#Oh and hand sanitizer. of course

[supercantaloupe]

What items do you always have in your purse that are fun or unusual

earplugs for loud environments

tiny deck of cards. i don't think ive ever played a card game with them but they're a nice fidget

my cool poison ivy pen

wallet multitool

unscented deodorant stick

usb flash drive

trail mix bar

epipen

menstrual pad

sometimes tinted face sunscreen (it's beige so it doesn't make you look pasty white when you wear it. but i think i put it in a different bag after summer ended)

tube of antibac ointment (need to start carrying some bandaids too...)

mini bottle of painkillers

[kwonkissed]

college!wonwoo who gets sick on campus one time and immediately develops a crush on the student nurse that assisted him at the health clinic.

you’re sweet and kind (like all nurses should be), but you’re also really chatty. talking about your humanities course and the readings you have that week. and wonwoo, being so whipped, just nods along thinking, “maybe I should read up on this sartre guy…”

when he leaves, he already misses the conversation. but he shakes it off. they’re cute and they’ve done your job, he thinks. now it’s time for him to get over it. except he doesn’t. because a few days later he finds himself back in the health clinic with an “earache”.

and he prays that you’re the one that attends to him that day, because if not, this would be really embarrassing. but it is you who opens the door to his room, a bit shocked that this cute boy has returned.

“hello, i’m— oh, it’s you. back so soon,” you quip, sanitizing your hands and walking over to him. “still having symptoms of your cold?”

“uh, no actually. something different. it’s,” he clears his throat. he’s never been a good liar. “um, it’s my ear this time.”

“hm, alright then,” you say with a smile. “i’ll get your vitals and check your chart, and then the doctor should be in shortly.” wonwoo nodded. you put the blood pressure cuff on his arm. your fingers dance across his bicep as you fit it around him, and he tries to will his racing heart to stop beating so hard — it’s going to give him away.

“everything looks good on my end,” you say as you flip through his paperwork. “it might be a minute, but a doctor will be in here. holler if you need me.” you give him a warm smile and turn to exit the room. ah, screw it.

“hey, I don’t know if this is too forward, but could i take you out sometime? or walk to you home? something?” wonwoo’s words spill out of him like a dam’s been broken. your eyebrows have shot you up your forehead, and wonwoo braces for this inevitable rejection.

you giggle. you’re giggling at him. wonwoo doesn’t know if this is worse than there being no response at all.

“aw, you’re cute,” you say, taking a step toward him. you bite your lip and look down at your watch. “i get off at two,” you whisper. a heat creeps up wonwoo’s face and it only makes you giggle more. god, he’d love to hear that sound forever.

“it’s a date then,” he says grinning. you beam back at him and close the door.

wonwoo’s so excited about seeing you later that when the doctor comes in for his appointment, he forgets which ear was supposed to be hurting.

[cherspastries]

HOW STRANGE,

TO DREAM OF YOU.

THE ARTIST & THE ATHLETE

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

SUMMARY 𐙚 Danny seeks out a new tattoo artist: You! He keeps finding excuses to come visit you, and it’s obvious.

WARNINGS 𐙚 Fluff, suggestive jokes, partially written but primarily a smau

A/N 𐙚 Hi guys! Thank you sm for all the support :)

DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN

yourusername

📍 Tattoo Parlor

liked by friend1, friend2, danielricciardo, and 1.2K others

yourusername Finishing up work in the shop :) Made lots of progress today 🤘

view all comments

user1 Baddie

friend1 💍??

user2 She’s so pretty

user3 I’ve been here and the service is great 😍

yourusername Happy to be of service!

user4 Do you do piercings?

yourusername Our shop does, yes! I don’t do them myself though

→ user4 Great tysm!

user5 Five day drive. Should I go?

yourusername Absolutely 🔥

𐙚

𐙚

𐙚

danielricciardo

🎵 De La Soul • The Magic Number

liked by yourusername, lando, and 302K others

danielricciardo I got great service and a new tattoo 🔥

tagged tattoo.parlor, yourusername

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user1 This is so cute 🥹

user2 Ahh another tattoo to the collection!!

user3 OMG I’ve been there, my favorite artist is Y/N they’re soo sweet

yourusername That’s me!! Hope you’re healing up okay :)

user4 This is so fire

lando You know what’s even funnier than 3

danielricciardo 4!!!

user5 I miss him everyday

user6 So real

𐙚

𐙚

𐙚

𐙚

For about the fourth time this week you found yourself looking up upon the chime of the door’s bell, only to see Danny wandering back into the shop. Your client gasped, trying to hold deathly still despite the excitement of witnessing a Formula One driver right in front of him. You pulled the tattoo gun away, sitting back in your chair.

“Welcome in, Danny,” You called out nonchalantly. Your client pushed themself up onto their forearms, hissing as their back scrunched up, applying a sting to the fresh tattoo. “I’ll be with you in just a sec.”

“Nah, take your time.” He sat himself in one of the lobby chairs, getting a few rather obvious stares from other clients who were waiting. You quickly finished up the piece you were working on, checked out your client, and then approached your newfound friend.

“What’re you in for this time?” You crossed your arms over your chest, giving him a pointed expression. Danny held his hands up, playing the role of innocent. “Oh, please.”

“Hey, is it a crime to visit a friend?”

“When they’re working, yeah.”

“Hey— I’m paying you!” You both laughed. Other patrons eyed you both, unsure of what to make of the interaction. It was weird to see some local artist such as yourself talking to a hit celebrity like Daniel Ricciardo.

“Seriously though, what do you want? Another touch up? Something new?” You walked away to take your gloves off, applying hand sanitizer afterwards. It was important to keep the place clean and hygienic. People already trusted you with their skin, letting you apply something permanent. It would be rude if you got them sick while you were at it.

He trailed after you like a lost animal, leaning up against the counter next to you. He’d been there about six times now, and he was already acting like you owned the place. Of course, you didn’t mind, but it was always entertaining to watch someone become so familiar with your little shop.

“Nah,” He looked around like he was stalling for time, huffing a sigh. You raised your brow and tilted your head. “I just wanted to know if you’d accompany me on a date. Nothing too fancy.”

You raised your brows with amusement, a little smile decorating your lips. The same lips he had been nonstop staring at, because they were so plump and pretty and he just wanted to steal a kiss away from you immediately. “Yeah?” Oh and that voice of yours. Smooth like honey, and absolutely beautiful. “What if I want fancy?”

“Then you’ll get fancy,” Danny replied as if he was willing to give you anything you wanted. It was instantaneous. He didn’t even need to think about it.

“No,” You lightly smacked his chest. “I’d love to go on a date with you, but you’re right. Fancy’s not my thing.” He grinned. You could tell he had managed to keep his cool, but you could also sense the relief flooding him at your positive response. As if you’d say no. “7pm Saturday. Don’t be late.”

He didn’t even get to reply before you were leading another client back to the chair. He watched you walk away, stunned by your confidence. He watched knowing that he picked the right person…

𐙚

yourusername

🎵 Eagles • Hotel California - 2013 Remaster

liked by danielricciardo, lando, friend1, and 12.3K others

yourusername Don’t be jealous but 💋

tagged danielricciardo

view all comments

user1 We used to pray for times like these

user2 Hottest couple ever

danielricciardo 🤤🤤🤤

yourusername Who are you drooling over? 🤨

→ danielricciardo Uhhh… you ofc!! 😥

ー→ yourusername Good boy 😏

ーー→ lando EWWW

lando I’m so jealous of you 😖

yourusername We can share him

→ user3 They’re so funny I love them

user4 Gorgeous beautiful radiant princess… Oh and Y/N too

yourusername I get it. He’s such a princess

danielricciardo Come over here and kiss me on my hot mouth

user5 They’re so gross. so happy for them…

[castillon02]

Tim reviews Jason's operations management and makes a suggestion.

"Your first move: hire a head of sanitation," Tim said.

"You think a janitor's gonna solve my suddenly-successful-startup problems? What, by sweeping them away?" Jason rolled his eyes.

Tim steepled his fingers. “The good news,” he said, “is that your drug distribution and community norms enforcement hierarchy is very clear. You also have people doing marketing, program management, HR, facilities, and admin. Your system of rotating duties when people get injured isn’t bad—people generally benefit from cross-training—but you should formalize the top positions and compensate your new leadership team. Including sanitation.” 

“Sure, sure, I'll just tell one of my guys their job is to be head shit-scrubber instead of a badass neighborhood protector!" Jason threw up his hands.

Tim raised his eyebrows.

“It’s bad enough getting them to clean up a crime scene when they’re on my literal shit list! A couple of them thought that lighting the building on fire was an easier way to get it to stop smelling bad and having DNA. Guess who had to add five new slides to his powerpoint about evidence disposal?" Jason glared.

Tim grimaced. "I had an intern in the office who thought that he could just throw trash off his desk for the cleaning staff to pick up."

He and Jason shared a commiserating look that silently said, We were both stupid enough to work with the League of Assassins, and even we wouldn't do that.

“Anyway," Tim continued, "since you're dealing with...that...you can just hire an outside party. Lots of people in Gotham know how to clean up dead bodies and keep their mouths shut. I can advertise the position and send you the likeliest candidates for an interview. I’ll have to incorporate you, of course, but I’ve had the paperwork ready since I got back from the Middle East.” 

“Incorporate me?” 

“Red Hood LLC, technically."

Jason's breathing became calculatedly even.

"Once you’re legit in the eyes of the law, we can work on squaring away everyone’s taxes and keep you from getting Capone’d.” 

“I’m as legit as one of Two-Face’s two-dollar bills!” 

“Yeah, but when you’re an LLC, all your crimes are white-collar crimes, and no one cares about those.” Tim shrugged.

“...Pretty sure that’s not how that works, bud.” 

“It’s how the court of public opinion works. And if anyone tries to say that Red Hood, CEO of Red Hood LLC, and Red Hood, notorious vigilante, are the same person? Tell them to prove it. So what if you have the same outfit? It’s a free country and people can wear what they want. And if they ever get your DNA results, Oracle says no they didn't.”

Jason tilted his head and started smiling. "You want Red Hood to be the Scarlet Pimpernel and Percy Blakeney. At the same time."

"The more blatant you are about it, the better. Rub elbows with Gotham's elite and tell them that you can't imagine why someone would let a Crime Alley vigilante ruin their ability to wear a red hood as a fashion statement, but in your company, people have spines. Especially when they're job creators. If you play your cards right, red headgear will be back in fashion."

"And then?"

"And then," Tim's eyes gleamed, "you start selling merch."

"Oh, shit." Jason's smile turned into a full-on smirk.

"On a sliding scale, of course."

"Those nepo babies are gonna pay me so much money to look cool."

Tim smiled. "And that's how hiring a head shit-scrubber is going to mitigate your high growth and cash flow problems."

[lovecumdumpy]

Filling the Emptiness

↳ “you don’t have to be perfect. you just have to stay.”

➤ anakin skywalker x reader

➤ oneshot | 7k(?) | angst with comfort | canon-ish au | slow burn | best friends to lovers | HUUGE eating disorder tw | hurt/comfort | emotional intimacy | confession scene | he loves you so bad it HURTS | not very well proofread, dm me ab grammar mistakes if u want

summary ⭑ you’ve been falling apart quietly. training too long, eating too little, keeping your pain wrapped in silence. but anakin has always paid too much attention—has always cared too much to let it go.

The Temple kitchens were always quiet after hours. A few lingering droids hummed about, cleaning the chrome counters and sanitizing the few dishes left behind by late-night Padawans. You weren’t supposed to be here.

You sat at one of the corner tables, arms folded across your stomach as though to keep the gnawing ache from swallowing you whole. A cup of untouched caf sat in front of you, going cold.

You hadn’t eaten today. Not really. A few bites of fruit during training. That was all you had allowed. The rest had felt too heavy. Too much.

“Why does this feel like a punishment?” you whispered aloud, to no one.

“You tell me.”

You jumped.

Anakin stood in the doorway, arms crossed, cloak rumpled like he hadn’t been to his quarters yet. His eyes—sharp, sky blue, always too intense—were unreadable in the low light. You swallowed hard, guilt blooming like a bruise in your chest. You knew he’d find you eventually.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’ve been looking for you.”

You shrugged, playing oblivious. “I needed air.”

If he sensed through the Force that you were lying somehow, he didn’t give any indication. He merely pushed off where he leaned and promptly made his way over to you.

You straightened up as he approached, trying to appear more awake, more alert. You wanted to look alive, though you certainly didn’t feel like it. You knew your dull, sleep deprived eyes revealed as much, so you avoided any eye contact the best you could.

Anakin took a seat at the table. Not directly next to you, but close enough to spark a nervous warmth in your blood. An effect he often had on you. Though, you subconsciously appreciated that heat now. You were always so cold these days…

“What did you need?”

“I have some… concerns,” he said, voice low.

You resisted the urge to groan. “Concerns?”

You knew what he meant. Of course you did. He didn’t answer immediately. Just studied you—brows furrowed, jaw set.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally asked, “Are you unwell?”

You gave a short, bitter laugh. “Wow. Every girl’s favorite compliment.”

Anakin didn’t smile.

“I’m serious.”

The attempt at humor evaporated from your face. Your fingers curled tighter against your ribs. Your vision wavered—edges fuzzing like your body was deciding it had had enough—but you blinked through it, trained in the art of denial.

“I’m fine,” you said. You weren’t.

“What do you mean?” You knew exactly what he meant.

The weak smile you wore faded as quick as it appeared. Your vision was beginning to darken around the edges again, and you ignored it. Just like before, and the time before that.

You started to shake your head no when he grabbed your flesh hand with his metal one. Your heart jumped, but you didn’t flinch with Anakin. Never with Anakin.

“You were awful during training today.” You lightly scoffed and moved to pull away your arm, but his steel grip held firm. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

You finally gathered the courage to look up and meet his gaze. He stared very intently at your face. Observing, scanning every detail. It made you want to squirm.

He wasn’t going to let this go easily. You knew him. Better than you knew yourself to be honest. Once Anakin was onto something, he was impossible to derail. Your mouth moved before your mind could catch up.

“I’m— I’m on my period,” you stammered, cheeks heating with the effort of the lie. “That’s all.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh,” Anakin said, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. He blinked, clearly not expecting that answer, and for once, it seemed to actually knock the wind out of his focus. His grip loosened on your wrist, just enough that you could have pulled away if you wanted to. You didn’t.

He glanced aside, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. You didn’t think you’d ever seen Anakin Skywalker look… awkward.

“Right. Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck with his metal hand. “I didn’t mean to— I just…”

You watched him flounder for a moment, and in spite of the nausea twisting in your stomach, it almost made you want to laugh.

He was flustered.

“I just noticed you’ve been… off,” he said eventually, softer now, eyes not quite meeting yours. “Didn’t mean to overstep.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t. Really.” Your voice was steadier than before, and you leaned into the moment, relieved he wasn’t pressing further. “Training just hit a little harder today, that’s all.”

He gave a small nod, still clearly uncomfortable with the whole topic. “You, uh… want me to bring you something? From the mess?”

You hesitated. The thought of food—warm, filling, real—made your stomach twist. But the last thing you wanted was for him to start hovering again.

“No, I’m okay. Just needed a minute.”

“Okay,” he echoed, and this time when he looked at you, his eyes had softened. “But if you start throwing training sabers at people tomorrow, I’ll assume that’s the hormones talking.”

You rolled your eyes. “So funny.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips, and for a moment, things felt lighter again. Not fixed, and maybe not safe. But less fragile.

He stood, cloak swaying with the motion, and looked like he was debating saying more. But he didn’t. Just nodded toward the caf. “That’s probably cold by now.”

“I wasn’t really planning to drink it.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He lingered there a second longer, then turned toward the doorway. “Get some rest, okay?”

You nodded once. “You too.”

He hesitated—one foot out the door—then glanced back at you over his shoulder. “And hey… if you ever need anything,” he said, the faintest edge of sincerity in his voice, “I mean it.”

“I know.”

He didn’t smile. But he looked like he might’ve wanted to.

Then he left.

And you were alone again, the silence folding back in around you like a blanket. You stared down at the cooling cup of caf, the bitter smell turning your stomach.

You pushed it aside.

..

Training you had never been boring.

Even when you were exhausted or sarcastic or pretending not to be nervous. Especially then.

Today wasn’t any different—at least not at first.

Anakin stood at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, watching you cycle through the sequence again. Your brow furrowed in focus, bottom lip pulled slightly between your teeth as your saber carved the air.

“You’re still stiff through the shoulders,” he called out, teasing. “You trying to impress someone or preparing for battle with a coat rack?”

You snorted—an undignified little sound that made the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

“I am relaxed,” you argued, resetting your stance.

“No, you’re tense.” He stepped forward now, his voice easing into something softer. “You’re fighting your own swing.”

“I’m not fighting—”

“You are,” he said, grinning now as he walked behind you. “You’re gripping like the saber owes you money.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t stop him when he moved in closer. He could feel the slight shift in your breath as he stepped into your space, one hand gently resting on your shoulder blade, the other brushing your elbow.

“Alright,” he said, keeping his tone low and measured. “Just breathe. Let me show you.”

You nodded, silent now.

He moved around you, wrapping his hand over yours on the saber hilt. His chest hovered just behind your shoulder, warm and steady. Carefully, he guided your hands through the motion.

“This is all it needs,” he said. “No brute force. Just follow the curve.”

You didn’t respond—but you didn’t pull away either.

And then, mid-motion, he noticed it. Gently, absentmindedly—he brushed his thumb over your knuckles.

There wasn’t much there to cushion it anymore.

Your hand under his felt… thinner. More fragile. And so cold. The ridge of your knuckles more pronounced than he remembered. His fingers brushed along your wrist, and he could feel the tendons shifting beneath skin that didn’t feel like it used to.

He stilled, only for a breath. It wasn’t something he meant to notice—it just registered.

His eyes dipped down briefly.

Your tunic sleeves had slipped slightly. Your shoulder looked sharper than it should’ve. He saw the hard line of your collarbone beneath the loose fold of your neckline. Had your robes always fit like that?

Anakin blinked, once. Let go slowly.

He stepped back without a word.

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his energy, though you glanced at him briefly—confused, maybe. Hopeful.

“Better,” he said aloud. It was true. Your form had improved. But his mind was somewhere else now.

He rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain. He didn’t want to overthink it. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the lighting was weird. Maybe he was tired.

But he knew what he felt.

“Try again,” he said, more distant now. Still calm. But… cooler.

You obeyed.

You went through the motion, saber slicing cleanly through the air—elbow turned just right, shoulder loose. Technically, you’d nailed it.

“That’s more like it,” he said after a pause. But his voice lacked the usual warmth.

You turned, trying to catch his eye—waiting for the usual faint smirk, the little quirk of praise he gave when you impressed him.

It didn’t come.

“You’re letting me off easy,” you said, half-joking. “Should I be worried?”

Anakin looked at you again—your smile just a little too forced, your posture just a little too still.

He forced a smile of his own. “Call it a reward for finally listening to me.”

“You’ll ruin your reputation if you keep being nice.”

“I’ll risk it.”

You laughed, and it eased something in his chest. Just a little.

Still, as you powered down your saber and grabbed your things, Anakin found himself watching again. Not staring. Just observing.

Your sharp edges, your baggy sleeves, the faint way your frigid fingers curled in when you weren’t thinking about it.

It was probably nothing.

Probably.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked as you headed toward the exit.

“Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Get some rest, alright?”

You raised a brow. “You too, Master Skywalker.”

He rolled his eyes at the title, but didn’t push further.

Once you were gone, he stayed there on the mat a moment longer, running a hand through his hair.

Something didn’t feel right. But not in the way he could name.

Not yet.

..

Wake up early. Earlier than anyone else. Run until your lungs burned and your legs went shaky. Meditate until the noise in your head thinned to static. Tea. Maybe fruit, if you’d earned it. Then classes. Then drills. Then solo saber forms when no one was looking. You pushed harder. Always harder.

You wanted to be smaller.

Not just in frame. In presence. In weight. In need.

You were already quiet. Already careful. But your body still existed—still betrayed you. Still demanded things like rest, food, help. You hated that. You hated being tethered to something so messy.

So you carved it down.

Bit by bit. Breath by breath.

You knew the numbers. Not just in the metrics of weight or calories, but in the feel of your clothes, the sharpness of your joints. The way your knees pressed together more easily. The way your hands looked more like bones when wrapped around your saber hilt.

Some days, the emptiness felt almost holy—like a secret power curled up just beneath your ribs. It made your thoughts clearer. Your movements lighter. Your focus tighter. It was hunger, yes, but it also felt like strength.

Other days, it knocked the air out of you. Your fingers would go numb, your heart would race for no reason, your knees would buckle too easily when you stood too fast. That was fine. That was manageable. It meant it was working.

Because if you didn’t control this—if you didn’t control something—what did you even have left?

You couldn’t stop the war. You couldn’t change the Council’s decisions. You couldn’t stop the nightmares or the pressure or the fact that no one ever really saw you unless you were bleeding for it.

But this?

This you could control.

And you would.

..

Anakin didn’t usually patrol the Temple halls this late. But ever since that last training session—since the feel of your bones under his hand, the way you looked jagged and sharper all around—something in him had changed.

He didn’t look for you, not deliberately. At least, that’s what he told himself. But still, every night, he wandered past the lower sparring rooms or the track facility. Just in case.

You were always there.

Tonight was no different.

You were running again. Not a casual jog. Not a warm-up. This was the kind of running meant to burn something away. Something internal.

Your expression never shifted. Eyes locked ahead, jaw tight, arms pumping in precise rhythm. You looked like you were at war with your own body—and determined to win.

Anakin watched from the doorway. Unseen. Not yet intervening.

He wasn’t sure when this had started, exactly. He just knew it had progressed fast. You used to complain when warm-ups lasted more than fifteen minutes. Now he’d seen you run past exhaustion, run until you limped.

And you were thinner. Not just leaner. Not just “training-season” focused. Hollow. Your features had sharpened. Your robes hung off your shoulders. You folded into yourself when you weren’t thinking. He’d seen your hands tremble when you reached for your lightsaber earlier that day.

And when you missed a step on the stairs yesterday—just a little stumble, nothing dramatic—it had hit him with terrifying clarity.

This wasn’t overwork. This wasn’t coincidence. You were hurting.

And no one else seemed to see it.

..

“Hey, has she been eating with the others lately?” Anakin asked casually, leaning over a stack of flight reports.

Ahsoka raised an eyebrow at him, a little smirk tugging at her mouth. “You’ve been asking about her a lot.”

He didn’t bite.

“I just want to make sure my padawans are taking care of themselves.”

“She’s not your padawan.”

“I didn’t say she was.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “I mean, I see her with tea. Maybe fruit. But no full meals, not with the group. If she’s eating at all, it’s in secret.”

That sat wrong in his stomach.

“She’s… quiet lately, too,” Ahsoka added. “And tired.”

Anakin nodded once and didn’t say anything else.

..

The refresher lights were too bright.

You leaned against the cold sink, breathing slowly. Not from nausea. That had passed. This was the part after—when your body was trying to settle, and your mind wouldn’t.

You hadn’t meant to do it again.

You’d promised yourself—not this week. Not again.

But the portion was too big. And the food sat heavy. And your skin itched with shame just from swallowing it.

So you excused yourself. Casually. Like nothing was wrong. Like it was a normal thing to disappear into the ‘fresher after dinner and run the water so no one would hear.

Now, your throat burned. Your hands trembled faintly where they gripped the edge of the basin. You stared at yourself in the mirror and tried not to look.

Your eyes were bloodshot. Not terribly. Just enough. Your cheeks flushed. Hairline damp with sweat.

You look fine.

You didn’t believe it.

You looked like someone else. Like a stranger you were slowly chiseling down.

You rinsed your mouth, brushed your teeth with slow, robotic movements. Checked your reflection again. Tied your tunic tighter around your waist like it might hide the evidence of… something.

Then you pressed a hand to your stomach—flat, empty now—and exhaled.

There. Better.

You could breathe again.

..

Anakin started showing up more often.

Not in a suspicious way—at least, not at first. He just happened to appear wherever you were. Late in the training halls. In the Temple cafeteria. On quiet patrols that used to be yours alone.

You pretended not to notice.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked casually, dropping his tray next to yours one afternoon.

You mindless nodded and blinked down at your own tray. A mug of tea. A slice of melon, untouched. A handful of dry crackers that you’d only moved around for appearance.

Anakin’s tray, by contrast, was full—nothing extravagant, just actual food. He didn’t comment on your plate. Didn’t say a word about it.

He just sat. Ate. Talked about nothing and everything—Council business, bad dreams, some snide comment Obi-Wan made that he still hadn’t forgiven.

It became a pattern.

Sometimes he’d ask, “You already ate?”

Sometimes he’d say, “I’m starving—hope you’re hungry.”

Sometimes he’d drop off a muffin next to you without comment and walk away.

You didn’t know how to fight that.

So you didn’t. But you didn’t stop running, either.

You pushed yourself harder. Longer sessions. Extra drills. Midnight laps. The ache in your legs became something you needed—proof of effort, proof you were trying.

You were still in control. Or at least, you thought you were.

Until the control slipped.

It happened at the top of the east stairwell—three steps from the landing. Your vision narrowed, the edges turning soft and grey, and then everything went quiet.

It wasn’t dramatic.

You didn’t cry out. Didn’t collapse like some fragile, broken doll. You just… folded.

When you blinked next, you were on the floor.

And Anakin was kneeling beside you.

His arms were under your shoulders before you could speak. One hand on the back of your head, the other bracing your spine. He said your name—sharp, urgent. Too real.

You pushed at his chest.

“I’m fine—just tripped—”

“You didn’t trip,” he said, voice low, furious. “You passed out. You were gone for at least ten seconds.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, the words hollow even to your own ears.

He didn’t let you go. He carried you.

You didn’t protest again.

You didn’t go to the Healers. You wouldn’t let him.

Instead, he brought you to his quarters. Silent. Careful. Laid you on the couch and vanished into the kitchenette.

When he came back, he handed you something warm. A broth—simple, unassuming. You didn’t ask how he knew.

You held the cup with shaking fingers.

“I can’t keep pretending I don’t see it,” he said eventually, sitting across from you, elbows on his knees.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t accuse you. He didn’t even ask. He just looked at you with eyes too kind to bear.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked.

You didn’t say anything back. How could you?

Even you didn’t know.

After it became clear you had nothing to say, he crossed the space between you, knelt again, and took the broth from your hands—setting it gently on the table. Then, slowly, deliberately, he wrapped his arms around you.

You froze. Then melted.

He didn’t say anything else.

He just held you.

And for once, you let him.

..

“If she’s eating at all, it’s in secret.”

It echoed in his head as he made his way down the Temple corridor. His steps slower than usual. His thoughts louder.

The next time he saw Ahsoka, he pulled her aside.

“You said she drinks tea in the mornings,” he said. “With what?”

Ahsoka blinked. “I don’t know. Sometimes nothing. Sometimes crackers or a granola thing.”

He nodded slowly.

Ahsoka studied him a moment. “Okay, Master. What are you actually worried about?”

He hesitated. Just long enough for her eyes to narrow.

“She’s been off for a while,” he said finally. “And I don’t think it’s just stress.”

“You think she’s sick?”

“…Maybe. I don’t know.”

Ahsoka folded her arms. “Then ask her.”

“I have. She lies.”

Ahsoka raised an eyebrow again. “And you’re sure it’s food? Not something else?”

He didn’t answer. Because the truth was… he wasn’t sure.

But the weight loss. The loose clothes. The way her steps dragged sometimes. The fact that she barely used her dominant hand in saber drills anymore, like her strength gave out halfway through. The way she disappeared between classes. The paleness. The trembling. The—

He shook his head.

He wasn’t sure.

But he was starting to be.

..

You left the refresher silently. The hallway was empty. Droids hummed in the distance. Temple life moved on around you, untouched.

But as you turned a corner, a shadow peeled away from the wall.

You froze.

Anakin.

His arms were folded, his cloak hanging loose around his frame. His expression unreadable—but sharp. Watchful.

You couldn’t be sure how long he’d been there. He said nothing.

Just looked at you.

You straightened your posture, blinked fast, pretended. “Master Skywalker,” you greeted flatly, voice controlled. Normal. “Did you need something?”

A pause.

His eyes dropped to your hands, your knuckles reddened from where they’d scraped against your teeth. Then your face. Then back again.

Say something, you thought. Call me out. Ask.

He didn’t.

He just nodded once, quiet. “Heading back to your quarters?”

You forced a smile. “Yeah. Long day.”

Another pause.

Then, softly, “Get some sleep.”

You nodded, pulse pounding in your ears. “You too.”

You walked away before he could say anything else. Behind you, he stayed in the shadows a moment longer.

Watching.

Thinking.

You disappeared around the corner, your footsteps soft against the Temple floor.

Anakin didn’t move. Not for a long moment.

He just stood there, jaw tight, arms folded across his chest like that would hold the discomfort in.

He hadn’t meant to see anything. Hadn’t meant to hear what he thought he just heard. He hadn’t been following you. Not exactly.

He just… happened to be there. Noticed the shift. The rushed exit from the dining hall. The delay in the ‘fresher. Too long. Too quiet.

And when you stepped out, you looked—

Not like yourself.

Your color was off. Eyes too bright, but also dull. Your voice too measured, too carefully normal.

And the Force around you—thin. Stretched. He’d felt it before in others. Sometimes after missions. Sometimes after grief.

But this… this wasn’t that.

This was man-made. Brutal, rigid control. The kind that came from desperation, not discipline.

He exhaled through his nose, the gravity of the reality dragging his heart to the depths of hell. Turning back into the quiet hallway, he didn’t yet go after you.

Because what would he even say.

“Did you throw up?”

“Are you starving yourself?”

“What the hell is going on with you?”

You would lie. Of course you would. Anyone would.

And it wasn’t just a hunch anymore, was it? He thought of your hands again, the way they felt smaller, bonier. The looseness of your robes. The way you drifted around people now instead of moving with them. Half-present.

And the hunger in your eyes, not for food—but for something else. Something colder.

Anakin swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair. This wasn’t something he could fix with advice. Or training. Or a teasing comment to break you out of your head.

This was bad. He needed help.

But he didn’t want to betray you either.

He thought of Ahsoka’s voice—“If she’s eating at all, it’s in secret.”

And the part she hadn’t said: That’s not normal.

That’s not safe.

He looked down the hallway you’d taken, long empty now, and clenched his fists once at his sides.

No. This was it. The final straw.

This wouldn’t go on any longer. Not if he had anything to do with it.

..

You walked into the room with half your armor still undone, hair damp with sweat, and a headache pounding behind your eyes. You had run late—your own fault—but you hoped Anakin wouldn’t—

“Where the hell have you been?”

You froze mid-step.

He was already standing in the middle of your quarters like he owned the space, arms crossed, face tight with something way too close to fury.

“I was in the training—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was sharp, slicing through the air. “You weren’t on the schedule. I checked.”

Your stomach flipped.

“You’re seriously tracking me now?” you snapped. “That’s a little obsessive, don’t you think?”

“You wanna talk about obsessive?” He scoffed.

The gnawing hunger, the ringing in your head, the exhaustion that seeped into your very bones—it pushed you to a boiling point. Frustration spiked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” he breathed, hard. Visibly trying—failing—to keep his anger at bay. “It means I’m sick of watching you lie to me every single day!” His voice cracked, raw and furious. “I’m not blind, okay? You barely eat, you look like you’re about to collapse half the time, and you keep telling me you’re fine. You’re not fine, and I’m done pretending like I don’t see it.”

“You’re being dramatic. There’s nothing—”

“I heard you.”

You froze.

His voice was low. Barely controlled. Dangerous. His glare was so intense it took everything in you not to flinch.

“I heard you,” he motioned with a shaking hand, as if to steady himself. “In—in the refresher. I heard what you… were doing,” he said, swallowing like it physically hurt to admit.

You were caught. Like an animal in a trap. The emptiness scraping at your insides fogged up your brain until all you could do was bite and bark like a wounded dog.

Your jaw clenched. “You have no right—”

“I have every right!” he roared. “Because you won’t talk to me! Because you won’t even look at me when I ask what the hell is going on!”

You turned away. “It’s none of your business.”

“I’m your best friend!” he shouted. “Of course it’s my business!”

“No,” you said, spinning on him. “You don’t get to use that card. Being my best friend doesn’t mean you get to police my life!”

“I’m not policing you—I’m trying to keep you alive!”

The room was spinning now. You didn’t have the energy to fight like this. But that didn’t stop you.

“Maybe I didn’t ask for that!” you snapped. “Maybe I don’t want your help!”

He stared at you like you’d slapped him. And maybe you had—not physically, but something worse. His jaw worked soundlessly for a second before he stepped back.

“You’d rather kill yourself slowly than let anyone care about you. That it?”

“Better than being pitied,” you spat.

He looked like you’d stabbed him. “You think this is pity?”

You laughed. Dry. Empty. “I think you like having a project. A broken little thing you can fix. Makes you feel needed.”

Nononono—everything was coming out wrong. You didn’t know what words you were spewing anymore, but Maker, you just couldn’t stop.

“Screw you,” he hissed. “You think this is about me? You think watching you destroy yourself has been easy? Every time you lie to my face, every time you pretend everything’s fine when you’re literally wasting away—you think I like this?”

“Then leave!” you yelled, voice cracking. “No one’s making you stay!”

“I stay because I care!” he screamed. “Because I love you, and I don’t know how to not care!”

The words hit the silence like a bomb.

You stared at him, breath gone.

He looked horrified the second they were out. Like he hadn’t meant to say it. Or hadn’t meant to say it like that.

“What…?” You broke the silence, voice smaller than you’d ever felt.

All Anakin could do was look at you, chest heaving.

“You’re not eating,” he said quietly—almost defeated. “You run yourself into the ground. You pass out and pretend it didn’t happen. You’ve lost weight and think no one notices. I do. I see you.”

Your chest tightened like a noose.

“And I don’t know what scares me more,” he continued, voice low. “The fact that you’re doing this to yourself… or the fact that you think I wouldn’t care.”

There was a brief pause.

“I didn’t want you to care like this,” you whispered, voice suddenly high and brittle. “Because it’s embarrassing, Anakin. I’m not proud of this. I didn’t want you to look at me and see—this.”

“What?” he asked, stepping forward. “See you struggling? See you human?”

You looked away, jaw trembling.

“You don’t have to be perfect around me,” he said, softer now. “You never had to be. I didn’t sign up to be your friend just when it’s easy.”

You said nothing. Couldn’t. The room swam a little.

He stepped closer. Not touching you. Not pushing. Just there.

“Talk to me,” he said again. “Yell. Scream. Cry. I don’t care. Just don’t shut me out.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. One breath. Two.

And finally, voice breaking: “I don’t know how to stop.”

There it was.

He exhaled, slow and deep, like something in him had finally released.

“Then let me help you figure it out,” he said. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

You didn’t answer. But when he reached out—slowly, gently—and pulled you into a hug, you didn’t pull away either.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Anakin swipe away a stray tear.

“You… love me?” you asked after a short while of just standing there like that, not daring to look up from where your face was pressed into his neck.

His embrace tightened, his flesh hand resting on your head, holding it to him like letting go might break him too.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

And the way his voice cracked—like the words had splintered something deep inside—was what undid you completely.

“Yeah, I do.”

-

Neither of you moved.

Not at first.

You stayed pressed into him like the breath had been knocked from your lungs—his chest rising and falling against yours, slow and steady, like he was trying to lend you the rhythm of his own body. An anchor.

“I didn’t want you to care like this,” you said again, quietly this time. Not sharp. Not defensive. Just real.

“I know,” Anakin murmured. His hand was still on the back of your head, fingers brushing the curve of your skull. “But I do. I care this much whether you want me to or not.”

You let out a slow breath against his collarbone. It felt like the first real one in days. Maybe weeks.

“It’s hard,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I don’t eat because I feel like I don’t deserve to,” you admitted, eyes unfocused, staring at nothing. “And then I do eat, and I feel disgusting. Like I failed at something I can’t even name.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just listened. That was new. You weren’t used to people hearing the words and not rushing to patch them up, to fix, to lecture. But not Anakin.

“You didn’t fail anything,” he said eventually, his voice low, even. “You’ve been surviving. That’s not failure.”

You blinked, and for some reason, that nearly made you cry all over again.

“It’s just always there,” you said, barely getting the words out. “The noise. The shame. I hate it. I hate me.”

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, his hand shifting to your jaw. “Don’t you dare say that.”

“I’m not trying to be dramatic—”

“You’re not,” he said. “But you don’t get to hate yourself in front of me. I won’t allow it.”

A broken little sound caught in your throat. You looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time since you walked in. And what you saw wasn’t pity. It wasn’t anger anymore, either.

It was love. It was love.

He meant it.

He meant all of it.

You shook your head, more from disbelief than disagreement. “You’re not supposed to love me when I’m like this.”

“I think I’ve only ever loved you like this,” he said, voice soft but sure. “Not in spite of the pain. But because I know it. I know you. And I still love you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was full—but not crushing. Like something sacred was taking shape between you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Anakin leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “Me too.”

You closed your eyes.

And somehow, that didn’t feel like the end of the world. Somehow, you weren’t alone in it anymore.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he said again. “You don’t have to be fixed. You just have to stay.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic. Holding him there. Holding yourself there.

“I can try,” you whispered.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

And when he kissed your temple, so gently you barely felt it, you realized something else.

You were tired. Yes.

Still scared. Yes.

Still hurt in places no one could see.

But maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to keep carrying it alone.

Not anymore.

And when he held you like that, with no demand, no pressure, just presence, you finally let yourself believe it.

You finally let yourself rest.

a/n: very self indulgent, very rushed pls forgive me 🙏🏽

[invincibledc]

|| WHEN UNCLE!READER GETS SICK AND THE BATBOYS HEAR ABOUT IT ||

Coughing, sneezing, raspy voice, achy body. Oh dear, you got a cold. Shaking like a damn leaf on a windy day, you called your brother. Bruce immediately picks up the phone, you knew he was in the bat cave. Hearing the bat-computer keys and talking. You could only roll your eyes as you talked to him. “Can’t make it. I’m sick” you said. He responded it with a “sick? Stay home. I’ll send Alfred to make you some soup Y/N.” You could only nod before coughing a storm up. If you could see your brother now, he would be frowning with concern.

“It’s not….deadly is it?” “What?! Bruce, no. It’s a cold. Yknow how I get.” You said closing your eyes about to hang up and rest. Bruce only sighed for the other side of the phone. “Alright.” “And Bruce.” “Yeah?” “DONT let the boys know I’m sick. Yknow how they get when I’m sick…” sadly they found out. You didn’t know how or when. But of course you knew who found out first.

Tim found out first, first because you didn’t show to the manor on the daily time you always do. Tim notice Alfred picking up your favorite soup you eat when sick when you use to live here at the manor when he was Robin. Tim frowned, you’re sick. You’re sick, alone, withering away in bed. What kind of nephew would he be if his dear uncle is not with company. So with that, he grabbed some doctor gloves, a face mask, hand sanitizer and Lysol. He was prepared. When Alfred went away to secure the packed soup, Tim took the packed up soup and ran out the door to drive to your house.

Jason surprisingly was the second to find out. He lives with you, like a roommate kinda of thing? So why in the world would he be second? Because he was too busy bleeding out in the manor after a fight and he had to stay in the same manor over night before you had gotten sick. Jason had seen Tim run out the door when he came down the stairs. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he also sen that the packed soup was the kind of soup you ate only if you were sick or terribly hungry. But since he knew you weren’t in the manor, he went with the former and immediately dressed up to go see his sick uncle.

Damian, he always knows when something is going on. But he definitely knows when something is going on when he sees his two brothers leave the manor. “Uncle’s sick Titus. Drake has his favorite soup and Todd has his favorite book. Pathetic, they forgot uncle’s heated up blanket.” Damian says with a smirk. Certainly holding it as Titus barks at his owner. “Guess we will pay my uncle a visit, I’ll see you later.” The brown skinned boy said as he pats his beloved dog. Leaving the manor with a shortcut to your house.

Dick was last, and was mad knowing that no one informed him that you were sick! Like cmon, he’s the first Robin and he had more of a bond with you when he was little! So how could his brothers leave him in the dust like that! He immediately got off work and speeded over to your house. He got some of your snacks, a “get well soon” card. And just some flowers, it was perfect. Perfect for the “favorite” nephew of course.

Tim was first at your door and entered using a copy of your spare key, then Jason shoulder rushed Tim like a football player, Damian was going through your window, and dick…dick just stood there watching his little brothers cause havoc. The soup was saved by Damian sliding to catch it, Tim almost had a heart attack as Jason just glares at all the brothers in his “home.”

Damian smirks, ready to get the “best nephew” award by handing you the soup you desire when sick. That was before Jason picked him like a stray cat. “What the hell you’re doing here demon?” “I’m just doing what needs to be done. Helping uncle.” Damian says with a glare. Dick takes Damian out of Jason’s bear grip and then helps Tim up. “Well, arguing isn’t going to help. Let’s just see how unc is doing guys.” All the boys nod in agreement, going inside your room. Tim still looks like a doctor so he was the last one in.

You were surprised, very surprised to see all four of your brother’s kids and your nephews at your house smiling as if they didn’t just break in. You heard them, but you thought you were just hallucinating. Damian gave you the still hot and ready soup on your night stand and your blanket. He wanted to get on your bed and lay with you, but you shook your head no. Not wanting to get him sick. Jason just sat down in a chair you have in your room, watching you closely like a hawk in case something happens. Tim was taking your temperature, asking you about the medicine you have taken. Basically a worried baby worried for his poor “old” uncle. Dick just lays the basket of things he bought for you. Smirking as he made a comment about how he is obviously the “favorite” nephew. That made everyone mad, cue to loud arguing and Damian ready to jump his brother.

As much as the boys loved you, they acted as if you were on your death bed. Which made you kinda mad, but at least they care for you a lot. But the constant arguing was not helping you as headaches started to attack. You coughed loudly as you felt your eyes droop more. You hated being sick, but you mostly hated your peace being ruined.

“Out! Out now!” You yelled with a raspy voice, all the boys stop. Frowning before leaving, except for Jason who stood there with crossed arms. “I live here unc…” you glare before throwing a box of tissues at your buffed up nephew who didn’t seem phased at all. “Not as of now mister, you stay at the manor or whatever you go until I get better.” Jason stayed silent before leaving. Not before putting a bottled up medicine by your bed, with a small note that says “get better.”

[4drianaaaa]

"i think i like u"

Hamzahthefantastic x influencerreader! ⚠: fluff, cat-calling, lengthy (?), smut! wrd count: 2.7k

part 5 | navi

-

yourusername

: this dress will not stay on if u w a freak 🥴

_

user34343: omfg...

anon39932: the last slide so real

clairedrakee: beauty like none other

mandys_iphone: best b-day gift ever ↳ yourusername: kiss me

hamzahthefantastic: they're pierced?! ↳ yourusername: please tell me they're nice! ;( ↳ hamzahthefantastic: i love them [liked by creator] ↳ user456396: !?

aldo2swag: hi

larray: clit piercings next!

-

you blushed as you set your phone down after reading what Hamzah had sent you. You and Hamzah have been seeing each other for weeks already. The two of you would hang out at each others houses or just out and about. Still, you guys didn't have a specific label on yourselves.

You finished your makeup as you grabbed a purple flower claw clip and held your hair half way up. You applied a soft matte lipstick and changed into some blue low rise jeans and a white small crop top. Besides moving to Canada and meeting these new people, you still itched to change your life a little. What better idea to get your nipples pierced! You finished getting ready as you swopped a red bag onto your shoulder preparing your self for the pain you were gonna be put through right now.

You closed your car door shut as you were on your way to the tattoo shop. The closer you got, the more hotter your body temperature grew. You took the last sip of your Iced coffee and headed inside the shop. "Hey hun! Are you here with an appointment!" A fully tatted woman approached you. You nodded, "Yes! For y/n?" You questioned as her eyes scanned the computer on the front desk. "Yes I have you here! Alright are you ready?" You questioned as you nodded. She took you to a private room as you sat down on one of the high chairs in the room. You took a deep breath as she sanitized the metal. "Is this your first piercing?" She questioned as you shook your head. "This is my first!" You grinned as she slapped some gloves on. "Okay, just make sure to wear thin material clothing, Be careful on getting the jewelry caught on clothes, and clean then daily!" She explained as she walked over to you with a tray. "Go ahead and lift your top for me!" she said as she had the needle in one hand and the clamp on the other. You lifted your shirt up as you felt the cold air hit your exposed chest. You felt the sharp pain of the needle go through your nipples as you looked down to see the Jewelry already set.

"Oh wow that was quick!" You gasped as she smiled and handed you a mirror. You could just jump up and down. "Oh my gosh! Thank you so much!" You shrieked "Of course!" She smiled handing you a bag with a piercing solution.

You slammed the door shut as you were on your way back home. Arriving home you texted Hamzah to reassure him if he was still down to go out.

You changed into a more thin top as you waited for Hamzah to get here. You couldn't stop looking at the mirror. You took multiple pictures. You suddenly heard a knock on your door. You panicked and threw a hoodie over. You opened the door as Hamzah scanned your body. "Did you get a tattoo?" He questioned as he took your hand as you shook your head. "Okay- wait come inside!" You pulled him into your house as he closed the door behind him. "Okay, I was super itchy for a little different and I was scrolling on tiktok and that's what inspired me.." You said nervously, "Okayyyy" he dragged his word as you whipped your hair back. You slowly draped off the zip-up as the thin top revealed your freshly pierced nipples. His eyes glued to your chest as he threw his hand over you his mouth. "Oh my god.." He said cheesing behind his hands. "What do you think?" you asked as you turned to the mirror in your living room. "They honestly suit you" he said looking at you through the mirror. "Alright well that's it, let's get going now." You swooped your purse over your shoulder as he lifted his eyebrow. "Wait you can just show them?" Hamzah questioned as you giggled "Yes I can show them! Why wouldn't I?" You said checking your self out in the mirror. "Um- Okay, let’s go I guess" he said as his face was burning hot.

You finally made it to the crowded mall as you and Hamzah were In Aritzia looking for clothes for Mandy. You looked through dresses as you saw one that caught your eye, It was a silky back open grey dress as you ran to Hamzah. "This is the one!" You held the dress as he nodded "Do you think Mandy will like it?" He questioned "Are you serious? She'll love it!" You said looking through more dresses.

"Anything you like?" Hamzah questioned as you saw a dress that caught your eyes. "Oh wow!" Hamzah said as you pulled the dress out. It was a long black dress that was see through and different patterns. "Oh my god, I love this..." You said scanning your fingers through the different textures. "Take it" He said grabbing both dresses from you as you kept looking through tops and pants.

"Alright this is it" you said grabbing the dresses and skirts and bringing them over your shoulder. You walked to the register as you placed the clothes on the table. "Wait, I'll pay." He said pulling his card out. You shoved his hand down as he quickly tapped his card against the machine , "Hamzah!" You gasped as the lady handed you the bag, "Your welcome!" He grabbed the bag from you as he held your hand and walked out of the store. "Why would you do that?” You huffed “because why would I make you pay? Haven’t I already told you? What else do you want?” He looked all over the mall as you pointed to a record store.

Your fingers scanned through the vinyls, Hamzah couldn’t help but look at your red thong peeking out your pants as his cheeks were a soft pink.

“Are you guys looking for something in particular?” A voice came from behind him. “Uh nah, just looking.” Hamzah replied as the guy looked over to you, also checking the view out. “A fucking show…” the man licked his lips. Hamzah furrowed his eyebrows as a burning anger grew inside him. “What the fuck? You’re fucking weird bro. Get the fuck out my face dude.” Hamzah hissed as he grabbed your arm and made you storm out the store, “what-“ “this fucking dude kept staring at you, cmon” he huffed. “Just uh, look for another store baby” he said lowly as his arm wrapped around you. “Oh okay..” you replied.

“Hamzah, you probably spent hundreds! Just let me send it back!” You crossed your arms as he closed the door for you, “no y/n! It’s okay!” He turned to you as he placed his hand on your thigh. Hamzah had brought you to his house just to wrap Mandy’s gift and just to have your company he missed. Both arrived to his house as It was Just the cats waiting at the door. "Wow, you finally cleaned?" You teased as he rolled his eyes playfully "yeah, yeah whatever" he said placing your bags down on the couch. You took the box in where Mandy's dress was at as Hamzah handed you some wrapping paper, "I only have this one, I think It's fine right?" He said handing you blue paper. You perfectly wrapped around the box as you even decided to make a bow out of remaining scraps.

"Oh wow, it's perfect!" He took the gift placing it on the coffee table. He wrote his name down, You reached for your dress pulling it out of the bag. You were In love. You traced over the patterns as you imagined when and where you would wear. "Ya' like it?" He questioned as he closed the sharpie. You nodded placing it out on the couch, a sly smile creeped on your face. "I'm gonna try it on, If that's okay!" You looked over at Hamzah. His face blank, He looked down at the see through fabric. "Uh, yeah sure..." He cleared his throat as you yelped and ran to his room. He definitely thought you were gonna show him but he doubted it.

You carefully pulled off your shirt and pants as you slipped on the thin dress. You looked at the tall mirror as your body complimented the dress so well, as well as your new piercings. You decided to walk out and show Hamzah. That was the whole point anyways.

"Hamzah!" You sang as licked his lips. You peeked behind the living room as he turned towards you. You walked out fully and spun around to give him a full 360. His eyes fluttered scanning throughout your whole body. Eyes focusing more on your exposed boobs. You fixed your hair brining it to the front as your laced black panties hugged your ass so perfectly. "It's so nice" he said not taking his eyes off you at all. "It's so comfy honestly! Look feel it!" You said getting closer to Hamzah, Placing his hand on your waist. His fingers pinching the fabric as his pants seemed to be getting tighter. "Fuck, you look so good y/n..." He huffed as he couldn't help but grab your waist as your hands met his shoulders and touched his hair, "How will I ever thank you, hm?" You said lowly as his puppy eyes looked up at you and your perked up tits. "Show me how thankful you are then.." He groaned as you sat down on his lap. Face to face, "Your such a tease y/n." His hands cupped your ass as you yelped due to his needy grip. His lips grazed over yours as his lips crashed into yours. Your hands cupped his face. His tongue picking every taste from your mouth. Your face tilted as his hands roamed to your waist. "m'please- fuck, y/n...Need you..." He grunted in between kisses as you tugged at his shirt. Your lips parted as he swiped his shirt off. Your eyes sparkled, The gym was doing him justice.

"So- sexy." You groaned out as his lips trailed to your exposed neck. His hands were placed on your thigh. Your dress started to slip up to your waist exposing your red panties Hamzah has had his eyes on all night.

"Can I- off?" He said tugging your dress as your lips parted. You slowly slipped your dress off over your head, your tits were fully exposed as he practically drooled. His lips trailed down your neck as his hands were gripping your upper torso. You slowly began grinding on his crotch. The closer his mouth got to your perked tits the more you whined. His mouth carefully began sucking around your tits as you threw your head back trying your best not to be noisy. You couldn’t notice your self practically bouncing on him. You needed all of him already.

“Hamzah please! I want you!” You whimpered as he groaned, “m’kay” he huffed as he tapped your thigh, getting off his lap and helping him unbuckle his jeans. You were so needy your lips crashed into his again as you were on all floors next to him. You moaned in his mouth as his pants dropped at his ankles. Your hands rubbed against the huge tent upon his boxers. His hand sharply slapped your ass as your moan echoed in his mouth. Your hands shoved his boxers down aching for his cock that suddenly hit his stomach. Your hands wasted no time but slowly pumping his cock up and down slowly as his hips bucked suddenly. “Please y/n!” He whined as you slowly sat down on his lap. He moved your panties to the side as his tip of his cock rubbed against your pussy. You didn’t care how loud you were anymore. You just wanted Hamzah. He aligned himself to your entrance as you gasped. “Fuck your so tight-..” he grunted as you whined in his ear. He slowly pushed you down his length as his cock twitched in you. You began going up and down his member as his hands were glued to your waist following your motion. His hands slid down your ass firmly gripping on it. Your pace grew as you were fully wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck you feel so good baby” he whimpered as he slowly sucked on your tits again. You moaned in his ear as his hands traveled through your whole body.

Your hands gripped on his shoulders as your pace quickened, suddenly.

bzz, bzz, bzz.

Your heart stopped as you noticed Mandy was calling you. You stopped completely as Hamzah grunted. “Fuck..” you hissed as he whispered in your ear; “you better answer it.” He handed you the phone as he swiped across the phone. Your eyes widened suddenly as you snatched the phone from him.

“Y/n! Oh my gosh I need help.” Mandy asked through the phone as you exhaled. “Oh! Um, with what?” You asked. Hamzah’s hands slowly moved you up and down his cock again inpatient about you getting off the phone.

“Okay so I have this dress I wanna wear to the little birthday dinner we’re having tomorrow but I kinda wanna save it for Mexico!” She explained as Hamzah’s thumb rubbed against your clit. You bit your lip as you whined. “Mm- I…Fuck, I say Mexico!” You huffed as he smirked. “Are you okay?” Mandy questioned as Hamzah started slamming into you. Your hand gripped the phone and his shoulder so hard you practically left dents. You leaned over his shoulder trying not the expose the sudden slapping noise.

“Yeah! I’mmmm- im so good!” Your hand flew over your mouth as his cock went In and out if you. “Oh!- Mandy I gotta-.” Was all you said before ending the call urgently as you cried out his name. “Hamzah! Fuck!” You cried out loud as you felt yourself come all over his cock, “M’yes- fuck so good doll!” He grunted as your body folded against his as he slammed sloppier and faster into you. “So close, wait for me baby!” He moaned as he gripped your waist. You felt his warm cum spill fill you up as he groaned. You sat up as your lips met his. “You did so good baby-m” he said in between kisses. He picked you up from his lap as his cock sprung out of you as it ached. “Are you good?” He chuckled as you sighed, “I feel sore…” you whined as kissed your cheek placing you beside him. “I gotta a bath for two if your down?” He smirked as you nodded putting his t shirt on. “Hamzah- can you help?” You sighed as he giggled “are you serious?” He teased as you rolled your eyes “please! It’s not funny.” You pushed him as he grabbed you taking you to the bathroom.

You pulled his shirt off slowly as you slowly sunk down in the bathtub. He quickly joined you as you were In between his legs as bubbles floated around the warm water.

“I wish I could have gave you a try on haul” you sighed as your fingers hovered over the bubbles. “I thought you weren’t gonna show me in the fist place since the dress was see through” he chuckled, “I thought it was nice since you I was able to show my piercing! But it seemed like someone liked them a little too much..” you teased as he wrapped his arms around your waist tugging on you. “What can I say.” He smirked as he kissed your exposed neck.

There was a huge boundary holding you from asking the forbidden question. The “what are we” questioned. You seemed so deeply aware that you were 100% in love with him and so was he. Though. You had that restrain having you in choke hold.

You slipped In one of Hamzah's Pajama pants he had gave you and T-shirt. You climbed onto the bed with Hamzah as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You smiled as your eyes were quick to become heavy. You were quickly drifted to sleep. Hamzah looked down at you as your eyes were softly shut. He's never ever been with anyone like you, ever. He loved everything about you. He moved your hair behind your ear kissing your cheek softly.

"love you".

-

adri's note: "yes smut" we all say in unison (I'm we), Also not spell-checked...

[evilbirdy]

hello :D

i’d like to request a fic with se-mi with a piercer!fem!reader who does se-mi’s piercings and they like totally flirt with each other during the whole process

it’s no rush at all and if you don’t want to write it that’s ok too! thanks :))

feels like a pinch

now playing - kiss it better

Se-mi x fem! reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“hey Se-Mi, welcome back,” you smiled to your favorite client. Se-mi walked up to the counter. “I was hoping you were available for me,” She said, you chuckled inside your head at her trying to keep her cool. You have already read through her brave personality when Se-mi came to get her first piercing. You swear the girl could have passed out on you.

“Of course, I actually have an opening right now, my client just canceled, what are you thinking of getting today?” you looked through your planner, you actually never had a client for that time, it was your lunch break but you have actually grown a liking to the girl and would feel stupid to turn down time around her.

“I uhh was thinking a lip piercing..right here,” she points to the center of her bottom lip. “Alright alright cool cool, come with me to my station,” you picked up some of your things and walked to your piercing station with Se-mi trailing behind.

What you didn’t notice was Se-Mi admiring you from behind, you were so beautiful to her, she loved how focus your eyes get, the way you always tie your hair up keeping it out of your face, the way your nose piercing shines when your nose scrunches, how fluid your hands move.

You grab the tool to sanitize them and wipe everything down. When the tools were ready, you came back to see Se-mi leg bouncing. You smiled sweetly and take her hand. “I’ll be quick okay, it will feel like pinch,” you winked at her causing her to chuckle and nod.

You mark the spot and asked her if the placement is good, she agrees and you start piercing. Like you promised, it went quick, Se-mi slightly squinted at the feeling but that was all.

“Okay, this card, I’m putting in here is how you clean it and take care of it, you must not use chapstick for 8 weeks okay, and you have my number so if there is something with it tell me,” you explained in a strict like tone.

Se-mi thought a bit before going for it, “what would you do..kiss it better,” you looked up at her in slight shock. She tried to double down until she heard your giggle.

“Oh Se-mi was that you flirting with me,” you laugh. Se-Mi smirked and glances down to look back up at you again. “I know I know, not my best work but can you blame me for trying?”.

You smiled, your heart races, you played with your piercing a bit before responding.

“how does 7 pm this Friday sound?”

Im back loves, had to get back in my groove but I’m back

[super-ion]

Oh, hello! Welcome!

I take it this is your first time out in the deep black?

Oh no, no need to get defensive about it, Everyone has to start somewhere. We get many travelers paying tribute at our little church here. You've got the look of someone who's never been beyond low orbit. I'm guessing one of the third wave colonies?

(It's the implants. Secondwave culture is a bit more uptight about them and you don't look like you're trying to rebel)

You're wondering why we have valuable real estate set aside for a shrine of all things?

You're wondering what sort of god spacers worship?

Do you know what a god is? I'll tell you. A god is an idea given life.

So what's the idea that keeps us flying?

Most folk born planetside might think the god of spaceflight is all fire and noise. Nah. Any moron with enough money and explosives can build a rocket.

No, the idea that keeps us going out here is faith that ask these tiny little pressure vessels will hold together and find their way through the black.

Back in the ancient days, back before thinking machines and all that, the very first leaps off the ground were guided by computers that were hand made. I shit you not, little old ladies hand sewed the memory together.

Huh…? No, I mean like, hard coded read only memory, literal ones and zeros locked into magnets and wire.

That's my point though. Our god began life as the god of seamstresses. She's the god of sewing and weaving. She's older than civilization and she's gone by many names in many cultures.

Yeah, no, of course we don't hand sew our computers, that lasted all of like a decade. Hell, textile work itself went totally automated not long after. Point is she took men into space and brought them home safely. That sorta thing leaves a mark on a god. It changes them.

A ship. A station. A fleet. They're all systems. People and life support and sensors and actuators and control loops. It's all a web, a giant fucking tapestry of connections and she's the master weaver at the center.

But of course the web is massive, and she isn't literally weaving shit. She's all of the maintenance. Corrective and preventive. So it falls on all of us, the pilots, the mechanics, the algae farmers, the sanitation workers, everyone. We're the sewers and weavers. We're the ones patching and mending the tapestry. We're the ones adding to it constantly.

So that's what the shrine is for. That's the religion in out here in the black. Deep space is a bitch, and all we have to count on is the ship and the crew. She reminds us of that.

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

005 ┆ go on without me (0.7k words)

“You both can start with the downstairs classrooms.” Mr. G said, handing them their cleaning supplies.

“Tables should be sprayed with the yellow spray, wiped down, then spray the red on top as a sanitizer. Sweeping is the same as usual as well as mopping. Please don’t make a mess, I’ll be back every five to ten minutes.”

Both of you nodded at his instructions, leaving Mr. G with a smile as he took off.

To be honest, you weren’t the biggest fan of cleaning. At least, not in a public school. It would be best to start off with the easiest task, right?

You reached out for the broomstick, but a hand beat you to it. In anger, you looked up at Jungwon and grabbed the broomstick from him.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his grip never faltering.

“Taking the broomstick from you, I want to sweep.”

“Too bad, I grabbed it first. Go find something else, weirdo.”

You were taken aback by his insulting word as he yanked the broomstick out of your hold.

Your brows furrowed at the sight while you grabbed the nearest spray bottle you could find and sprayed it on his back.

Jungwon paused in his tracks at the sudden wetness, turning around slowly.

“What was that?” He asked but you looked at him dumbfounded.

“What was what?” You questioned back and went on with your way.

You began wiping down the desks with whatever spray bottle you grabbed from earlier while Jungwon glared at you.

God, he hated you so much.

A few minutes of an intense silence went by as you two minded your business with each other and cleaned away.

If anything, you wanted to leave and go home faster. The amount of times you accidentally touched chewed up gum underneath the tables was slowly becoming your last straw.

“You’re terrible at wiping down desks.” Jungwon said, his voice coming out of nowhere.

You looked over at him with a scowl.

“As if you could do any better. Your sweeping skills are horrendous. Look at that!” You exclaimed while pointing at the dust pile he left behind.

“Seriously, do you even clean at home?”

“I sure do. Obviously you don’t, if you can’t even tell that I’m not done sweeping.” He gestured at the broom in his hand and the dust pile he was creating to sweep everything up at once.

“You’re seriously so stupid.”

“Hey. I can hear you guys arguing from down the hall.” Mr. G said from the doorframe.

The two of you turned around like deers caught in headlights, not wanting to hear his next words.

“He started it! I wasn’t even doing anything to him.”

“You literally sprayed my back with something? What do you mean I started it?” Jungwon looked at you in disbelief. There was no way you forgot about all of that.

“Yes, because you called me a weirdo and stole the broomstick from me. You’re so annoying.”

“Oh yeah? I can say the same thing about you too.”

Mr. G walked up to the both of you, his footsteps silencing your bickering.

“Well, you know what will be more annoying?” He questioned as you two stared back at him blankly.

“Working together on the yearbook. Goodluck.” He smiled at you both and left the classroom.

You and Jungwon were quiet. You forgot all about the punishment if you two argued.

Shit.

“I hope you know this is all your fault. You and your loud mouth can never keep quiet.” You insulted before moving onto the next desk.

“We’re both in trouble. Of course, the only thing you know how to do well is put the blame on others.” He said while sweeping the dust pile onto the dustpan.

“Can’t you just shut—”

“Hey! I can still hear you guys! Arguing won’t get you nowhere in life, you’re still going to help the yearbook club anyways!” Mr. G yelled from the next classroom, leaving you both stunned

He wasn’t wrong though, even with how much more Jungwon ticked you off, arguing wouldn’t help the fact you both had to work together in the end.

Seriously, what did you do in your past life to deserve any of this?

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @kxppachu @ancnymcnzjy

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @samyria @stvrriki

© JUYEOZ

[meazalykov]

heart on our skin

lynn wilms x reader

people say don't get matching tattoos with your partner, but you guys do not listen

a quiet saturday morning in wolfsburg, you stretch out on the couch, watching lynn pace the living room in one of your hoodies that she’s claimed as her own, the sleeves dangling past her hands. 

she’s scrolling through her phone, the faintest crease on her brow as she squints at the screen.

“so,” she starts, breaking the silence, “you still sure about this tattoo thing?”

you glance up from your own phone, smiling softly. 

“of course. why? are you chickening out?”

she scoffs, though her lips twitch into a grin. 

“me? never. i just wanted to make sure you’re not chickening out. it’s kind of a big deal, you know. i have many, many, tattoos.. you do not have a single one.”

“oh, i know,” you tease, leaning back against the cushions. 

“but i’m not scared. besides, if we’ve survived five years of long distance and everything else, i think we can handle a tiny tattoo.”

lynn chuckles and moves to sit next to you, draping an arm over the back of the couch. 

“you’re right. we’ve been through way worse but still… i want it to mean something, you know? not just a random design.”

“it already does mean something,” you reply, turning to face her fully. 

“it’s us. we are in love and we’re always connected. always.”

lynn’s gaze softens, and she leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“you’re such a simp, you know that?”

“yeah, and well, you know you love it,” you shoot back, grinning as she laughs.

the tattoo parlor is cozy and welcoming, tucked away on a quiet street in wolfsburg. the artist, a friendly woman with a half sleeve of intricate florals, chats with you both as she preps her station. 

she's done a few of lynn’s tattoos before, some of the ones on her arms. 

you and lynn show her the design.. a simple, delicate heart.. and explain where you each want it placed.

“so, why the wrist and collarbone?” the artist asks as she sanitizes the equipment.

lynn shrugs, glancing at you with a small smile. 

“we wanted it to feel like it’s always with us. my wrist because it’s something i’ll see all the time, and her collarbone because it’s close to her heart.”

“wait we didn’t discuss that,” you tease.

“..and you call me the simp!”

“well we have to give it some meaning, love.” lynn smirks.

you feel your cheeks flush at her words, but you don’t deny them. the artist smiles knowingly and gestures for lynn to sit first. you hold her free hand as the needle hums to life, watching as the tiny heart takes shape on her wrist. 

lynn doesn’t flinch, though her fingers squeeze yours briefly when the needle touches her skin.

when it’s your turn, lynn stands beside you, her thumb brushing soothing circles over the back of your hand. the buzz of the needle feels like a dull vibration against your collarbone, and you try to focus on lynn’s calm presence instead of the slight sting.

for your first tattoo, it just feels like a cat scratch. 

“you’re doing great,” she murmurs, her voice low and steady. 

“just a little longer.”

you glance up at her, her green eyes full of affection and pride. 

“thanks, nurse lynn. you’re so reassuring.”

she laughs, her hand playfully ruffling your hair. 

“anytime.”

a week later, you’re back in manchester, unpacking your things after a whirlwind weekend in wolfsburg. the fresh tattoo feels like a secret treasure, hidden under your cotton blue shirt but constantly on your mind. 

you can’t stop running your fingers over it, well whenever your fingers are cleaned of course… the raised edges of the healing skin are a tangible reminder of lynn.

you don’t plan to post about it, but later that evening, you’re lounging at home and scrolling through your camera roll when you stumble upon a few pictures lynn took of you before you left. one of them…a candid shot of you laughing, your hand brushing your collarbone…catches your eye. 

the tattoo is barely visible, just peeking out from under the neckline of your shirt. you hesitate for a moment before uploading it to instagram with a simple caption: 

missing wolfsburg already.

the reaction is almost instant. fans flood the comments, obsessing over the tattoo. some of them notice the resemblance to lynn’s wrist tattoo from a photo she posted earlier in the week. 

theories start swirling, and within hours, people have pieced it together.

the next day at training, jill is the first to bring it up. she corners you in the locker room, grinning like she’s just uncovered the world’s greatest secret.

“so,” she begins, leaning against the locker next to yours, “you and lynn got matching tattoos, huh?”

you glance at her, feigning nonchalance. 

“what are you talking about?”

the dutch woman scoffs, pulling out her phone and shoving it in your face. there, on the screen, is a side-by-side comparison of your tattoo and lynn’s, courtesy of an overly enthusiastic fan account on twitter. 

“this. care to explain?”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. 

“it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.”

“are you kidding?” jill laughs, clapping you on the back. 

“this is huge!! matching tattoos are, like, the ultimate relationship flex. you two are adorable, it makes me sick sometimes.”

“shut up,” you mumble, though you’re smiling. 

“you and jana have matching tattoos too, remember?”

“yeah, but i didn’t try to keep them a secret,” she shoots back, grinning mischievously. 

“you’re the one who posted it and thought no one would notice. rookie mistake.”

you roll your eyes, unable to help the laugh that escapes. 

“okay, fine, you caught me. happy?”

“very,” she says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. 

masterlist

[arachnidseyes]

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

BLOOD AND CHANGE

Damian Wayne x Constantine! Reader

A/N: Damian stitches up a wounded Constantine. They're like 18-19, Fem reader, Alfred's alive wdym haha?

Damian's eyes are open before the second rap on the doors to his balcony.

The katana he keeps under his bed is in his hands by the third. He stalks closer on quiet feet like the assassin he's trained to be.

Who could possibly have evaded the manor's security systems, scaled the wall to his bedroom, all while not alerting any of the vigilantes living inside.

No matter. He's Damian Wayne. He can handle anything.

His hand pauses on the door handle before violently throwing them open...

And there you are, slumped on the stone railing, covered in blood, clutching your torso where the white dress shirt is dripping red.

You give him a tired grin, shooting a finger gun at him (with the hand not clutching your bloody wound)

“What's cooking, good looking?”

Damian lowers is katana and clicks his tongue,

“Constantine.”

His eyes never leave your wound, assessing just how bad the damage could be. He can smell the iron from where he stands. It's been awhile since he's seen you.

“Are we just gonna stare longingly at each other or are you going to let me in?”

He clicks his tongue again but steps aside so you can gracefully stumble inside his room.

“I will get Pennyworth, he-”

You swiftly interrupt him,

“What, you can't do it yourself? I heard you wanted to be a doctor or something.”

“How did you-”

He stops himself, some magic bullshit probably.

“That doesn't mean I'll just- ”

You interrupt him again,

“I can't heal it myself Damian, I spent all my energy just getting here so you could heal it. Letting a patient bleed out isn't a very good way to start your whole doctor thing.”

You hiss as you sit down on his too-big bed while Damian walks off to his bathroom, muttering curses in a language you understand better than he knows.

─⋅⋆⁺.

The wound looks much worse in the harsh light of the desk lamp Damian’s forcing you to hold at a very specific angle. You lie at the foot of his bed, brown coat discarded, bottom buttons of your dress shirt unbuttoned up your torso, just enough for him to do his work.

He kneels at the end of the bed, emergency med kit next to him. He's still grumbling as he preps the needle while you help sanitize the bloody area.

“So the doctor thing... it's true then? I thought you liked being Robin.”

Your voice is soft, almost unsure, neither of you acknowledge it. You shiver when he smears cold topical anaesthetic around the wound.

“I need to know who I am when I'm not trying to be him…or trying to not be her.”

You both let that sit heavy in the air. Direct and straight to the point, as he always is.

He glares at your wound while piercing the needle in and out of numb flesh. You stare distractedly at the expensive looking ceiling.

“You could try it too. I know you feel the same way about him.”

His words startle you out of your trance. You look down at him with furrowed brows, his green eyes never stray from his work. You scoff,

“Oh yeah? And do what? Be a circus magician like Zatanna? Not all of us were getting medical degree knowledge by the age of 10, Wayne.”

Did you admire Zatanna’s talents? Of course, but you're no showman. You're a demonologist. Someone who does the dirty work that no one else can. It's unforgiving and often feels futile, but someone has to do it…Right?

Damian gently tugs the thread coming out of your flesh before cutting it.

“We both know how much you respect Zatanna, and we both know you could do any number of things with your life that isn't this."

He gestures to your freshly stitched waist.

"You don't have to do this just because it's what you've always done, or because it's expected. You can do anything you want.”

He doesn't say this in an encouraging way. He says it like it's obvious, like he's frustrated that you haven't figured this out yet or maybe that it took him so long to figure it out himself.

The air feels thick, Damian is used to the smell of blood, but the sight and feel of yours on his fingertips is not something he'd like to get used to.

“…You just wanna see me in fishnets.”

Damian's head shoots up from where he was applying the gauze over your stitches. He scoffs scornfully when he sees your satisfied grin and presses harder than necessary on the gauze which he immediately regrets when you groan a bit too loudly.

A single solitary moment later you hear three polite knocks on Damian's ridiculously big bedroom door.

“Master Damian, are you alright?”

Alfred. How did neither of you hear him walking up to the door? Both you and Damian stare at each other, completely lost for what to do. Though he's trained for countless situations, you doubt he's ever thought of what to do if he got caught with a girl in his room. On his bed with her shirt halfway up her torso, no less.

“I'm fine, Alfred.”

You pause a little at him calling Alfred by his first name, but he just stares at the door like he can will Alfred away with his gaze. You try to lift yourself up, so you can maybe hide in the closet or something but Damian pushes you down gently by your shoulders, giving you a stern look. Right, he's not about to let all his stitch work get undone.

“Lovely, and is Miss Constantine alright?”

You both freeze. Damian's hands still on your shoulders, you look at each other with shock, fear, embarrassment and a shared understanding that you didn't hear him walk up to the door because the old butler had been there the whole time.

The minute-long silence is broken when you burst out laughing, before clutching your wound and groaning. Damian watches you with a scowl on his face, which is tinted a more reddish colour, like he'd been trying to hold his breath too long.

“I'll be just fine, Alfred. Thanks for asking.”

Damian clicks his tongue once more as he packs up his med kit.

“Oh good, I will set up another chair for you at breakfast, Miss Constantine. It's been awhile since you've visited the manor, much has changed since your last visit.”

You give Damian a questioning smile, to which he rolls his eyes.

“Sure has.”

─⋅⋆⁺𖤐

[mspopstar]

Hey Meta Knight! Always wanted to know this: Do you get your cape dry-cleaned or is it machine-washable?

"Oh! Oh! Since Sir Meta Knight is busy, I have been asked to answer in his stead. I take care of it! Washing Captain Meta Knight's cape is a great honor so I'd be happy to share.

Captain Meta Knight has several different capes, he has a cape made out of wool for the colder months and he has a cape made for special events that's pure silk. He does have a cape that's for every day wear that's a canvas cotton. Other than the wool one, all of his capes have a gold trim and a collar that's attached through a clasp. The capes are worn above his dimensional cape!

I hand wash his silk and and wool cape! Those are tedious to take care of, but I don't mind it. For the silk and wool capes, I use a gentle no rinse detergent, soak them for a few minutes, swish them around in the basin. For the silk I hang it to dry and for the wool I lay flat on an ironing board to dry as well. Captain Meta Knight's every day cape is made with a cotton and canvas blend so I can toss it in the washing machine and dryer so long as it's cold water. As for the capes inner lining, otherwise known as his dimensional cape by others... It was a trial and error to figure out how to take care of that! I spray it with an industrial strength cleaner to sanitize and go as far to toss in some aromatics to help with the off-putting bloody and metallic smell the cleaner doesn't rid of. Lavender and rosemary works best! Of course, now I can go the extra mile and wear a harness so I can deep dive and clear out old things Sir Meta Knight doesn't need like candy wrappers or litter he picks up on his patrols and forgets to trash. All I have to do is make sure that my harness is locked, I don't stare directly into the cape and I don't speak something called "ancient" around it. The harness is the most important part!

Ahahah, wouldn't want that to happen again! There's no air in there."

-Sailor Waddle Dee of the Battleship Halberd

[holylulusworld]

Band-aids

Summary: Your alpha needs you.

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Warnings: a little injury, dramatic omega, overprotective omega, fluff, pregnant omega

“Doll?! Y/N, where is the sanitizer?” Bucky calls for you from the bathroom. “Baby? Omega?”

Your alpha gasps as you storm into the bathroom. Your eyes are wild, you’re panting heavily, and your scent changed. Bucky can smell it; you’re worried about him.

Bucky watches you open the medicine cabinet, hating that you are worried about him now. “Y/N.” He tries to calm you. “Doll?”

“What happened? Where is your injury? Are you bleeding? Is it a cut? Do I need to call an ambulance?” As you turn around, the sanitizer, band-aids, and sterile swabs in your hands, you make your way toward Bucky. He sits on the edge of the large bathtub he installed some months ago.

“It’s nothing, omega. Just a scratch,” he mumbles. “You need to calm down. I can check on the cut, okay.”

“No! I’ve got this!” You step between his spread legs to get a better look at the cut above his left brow. “How did this happen? Did someone hurt you?”

Bucky knows you are about to cry and sighs deeply. You knit your brows together, debating whether to call a doctor or not.

“Omega, baby. I already cleaned the cut with water, and it stopped bleeding,” Bucky softly speaks to you. Your alpha takes the sanitizer out of your hands to clean the wound. “It’s a scratch. I’ll live.”

“I’ll decide if it’s only a scratch.” Carefully cupping Bucky’s jaw, you tilt his head to get a good look at the cut. You hum. He’s right. The cut is small, and the wound stopped bleeding. Still, you are worried.

“It was an accident. Alpine jumped at me, and I turned my head at the wrong moment. He hit me with one of his claws.”

“Alpine hurt you?”

“It’s nothing, doll,” Bucky gently places his hand on your swollen belly. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me. I’m still…a super-soldier and my healing is…”

“A wound is a wound, James Buchanan Barnes. A scratch or not.”

Bucky doesn’t want you to get mad at him or worry you even more. The truth is that he slipped on the ladder and hit his head.

“It’s almost healed, doll. I only wanted to clean it again before the wound closes completely.”

“Hmm…this doesn’t look like a scratch from Alpine,” you wonder aloud. “Alpha.” You use his presentation on purpose. “Did you lie to me?”

“I-uh…” Bucky starts to sweat. He clears his throat and tries to win a moment to find a better lie to explain what happened. “I—sorry. I wanted to fix the creaking door of the wall cupboard. Alpine jumped at me, and I slipped…and fell. I hit my head on the counter.”

“OH, MY GOD! We need to go to the hospital. Right now. I’ll get the car and—” Bucky stops you from dragging him out of the bathroom. He gets up and wraps his arms around you.

“Baby doll, I hit my head more than once over the years. I got punched, thrown around, and slammed into walls.” You inhale sharply. “I’m sorry for worrying and lying to you. I promise it’s nothing.”

“You got hurt. That’s not nothing, Buck.” You hide your face in his chest, stiffling a sob. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

“And I love you for it.” He nuzzles your hair. “Let’s get you to bed. It’s late and I scared you. Let me check on you and little Bucky.”

You nod against him. “What about the wound?”

“It’s closed, Y/N,” he whispers. Bucky kisses your forehead, and you relax in his arms. “I promise you don’t need to worry about me.”

Bucky smiles as you tell him you like taking care of him. He hums and smiles widely. 

Of course, he doesn’t want you to worry about him, but it makes his heart flutter knowing you love taking care of him…

Read more here: Band-aids (2)

Tags in reblog.

[withluvvenus]

　　　　　　　　　﹫　VOGUE　　just pos͟t͟e͟d͟　!　　

　　

　　 "　　if you know me , you know my unhealthy obsession with gold　　"

"　　hey vogue , it's ______ _____ and we are doing whats in my bag . honestly , i have multiple bags but this one is my baby . my little brother actually bought me this one when he got his first card , so it's very special to me .　　"

"　　i used to have charms on here too , like i remember i had a sun and heart keychain , but i dunno where that went ! it's probably somewhere around the house , i lose things easily . ask anyone i've worked with , they'll tell you　　"

"　　okay , so going through the smallest pocket , it's the desginated pocket for my dear airpods . i can NOT function without them , like i need music . i need songs to flow through my veins and the closest i can get to that is through these !　　"

"　　and then in the other pocket , i have my glasses and sunnies . i hardly wear my glasses though , it's just there if i need it . my sunglasses on the other hand , or sunnies like i call them , is sooo cute , like just look at them !!　　"

"　　okay , my mom always makes fun of my for this , but obviously i carry around spare gold hoops , they're actually my holy grail . if you know me , you know my unhealthy obsession with gold . just pop in some of these hoops and your outfit is 99.9% better , in my humble opinion , of course no bias　　"

"　　oh here we go , my digital camera . if you guys follow my social medias , you probably have seen this beautiful and gorgeous and convenient thing come in hand . like i think everyone deserves this in their lives , i definitely recommend　　"

"　　here's some makeup , mostly lippies , and perfume . the majority of my makeup is at home and this is just some of the things i like to keep with me . oh oops my wallet is in the wrong pocket , it's supposed to be with my hoops . no wonder why i didn't see it there , haha !　　"

"　　and at the bottom of this bag is my hand sanitizer , gum , and hairbrush . i obviously have more things in my bag depending on the situation , like a laptop or even a book , but today i guess i didn't have those things　　"

"　　last but not least , how could i forget ! here's a polaroid of my boyfriend and i in the front pocket . i have one in my phone case and matt does too , but there was one extra so i got to keep it and this is where it lives !　　"

　　　　"　　thank you so much vogue for having me !! love u lots　　"

　　　　　　　　　　　　　𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗹𝘂𝘃 ✶ 𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘂𝘀

[yonypj]

LUX IMPERATOR x BUTCHER READER

warning: mentions of dead animals, mentions of cutting meat.

You met him a long time ago, months actually, but you still remember it like it was yesterday. Sure, you were doing another exhausting day of work while cutting more and more kilos of meat when he showed up. Obviously, you tried to stab him and even more obviously, he had a lot of fun with it, but that awkwardness when you met.

Now, you're used to having the little tick that won't let go of you, you're used to waking up every single day next to him, you're so used to being with him that you feel your heart beat faster when he gives you silly little kisses on your face for fun, he irritates you sometimes, sometimes a lot but it's like he's a roommate who bothers you but is always there for you.

Your family works in the butcher business, your father was, your mother was, your grandfather was and your great-grandfather too, naturally you inherited the butcher shop, you learned from them how to handle huge knives, you learned where to cut the joints and you learned how to prepare and sanitize the meat. Of course Mr. Ring-a-Ding is by your side all the time, often inside the shop, and here you are again, trying to cut the pork that arrived, "poor animal!" Mr. Ring-a-Ding says dramatically as he looks at the pig there in front of him, sniffing while sad violin music echoes, "oh my dear, how can you be so cruel?", you just roll your eyes, putting your hands on your waist "you know he's already dead, and it'll only get worse if I take too long to cut him and don't put him in the freezer" your comment only makes the situation worse, which makes him sniff more and whine more and more dramatically.

After a few minutes he starts to want to pull the cleaver out of your hand, wanting you to stop preparing the animal's meat for sale "oh! no! let go!!" you almost scream when you see him jump and grab your arm that was raised so he couldn't reach it, after a while of fighting and complaining he grumbles in defeat, crossing his arms while stamping his foot on the ground, "you know, I feel offended with you dismembering a poor animal like him, look, he even has a nose just like mine, oh my sweetie, would you do that to me?" he grumbles again, as he takes the hat off his head and places it against his chest, big tears roll down his cheeks.

You just sigh again, tired from a whole day of work, your bones are sore and your arm too but... the look he gives you doesn't stop a small smile from forming on your face, you bow down, kneeling on the floor while your free hand would be his cheek, Mr. Ring a Ding seems a little surprised by something sudden like that, but still leans in with his head lightly on your hand, a small kiss is planted on his nose, which makes him laugh softly with his characteristic laugh that you have learned to love, "I would never do something like that to you".

Lux smiles, he feels ecstatic with the kiss, as if stars were burning in his chest in a strong and blinding light, he sighs, feeling your hand covered by the glove on his cheek, obviously, most of the things he does are just to annoy you, it's not like he really cares about an animal but still, he wanted your attention, he needed it.

Feeling your lips was something that made him shiver, he feels so good, a feeling that he can never really describe, every time he feels this it's only when he's with you, sleeping with you, watching you drink coffee, oh how he loves you, but now he has a new addiction, your lips, the feeling in his nose lingers, and the hearts around him only give away what he's feeling, his crooked smile only gives away how much you have his heart in your hands.

Sorry if this is short! but I hope you like it, a special request from @alegalcara, I did my best!

again I'm not fluent in English so sorry for any spelling mistakes!