and had even been able to pay off some of the international police so that shipping of the goods could occur. In truth, after the soup, you were not feeling at all remotely hungry and even the smell of the cooked food had turned your stomach over.

A couple of hours later, the three of you were preparing for bed. Steve is in the middle and you are to his right and Bucky is to his left. You and the mafia boss had been kissing deeply for a couple of minutes, his hands beneath your shirt, brushing against your breasts, rough fingertips peaking your nipples as you ground down on his thigh. You were soaked and he could feel the evidence of it as you weren’t wearing any underwear but the longer the touches and kisses went on for, the more you were feeling unwell.

As his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and he began to trail open-mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your throat, you noticed Bucky was doing the same thing but to Steve’s neck from behind. However, there were two Bucky’s instead of one as your vision swayed and it felt as if you were on a water bed with how unsteady you felt. The headache was close to a full-blown migraine as well now which only continued to make you feel nauseous so even though there was nothing more you wanted than to continue where this intimacy was leading but, for once, you had to stop it.

“Wait, just- just one moment”, you pushed against Steve's shoulders at the same time. The blonde's hold on you loosened as he moved his face back to look into your eyes but you’d closed them, trying to hide your face from him and Bucky who had also sat up further to check on you. “I just- sorry I’m tired and I… I’m not sure- sorry.. I don’t think-”.

Steve’s fingers tipped your chin up to look at him as he smiled softly down at you, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. If you’re tired then I’ll just hold you close, ok? Please don’t apologise for not wanting any of this”.

You relaxed in his arms, feeling grateful for him but also bad that you could feel how aroused he was against your stomach. “Thank you. I’m just feeling so tired today. Please don’t let me stop you both, continue without me, I just want to go to sleep”.

“You don’t have to give us reasons why you don’t want to do it, baby, we’ll do whatever you want to do. Me and Buck don’t have to fuck if you want to be held, I don’t want you thinking we’re neglecting you”.

Affection and love warmed your heart as you kissed Steve’s lips and then reached over his shoulder to kiss Bucky. “I love you both but seriously please continue, I like watching you both anyway so that’ll satisfy me enough if I’m not asleep by that point anyway”.

They both gave their love back to you with praises and pecks to your face before rolling away from you and beginning their exploration of each other's bodies. You watched with a smile on your face for a couple of moments and your core ached with need but as a burst of pain pounded through your temple, your eyes shut automatically to help ease the pain and from there, they never opened again as sleep took you soon after.

The next morning, your migraine had gone but your entire body felt weak and drained of any energy. Steve and Bucky took one look at you and determined that they’d be working from home, wishing to remain near you but they still needed the comfort of their home office upstairs whereas you remained downstairs, pretending to watch TV.

Somehow, you had continued to hide your seasonal illness, they just thought you still looked peaky. Today was the worst you’d felt so far, even having to use the wall as support whilst walking around the home, silently coughing into cushions so that the boys wouldn’t hear upstairs and this only increased the sharp pain shooting through your chest.

At lunchtime, Sam came over to visit and found you at the table in the kitchen, head lying against the table top as you dipped in and out of sleep. You were too tired to even pretend to joke and thankfully for once he didn’t pester you with being unwell, especially knowing Steve and Bucky were home, he assumed they had seen how bad you were so he just sat next to you at the table, easing his hand under your head so you had some comfort against the hard surface.

Soon after, Rafael knocked on the front door with your soup delivery. Usually h,e would stay at the door, never coming into your home but Sam insisted that he come out of the cold and deliver the soup to you in person.

“Yay!” you croaked, reaching out for the warm container, seeing the soup within and seeing that it was a deep red colour today, possibly tomato.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Rafael”, Sam noted, taking his seat next to yours once more as the new guard stayed standing at the head of the table. Other than Natasha, Sam was the lead of the security and guards and technically Rafael’s boss.

“Oh yeah, he used to be a chef”, you explained to Sam, whilst opening the lid of the container, smelling the delicious food and confirming your theory that it was tomato soup.

“Chef? I didn’t know you worked as a chef”, Sam remarked with a frown, eyeing Rafael with confusion as he’d been the one to complete the job interview and didn’t remember seeing chef on his CV.

Rafael casually shrugged his shoulders, looking somewhat tense at the questioning but still forced a smile to his face to please his boss. “I didn’t think it was relevant to the job, to be honest”.

“We’ll have to get you on the bbq when the weather perks up, maybe that’ll stop the arguments between Steve and Bucky”, Sam mused over the thought.

You tried to chuckle but the exhaustion had you slumping against the table as you mumbled, “I feel like shit”.

Sam tensed next to you, “Maybe we should call a doctor. You know, I’m surprised Steve and Bucky aren’t down here right now looking after you, do they even know how bad you’re feeling today?”

“Wait, they’re both here?” Rafael asked Sam but he ignored him, his focus solely on you.

Once again you’re too tired to think of an answer and shrug your shoulders, turning your head to look up at Rafael, “I think the fairies like me too much”.

“Fairies?”, Sam questions thinking that you’d become delirious.

You smile genuinely to Sam, reaching to tap his shoulder, “Inside joke Sam, keep up”.

There was no further discussion of fairies as more hacking coughs ripped through you. It took a couple of moments and Sam rushed to get you a glass of water before you slumped back against the table in exhaustion.

“Why don’t you have the soup and then see how you’re feeling later? Maybe the rest is all you need”, Rafael suggested, filling the silence with his voice.

You couldn’t see it but Sam gave his employee a scathing look, “Rest is all she’s been doing. I’m calling the doc and then I’m going upstairs to tell Steve and Bucky”.

“Aren’t they busy?” Rafael continued to question Sam. “I’ve heard they’ve got that deal coming up from Italy and France, they might appreciate it if you wait a little bit before calling Doctors”.

Sam’s voice was quiet and stern but you were too tired to notice. “That’s not common knowledge, how do you know that?”.

Massaging your temples with the pounding thuds that hadn’t stopped since your coughing fit, you decided that Rafael was right, usually sleep made you feel better. Reaching for the soup one more, you opened the container as you addressed your bodyguard, “he’s right Sam. I just need today for all the work stuff to be over and then I’ll call the doctor. The boys don’t need any distractions, especially today, one more day isn’t going to kill me”.

Sam didn’t look happy as you began to idly sip on the thick, delicious soup. As you thanked Rafael for the meal, Sam finally looked back to him, his frown deep and unmoving as he asked, “Don’t you have work to do?”

Rafael’s spine straightened, “Oh yeah, right. Sorry, sir” and with that, he left to return to work.

“You don’t have to be so bossy you know, he’s just trying to help”, you tried to reason with Sam.

However, your friend ignored you and moved to hold your hand to pull your attention away from the meal and towards him. “I’m giving you until the evening, wait no- if you get any worse before the evening, I am calling the Doc, no arguments, understand?”

“Yes sir”, you say with a little salute.

Finishing your soup, your boyfriends finally came downstairs and you attempted to straighten your posture and plaster a fake smile on your face. Bucky paused in the entryway, sniffing the air and asking, “What’s that smell, I know it's from somewhere but can’t put my finger on it”.

“Is it my soup?” you say, trying to stand up and act like the floor was spinning beneath you.

“No, it’s not that”, he pondered, still looking around and trying to smell whatever he recognised but couldn’t pick it up again. Steve and Bucky both walked past you, kissing the back of your head as you casually explained that you were going to lie down for a little bit. “Wait, let me come with you-”, Bucky started but you held out your hand to stop him.

“You’ve got a busy time at work and I’ve got Sammy boy here anyway so you two continue with your work and we’ll have a nice evening in, Ok?”

“Yes Ma’am”, he mutters before continuing to make his lunch. It wasn’t often that he listened to your instructions but both men were so busy and overwhelmed with work and the consequences that could come from it all that they were all over the place.

The next hour passed by slowly and you didn’t manage to sleep even for a moment because your symptoms were making you feel so awful. You were wheezing so bad that each breath felt like you were suffocating, your eyes began to roll with how much the room was spinning and a violent tremble rocked through your entire body, you didn’t feel right, something was wrong and it was beginning to scare you.

“Sam?” your voice was nothing more than a rasping whisper but he still was able to hear you from where he had been on the phone with the doctor from across the room, having noticed your deterioration in health. He was kneeling by your side in a couple of broad steps, the phone balancing between his cheek and shoulder as he rested a hand on your temple, feeling your spiked temperature. “I don’t feel good”, you admitted, voice full of terror before more coughs ruptured through your chest, leaving you struggling to breathe.

“Steve! Bucky get down here right now!”

“No… no, I just need to sleep”, the fear had disappeared from your voice as you wished for the exhaustion to take you completely, hoping that in sleep you wouldn't feel the pain destroying your insides.

“Hey! No!  Don’t go t sleep, need you to stay awake for me, Doctor Banner is on his way but you can’t go to sleep”, Sam urgently tapped your face, rousing you from the sleep as Bucky had all but jumped down the entire flight of stairs at the shouting.

“What’s going on- What the fuck? Doll?” he replaced where Sam was so that he could continue to explain to the doctor what was happening.

“I’m just not feeling ok, it’s fine Bucky go back to work”, you were somewhat delirious, still not really opening your eyes but leaning into the coldness from Bucky’s hand as he cupped your face. Bucky looked to Sam for answers, his eyes bright and alert with fury and worry.

When Sam shrugged his shoulders, not having any answer as to why you were suddenly so unwell, Bucky quickly turned back to you and assessed your deteriorating health and noticed just how laboured your breathing had become. As he spoke, it was with surprising gentleness but still held authority, “I need you to take a deep breath for me, honey, I want you to try and fill your lungs with air”.

“I’m trying, it’s just seasonal illness, it’ll be ok”.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asks, not letting go of your face but just moving in closer.

“It’s just seasonal”, your words began to slur as you became incoherent.

Steve finally descended the stairs with just as much purpose as Bucky as he demanded to know what was going on but Bucky couldn’t answer him as he continued to talk to you and keep you awake. “It’s not seasonal, you’re not breathing properly, it’s not-”. Bucky was leaning so close that he was able to smell your breath and he froze, it looked like he now wasn’t even breathing.

“What is it Bucky?” Steve demanded, kneeling next to him and reaching over to take your hand but also feel your pulse, which only made his own increase with worry.

Bucky leans closer and smells your mouth again, so close that you tried to move away as his nose nudged your lips. “What did you eat?” Bucky asked in a tone that forced your eyes to open with concern.

“Huh? Um just my soup”, you say whilst blinking quickly as he still wouldn’t come into focus.

“Soup? Where is it? Where’s the container?” before you could answer, he was on his feet and running into the kitchen as Steve continued to demand answers from his boyfriend, his hand now moving from your wrist to directly over your heart, continuing to count the beats.

Bucky cursed so violently that it actually made you shrink into the cushions but the movement only made you cough more and chest tighten as you struggled to breathe. He returned to the room, his face a deathly white and green shade as he uttered just one word: “Hemlock”.

There was just one brief second where not a body in the room breathed or even moved, one single second to process the poison that Bucky had spoken, the planet that he only knew about because of his time as the Winter Soldier and using it on his target. The poison that he could now smell on your breath, that originated from your container of soup.

It was Sam to speak first, Sam to snap the two men out of their frozen states as he gave the orders from Doctor Banner who had heard the word over the phone. “We need to get her to a hospital right now”.

Steve picked you up, and his entire body began to tremble with adrenaline and fear as no one even stopped to properly dress for the snow outside, only putting their shoes on before rushing to the car. Sam thankfully was able to use the adrenaline to remain headstrong as he climbed into the driver’s side of the car so that Steve and Bucky could both hold you in the back seats and try and keep you awake.

You were lying with your head in Steve’s lap with your body lying across Bucky’s as they clamped their arms around you as makeshift seatbelts. You had heard the word that Bucky had said and even though you knew what it was, you didn’t want to believe it, even as you continued to feel worse. “It’s not poison, it’s just soup”.

However, those words triggered something within your throat and once more you were coughing so hard that you thought you were going to vomit and cringed as metallic warmth filled your mouth and leaked out of the corner of your lips.

You slumped onto Steve and Bucky, head lulling back but Steve was quick to grab your face, tapping it and forcing you to stay awake, “Baby don’t go to sleep! Please stay awake for me! Stay with us, we’ll be at the hospital soon, I promise”.

You were scared, even though you were half-conscious, you were terrified now realising the severity of the situation, knowing that you were coughing up blood which was now soaking the front of Steve’s shirt and hearing how panicked your boyfriends were only made it worse. Through all the scary, dangerous times in your life, they always remained calm and in control but now they were both frantic and frightened. 

As all three men continued to plead with you to stay awake, you forced yourself to open your eyes, only allowing yourself the luxury of blinking occasionally as you kept looking into Steve’s ocean-blue eyes. With his body and face so close to yours, you used him to ground you in the situation, trying to copy his breathing which had slowed since you’d opened your eyes; ignoring the pain from the breaths and resisting the urges to cough even though blood continued to fill your mouth.

“Am I going to die?” you whisper, not being able to ignore the questions now in the back of your mind anymore.

Steve’s breath hitched for a second before he tried to confidently whisper, “No, you’re not going to die”.

You didn’t believe him, especially as the trip to the hospital was delayed by the snow, every second feeling like it could be your worse, you didn’t want it to end like this.

“I love you.”

“You’re going to be ok, just keep looking at Steve, keep breathing”, Bucky pleaded, squeezing your freezing cold hand.

“Please, just say it back”, your voice was hardly audible anymore as your mouth was so full of blood.

“Stop talking and save your energy for when you’re feeling better”, Bucky tried to keep his composure but you knew he was close to snapping.

Your breaths were wet and laboured, wheezing so violently it rattled and echoed around the car but you still managed to plead, “Say it back-”.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, please don’t leave me, baby”. Steve snapped first, his eyes were wide, fearful and yet beautiful with how stark the blue was as his eyes filled with tears, leaking down his cheek and into his beard.

You were thankful, for both of them, for everything and you wish you could have told them, wishing that you could have heard Bucky’s own declaration of love and adoration for you but the pounding of your heartbeat became so loud in your head that you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

But you continued to hold on, never once looking away from those pretty eyes of Steve’s as Sam finally screeched to a halt outside of the hospital. Once more, Steve carried you and there was a flurry of people in different coloured scrubs suddenly surrounding you as you were placed onto a cold bed.

One moment you were staring into Steve’s eyes and the next you were looking up at a stranger and the comfort you’d once felt, the thing that was grounding you to life was now gone and you couldn’t find him again, no matter how much you moved on the bed, even as the strangers poked and prodded at your body until you couldn’t deal with it anymore and finally closed your eyes.

Do you ever have those naps where you wake up and forget where you are, or what time or day it is? That was currently how you felt except the added sensation of floating encompassed your body as well. The only sort of normality felt throughout your body was a cool feminine hand stroking across your temple in a soothing, repetitive manner.

Your toes wiggled firstly and then your eyes behind your eyelids and even though you knew who was stroking your forehead, you still croakily asked, “Steve? Bucky?”

“It’s just me Sugar” Natasha sounded calm and peaceful as her fingers didn’t stop with their soothing motions. “The boys are going to be so pissed that you’re awake before they’ve got back”.

You huff and dared to open your eyes, grunting at the brightness of the room but thankfully your eyes adjusted and only one, still, Natasha smiled down at you. Seeing that you weren’t going to vomit or freak out, Natasha sat back in her chair, moving to hold onto your hand to give you some comfort. “You gave us a real scare”.

You thought back to everything that happened, some of it was a blur but most of it still played through your mind like a horror movie that you couldn’t look away from or escape. “Was I really poisoned?”

There was one thing that you appreciated about Natasha and that was her blunt honesty, not one to ever sugarcoat her words, “You were”.

“But… But how? I mean… the soup, Rafael, he wouldn’t-”. You stopped yourself talking, trying to envision all the interactions you’d had with him but only one thing repeated through your thoughts: Don’t trust anyone. That was one of the first rules Steve had taught you. “I don’t understand why? He seemed so nice to me, is his name even Rafael? Was everything a lie?”

“That’s what they’re just finding out. Apparently, the friend of a friend rouse was made up including his credentials, usually, our background checks are very thorough but he had some help to slip through the cracks”.

“Do you know what help he had? Who it was, I mean?”

Natasha for once seemed to think before she spoke which unnerved you, knowing that whoever’s name she spoke next wouldn’t be good news.

The monitor displaying your heartbeat began to beep as it increased with the dread that was settling through your body.

“All signs are currently pointing to Pierce”.

Your eyes closed as you tried to remember how to breathe. You knew about Alexander Pierce. Everyone did. He was ruthless and had plenty of finances and power to pay for his success but not only this, he had been one of the top employees of Hydra and usually in charge of the Winter Soldier. So yes, you all knew a lot about Alexander Pierce and his name was one to send fear through any of those involved in the Rogers mafia, even Steve.

As you opened your eyes again to look at Natasha, you could tell she wanted to tell you more but was holding the information to not panic you further but you needed to know. “Please just tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me”.

“We think he paid this guy to come and spy on Steve and Bbucky and it seems he put his sights on you. Specifically.. Because you’re their biggest weakness and it seemed like everyone knows that”.

Your face warmed with fear and anger, as fear prickled the corner of your eyes, “So what, now I’m not even safe in my own home?”

“That’s not-” Tasha began to lean forward in her seat but another voice cut her off.

“No, you weren’t safe in your own home”. Steve stood at your hospital room door, dressed casually in a black shirt and jeans, looking nothing out of the ordinary but his face was wrath of calm and anger. Your eyes snapped from him to Bucky who had looked just as serious but as your eyes connected with his, the hard lines of his face smoothed out into a weak smile.

The two of them step into the room as Natasha stands, informing everyone that she’d give us some space and guard the door.

You’re trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, to keep them from slipping and cascading down your cheeks, not wanting your boyfriends to feel any more guilt but as you took a deep breath in, a sob erupts through you and you can’t keep the emotions back anymore.

You attempted to hide your face with your hands, even with the added difficulty of having tubes and wires attached to the backs of your hands and the tips of your fingers. The realities of everything that had happened began to destroy any hope that you had. You’d nearly died, in your own home where you were supposed to be most safe.

Steve and Bucky sat on either side of your hospital bed, moving silently as they always did and with careful ease, gently took a hand each and pried them away from your face, stroking away any tears that continued to escape.

“I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know… It’s a lot”, you tried to give reason for your crying, even though it was unnecessary. Bucky tilted your face towards him, his voice was so soft and caring that it nearly made you sob with how careful he was being with you, “Don’t apologise for crying, I tell you this all the time, Doll”.

You offered him a wet giggle, taking a few deep breaths before rambling on with your anxiety, “I bet I look like a right mess right now, I don’t even know how long I’ve been asleep for”.

They let you calm yourself down before Steve praises with his low captivating voice, “You always look beautiful, no matter how much snot is on your face”. He smiles as he manages to make you laugh before he turned serious, “It’s been 5 days, baby”.

Your face drops, “5… I’ve been asleep for 5 days?!”

“You passed out when we arrived and when they could finally stop the bleeding you-”

“Bleeding?” you questioned, remembering you were bleeding from the mouth but it didn’t seem like that much.

“The poison you’d ingested that day was a higher dose and caused internal bleeding. After they were able to stabilise you, they needed to detox you from the poison and make sure your body was healing so it was safe to keep you asleep”.

You tried to process everything that Steve had told you, it felt confusing for you to have been through so much and yet feel such little pain in your body.

As if reading your mind, Bucky once again captivated your attention as he asked, “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“No I’m not in any pain but I feel wrong like my body is floating in the water or something”.

“That might be due to the medications that they’ve got you on, they’re pretty strong Sweetheart”, his pet name helped to calm your disorientated mind, clinging on to the familiarity and focusing on the way both of their hands were holding yours and stroking tiny circles in your skin,

“Did you get the answers you wanted, from Rafael, or whatever his name is”.

Steve and Bucky shared a glance between each other but Steve decided to be the one to answer. “We got the answers, it was as Nat was explaining. Pierce wanted someone in the gang, spying and getting as close to us as possible and I guess they somehow managed to weasel their way in and tried to succeed with their plan to hit our weak spot”.

You took a deep breath to try and reduce the rising anxiety in the pit of your stomach before asking tentatively, “So what happens now? With Pierce I mean.”

“That’s a problem for another time, just need you to get better first”, Bucky interjected, lifting your hand to kiss the few fingers that were attached with clips or wires.

You tried to smile at him, wanting him to know how much you appreciate him but the feeling never met your eyes and this seemed to twist something in Steve and Bucky. Both of their demeanours changed, no longer were you looking at just your boyfriends but also the mafia boss and his second in command, mixing business with family.

Bucky began talking first, tone strong and husky, “This isn’t something we are taking likely. Sam’s already spent the last day and a half revisiting everyone’s past, making sure there are no other moles that have slipped through the cracks. No new faces are allowed anywhere near our home or you.”

As he spoke, you managed sure to nod your head and try to squeeze his hand in understanding. Steve shifted in his chair, capturing your attention as he continued the discussion. “You are safe and you should have been safe but we let you down, you were vulnerable when we weren’t there to protect you like we promised we would. We let you down, we broke our promise, we could understand if you didn’t want-”.

“Whatever you’re about to say you better forget about it right now”, you say sternly, heartbeat beginning to race on the monitor again as Steve’s mouth shut quickly with a snap. “The idea of being your weakness has always frightened me but, I could also be your greatest strength. I mean - Look at what you’ve been going just to protect the house, to protect me. I know you feel like you’ve let me down but I don’t feel let down in any way. Yes, of course, what’s happened is scary, especially in our home but I doubt it’ll ever happen again. They can try and tear us apart, they can try, but they won’t break us, they can’t break us. We have to remain on top ok? I always feel safe and trusted when I’,m with you both so please, don’t ever feel like I'm not because I am. I’ll always love you both, I’m not going anywhere”.

You sucked in air greedily after your short speech, the building emotions spilling freely everything you truly believed to the men beside you, not wishing for them to ever feel doubt for the relationship or how you felt.

Looking between them both, your heart sank as you noticed Bucky quickly wipe the corner of his eye. “I thought you said no more tears”, you spoke softly whilst trying to wipe away a stray tear.

“That’s before you decided to swoon me with your speech”, he quipped back, the light returning to his eyes once more as you laughed.

“I love you Bucky”.

“I love you, Doll”, standing from his chair, his metal hand stroked over the side of your face as he captured your lips with his, lingering for a few beautiful seconds before sitting back down.

Steve had lifted your hand during your speech and was kissing your palm and you reached out to stroke his beard, “I love you, Steve”.

He too stood, just as Bucky had but he kissed your forehead first, breathing you in for a moment before doing the same against your lips. “I love you too, so much baby”.

As Steve sat back down, your eyes began to feel heavy, all of the strong emotions exhausted you completely. “Will you both be here when I wake up? Not that I’m complaining about Natasha but she doesn’t spoon me like you both do”.

They both chuckle under their breath before Steve promises, “We aren’t going anywhere, sleep, Sweetheart”.