#all shivers and needs to nest in blankets for a while

[taibhsearachd]

I put this narwhal toy down next to the radiator and he IMMEDIATELY nestled into it. Winter is hard when you are a tiny little boy.

[ddejavvu]

Hi, i hope youre doing well ☺️

Could i request another part to animagus cat reader where reader cuddles with Remus during winter instead of Sirius because its cold and he runs warmer?? Like he'll be in the common room reading in an arm chair while reader catnaps on his lap while being pet and Sirius tells him to stop stealing his gf and James is jealous/whiny that he doesnt get to have cat snuggles.

part 1 / part 2

--

Despite the two blankets layered in an inviting nest on Sirius's lap, Remus is the warmest person in the room. The fire crackes on its logs, offering scorching heat, but what you seek is gentle warmth, and you've found it between Remus's sweater and his undershirt. You're splayed over his chest much like a baby would be, your paws stretched out against his shoulders and your head pressed face-first into his chest. His sweater is tight enough that it holds you in place, and you don't have to worry about falling. It means that you're able to fully relax, and Sirius can hear your rampant purring from where he sits on the couch with a sour scowl on his face.

"If you just wore warmer clothes, you wouldn't be pissy right now," Remus muses, not bothering to grace the man with a glance away from his novel, "She only likes me 'cause my sweater is warm."

That's not entirely true. While Remus does tend to dress for comfort, and Sirius for style, Remus runs naturally hotter than your boyfriend. You don't have the heart to tell him that, though, so you mewl in agreement to Remus's statement.

"Sweaters are dumb," Sirius spits, and no one bothers to mention that he has a small collection of them for the snowy days on the grounds, "I look better in leather."

"Your loss," Remus shrugs, and to add insult to injury, reaches up to scratch a spot behind your ears that only makes your purring louder.

"This is bullshit," Sirius finally huffs, breaking his facade of gloomy indifference, "Prongs, get over here."

James, all too eager to help out his friend and soak up affection to boot, has no problem tipping over sideways to lay in Sirius's lap.

But the man lifts James's head out of his lap by his curls, "No, no, no, not James. Prongs."

"You want me to-?" James asks, but doesn't dare finish, because the prospect of transforming right in the common room sends a shiver of mischief down his spine that he'd be a fool to question, "On it."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," Sirius nods, sneering haughtily at Remus, "You're not the only one that's good for a cuddle, Moony. Look at this," He gushes, as James begins his transformation, skin giving way to tight, short fur and enormous antlers that nearly grate against the stone walls around you.

"Oh, he's a perfect fit." Remus nods resignedly, content to continue rubbing at your ears rather than chastise his friends for trying to fit a stag on a loveseat, "Yeah, that'll work nicely- ooh, careful Sirius, almost got stabbed there."

Sirius dodges a prong off of James's antlers, taking them in his hands and holding James's head steady as the oversized buck folds his knobbly knees into Sirius's lap. The back two can't make it, but James fits them clumsily onto the cushion, maintaining his balance out of dramatic willpower rather than the laws of physics.

You decide once they settle that they're no longer in need of your attention, so you turn your head back towards Remus and burrow your face back into his warm chest. You feel it shake with mirth beneath you, presumably at an overdramatized reaction from the two boys opposite you, but you can't bring yourself to care; sleep is at the forefront of your brain in this form.

"Yeah, get real cozy!" Sirius insists, calling so that you can hear him through Remus's thick sweater and beneath the weight of his hand on your ears, "Whatever! We're cozy over here, too, 'never been more comfortable- ah! Prongs, watch the hooves!"

[mothwingwritings]

C and F for my boy Pickle

Eyyy sorry for the delay! (Yes I am still working on these!!!) Here is some Pickle goodness for you my dear.~<3

WARNINGS: Sex and violence and one love sick feral man.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Pickle would honestly treat you as nicely as he is able too. His living environment has its limitations, but he does everything he can to make it comfortable and inviting for you, adamant about making it a home that is fitting of his mate.

Once you are safely stashed away in his secret abode he sets to work constructing you a nest of things so that you may find pinnacle contentment in your new home. He’s gathered an amalgamation of the softest blankets, clothes, linen, etc. that has been given to him or that he has scavenged, so that you may rest in peace and luxury while in his presence. He also brings you the best cuts of meat after his hunts, though he caught on quickly that you were apt to turn your nose at his bloody, raw offering (he couldn’t quite understand why, he was sure you would love it if you just gave it a chance). Once he picks up on your distaste, he instead begins to hoard ingredients and snacks he steals picks up out in the world, supplying you all manner of foodstuff till he pins down the ones you like.

While Pickle prefers you in your natural state, he understands your body needs protection from the elements. He doesn’t quite get modern fashion, but you seem sad wearing the same thing over and over again. While he’s out he procures a hodge-podge of varying clothing, presenting it to you by dumping it at your feet, a huge dopey grin on his face. He loves seeing you in the clothing he gifts you, you look so beautiful in each and every piece that he can’t help but stare, holding back the urge to rip it right back off and have his way with you.

Pickle won’t mock you and wouldn’t dream of disrespecting you in anyway. Any harm he causes you is either completely unintentional or for your own good. He loses control of himself sometimes, forgetting his own strength. You are just so small and he loves you so much, it’s hard to hold himself back. He hates using his strength against you to prove a point, but if you remain insistent on trying to escape him he will do what he must to protect you. You are HIS mate and HE’S the only one who can take care of you. All that’s waiting for you in this strange new world is danger, so if you won’t stay by his side willingly, he will force you there.

All that said, while you may be relatively safe from Pickle’s more violent tendencies, anyone else most certainly is NOT. If another person approaches you, threatens you, or tries to take you away from him they will be obliterated, decimated, ripped to shreds, torn apart until nothing is left. He’ll bask in the gruesome slaughter, their end another validation that he is the best one for you, the one who loves and can protect you above all others. Doesn’t matter if that person is a stranger or your own mother-he is all you need, anyone else butting in is an unnecessary threat.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would find it incredibly charming if you tried to fight him. Pickle doesn’t see it as an act of aggression at all, but views it as you trying to mimic him as a sign of reverence. You think he is so impressive and strong that you strive to be like him, going so far as to challenge him to a fight. It’s adorable, and he can’t help but break out into a huge toothy grin when he sees you assume a fighting stance.

And it excites him- seeing you tense up, clenching your fists and bending your knees, preparing to strike at a moment’s notice. Seconds before the fray, you stare him down with such intensity, sizing him up and calculating what moves you should make against him, gears turning in your head as you focus wholly on him. The fixation on him sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He is the only one you are thinking of in that moment, and in turn you are all that is occupying his thoughts.

Your strikes never hurt him and he can tell how much that frustrates you. He’ll play along sometimes to make you happy, yowling like a mother lioness that is being batted by her cub. He’ll cringe at your punch, shy away from your kick. If he’s convincing enough, you sometimes award him with a small smile, a brief look of accomplishment. It warms his heart, knowing you are having as good of a time as he is.

He also relishes the closeness the two of you share when you initiate these little fights. Usually you try and hide away from him, distancing yourself as much as possible whenever he is in the vicinity. At first he thought it was another game you were trying to play with him, something coy, cute, and seductive to grab his attention. But when the chase became a regular thing he was disappointed, why did you put up such a fuss each time your mate tried to approach you? You didn’t even give him a prize when he finally caught you, just flailing and screaming and spitting. It hurt his feelings- this was supposed to be fun.

But the little brawls you had were fun, and they gave him a chance to have you near him without any to-do. He could feel your skin on his, smell your sweat as your body writhed and wriggled against his. Feeling your small hands grab at his hulking form, listening to your strained moans and heavy breathing as you threw your all into attacking him… Witnessing you in such a state, holding you close as your body rubbed his in just the right way, it doesn’t take long for him to completely lose control.

Before you can recognize what is going on, your body is sheathing his cock, previous grunts of exertion quickly turning into wails of pleasure.

He doesn’t understand why you cry so much afterwards, though. Were you not having as much fun as he was? You initiated the fight, why are you so upset at the outcome? It was a good tussle, and judging by the noises you were making, he was able to make you feel good. Even if you struggled a bit when he was trying to enter you, you always end up yielding to him. The fit is tight, and there have been several times he was afraid he would outright break you when he pushed deeper, pressing into your core.  But the pleasure that courses through him as he bottoms out is indescribable. He loses himself in the feel of you surrounding him, completely consumed by the euphoria your body has supplied him.

You are his perfect mate, his brave little warrior, and his love for you is endless. So don’t cry, OK? Maybe next time he’ll let you really ‘win.’ :)

[woso-fan13]

Comfortember 2023: 4 (Barca)

4. Warmth

You were so appreciative of everyone who came to your games. So, even if it was freezing cold and raining, you made sure to sign as many jerseys and take as many pictures as you could. 

You finally made it back to the locker room after almost a half hour talking to fans. Most of your other teammates had already gotten a quick shower and dressed in warm, dry clothes by that point. You were still shivering. 

Lucy greets you with a smile that quickly turns into a frown. 

“You’re soaked!” she exclaims, “hurry and hop into the shower. You need to warm up.”

You don’t need convincing, hurrying to allow the hot water to shock your nerves. You shower quickly as you know the hot water is nearing an end, drying and putting on a sweatsuit. You’re still freezing cold. 

You walk back into the almost empty locker room, seeing only Kiera and Lucy sitting on a bench and talking quietly. Walking over to them, you attempt to squeeze yourself in between them. The women laugh at your efforts but move to allow you to cuddle between them for warmth. They could see the blue tinge on your lips and the shivers racking your frame, and they knew they needed to fix the problem. Lucy drapes her coat over the top of you as Kiera pulls a hat over your head, being sure to cover your ears. You wanted to roll your eyes at how overprotective they were being, but you loved it. 

Knowing that the relatively cool locker room and hard bench weren’t the ideal place to achieve an ideal body temperature, they allow you to rest for a minute before nudging you up and towards the door. Lucy grabs the pile of bags that the two had collected earlier while Kiera wraps an arm around you and pulls you to her side. The three of you hurry to the car. 

You climb into the backseat, surprised when Kiera follows you. You aren’t complaining, though, as she allows you to rest against her and steal her body heat. The drive back to their home is short, but you can feel your eyes dropping quickly. 

Once you arrive, Lucy opens the door nearest you and reaches her arms down. Gladly, you allow her to pick you up, your still icy finger digging into her skin. You hide your face in her neck to avoid the cold breeze. This time, you leave Kiera with the bags. 

If you’re at all fazed by not being at your apartment, you don’t show it. You allow Lucy to carry you inside like you had lived there all your life. With how often you were over, you did basically live there. 

Lucy settles you on a chair in the living room, pulling a blanket over your head. Giggling, you rip it off and wrap it around you. She quickly pulls the sofa out into a bed, tasking the newly arrived Kiera with gathering sheets. The two quickly put the fitted sheet on, tossing blankets and pillows on to make a nest in the middle. 

“Alright, I think we’re all ready. Y/N/N, are you coming?” Lucy asks. 

Pushing your luck, you raise your arms to her. Groaning, she picks you up, walks two steps, then drops you onto the mattress. 

“Thanks, Luce!” you smile cheekily. 

Kiera comes over and the two shoo you back to the middle as they climb in on either side. You snuggle in between the two women and under the large pile of blankets, and you can feel some of your usual warmth returning. 

[rfxiii]

Hi, i enjoy your headcanons and writing! I was wondering if you could write about Franklin, trevor and Michael with an S/O who is cold easily :)? I'm anemic and the winter weather is kicking my ass in that regard rn, lmao

(I’ve always had such bad anemia, so I totally feel you! It doesn’t get too cold here, but winter is literally the worst! Anyways! Tysm for the request, I’m sorry it took so long!)

TW: None

Franklin, Trevor, and Michael with a S/O who gets cold easily:

Franklin Clinton:

Over protective vibes are activated. If you get too cold, you could get sick. And he’s not letting anything happen to you!

He brings a spare jacket everywhere in case you need it, he cranks up the heat in the car/house, he buys a bunch of blankets. He’d even take his own shirt and jacket off to give to you if it looked like you needed it.

He’s not a great cook, but he’ll buy you tons of canned soup, hot teas, make you coffee- anything to keep you warm and comfortable.

He likes lighting his fireplace at night and sitting on the couch with you, in a big nest of blankets, while he holds you and fights off the chill of the night with your shared body heat.

He keeps track of the weather on his phone throughout the day to make sure you won’t need more layers and so he can update you on the temperature when you get ready in the morning. He’d even come to your work, or someplace in the city, to bring you an extra jacket if you’re out without him.

Trevor Philips:

“Did ya know gettin’ naked together under the blankets creates body heat?” He’s using any excuse he can to get you as close as he can. Luckily, he runs pretty hot, and it doesn’t get too cold out in Sandy Shores except at night.

He’s from Canada, he’s used to the cold. So, he may not be as sensitive to your needs as he should be. He’s a very “It’s not cold to me. Why’re you bitchin’?” kinda guy. He may pick on you a bit until he sees you shivering. He’ll give you his old, never-been-washed, denim jacket to keep you warm, after that. He really does care about your comfort, he’s just not super perceptive about that kind of stuff.

He’ll offer to make you soup/stew to keep you warm. Do not eat it! His heart is in the right place, but the last thing you want is to be freezing and have food poisoning. If you gently decline his offer, he’ll make Wade or Ron go somewhere and buy you something pre-made, and safe to eat.

Cranks up the heat in his trailer to almost unlivable degrees. It’s awful, it’s hard to breathe, he’s sweating everywhere- but his heart was in the right place and it is a sweet gesture.

Michael De Santa:

Are you cold? Well, now the most expensive, well insulated, name brand jacket is now yours. Congratulations!

He’s offering to take you on a tropical vacation every winter. It doesn’t get too bad cold in Los Santos during the winter, thankfully. But he’d do anything to keep you comfortable.

He shows up to see you with expensive coffee/tea everytime he sees you. And buys you tons of expensive, handmade wool blankets to keep you warm.

He offers to buy you a car with heated seats/heated steering wheel, etc. He’s all about keeping you warm and comfortable.

Secretly kind of likes that you get cold so easily, so he can pull the cheesy, romantic move of pulling off his own jacket and draping it around your shoulders when he notices you shivering.

[little-emerald-snake]

Kinktober Day 29

Getting Caught - Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1.1k words

Ominis sighed as the gates of the Undercroft slammed shut behind him. He quickly scanned the room, making sure he was alone, pleased when he found himself in lonely silence.

He strode his way forward to the back of the Undercroft to the pile of pillows and blankets Anne, Sebastian, and their latest friend had insisted they stash away for comfort.

He couldn’t deny it was a good idea, he’d taken many a nap in this comfortable pile. And just like now, he’d used this private space for other activities.

He found a comfortable spot and nestled himself down into the space. He wasn’t entirely sure he was hidden from sight of the door but he was fairly confident. As well as knowing most of his friends should be busy or had no reason to come to the Undercroft.

Once he was settled, he pulled off his jacket and his vest, leaving just his white linen dress shirt. He untucked the shirt from his trousers while also undoing the button and zipper of them.

He was already so sensitive, shivering as he pushed the waistband of his underwear down, exposing the swollen pink head of his erection. He screwed his eyes shut as he firmly grasped himself, pressing a thumb over his tip and releasing a gasp of pleasure.

He released himself briefly, bringing his hand up and spitting into his palm for lubrication. Sure he could have used a lubrication charm but he always found doing magic took away from the carnal experience.

He wrapped his palm tightly around his erection, fisting and rolling his palm to spread his spit over himself. Only once he was sure he’d be slick enough to pleasure himself, he took a few experimental pumps of his hand, gasping each time his fingers brushed against his sensitive head.

Ominis groaned, working his hand faster as his hips gently lifted off the nest of blankets, chasing the pleasure his fist offered.

He was always stuck between hating doing this and loving it, it offered him an escape that always felt so good and raw. But also caused him guilt that he’d often picture one of his friends doing this with him or too him.

He’d often thought of the new fifth year, occasionally Sebastian ordering him how to move his hands. Their voices were loudest in his head since he spoke to them the most often.

Sometimes he imagined them there with him, a soft hand tracing up his length. A soft lock of hair against his cheek as they manipulated his sex.

Casual, accidental, brushes were all he knew. He used them to his advantage when trying to add some excitement to his moments of stress relief.

He’d often feel guilty later for imagining his friends but he’d convinced himself that since he was blind this was the best he had for pornographic material. Allowing himself to think it’s all he knew since he couldn’t view lewd images or think up what girls may look like, naked beside him.

This time in particular, he was imagining the ‘no longer new, no longer 5th year’ friend of his. She was sitting there coaxing him with her pretty voice, urging him to pump his fist harder.

He imagined her telling him how good he looked doing this, how excited it made her to watch the sight of him doing lewd things like this with her as his audience.

He was so close now, hips bucking up as he did his best to avoid the sensitive tip of his cock. He wanted this to last as long as it could because he’d really needed to clear his head and satisfy the carnal urge he had.

He’d been so close to cumming he’d barely heard the sound of the Undercroft door chimes. He’d caught it just in time, quick enough to tuck away his sensitive and leaking erection and right his clothes enough to be presentable.

He’d sort of panicked and pulled a blanket over him to cover himself, deciding he’d pretend to have been taking a nap. “H-hello? Who’s there?”

He heard that sweet melodic voice he’d just been imagining in his head moments ago as well as her soft steps echoing closer to him as she approached the pile to the back of the Undercroft. “Oh hello Ominis. Fancy meeting you here at this time. Are you feeling alright?”

Suddenly she was close, pressing a hand to his cheek as if to feel his temperature. He bit his tongue to hold back a groan. Her soft sweet hands on him pulled him back into the lurking need he was just experiencing.

He quickly shooed her hands away and she frowned, going to pull the blanket from him. “If you’re running a fever you really shouldn’t be under so many blankets, Ominis. I won’t hesitate to take you to the nurse against your will.”

She pulled back the blanket and immediately his hands came to block his straining erection from her view, his face getting even more red. “I-I swear, this isn’t what it looks like. Merlin, why are you even here?!”

Her eyes were glued to his ‘problem’ as her head finally put together the pieces of Ominis’ disheveled appearance and why he was hidden away in the undercroft. “O-oh I’m erm…I apologize.”

She quickly laid the blanket back over him and backed up a bit. Guilt, shame, and a hint of excitement made her heart race. “I-it seems we came down here to…do the same thing.”

Ominis’ face went from embarrassment / anger to wide eyed intrigue. Had she really just admitted to coming down here for self gratification. “Y-you also came down here to…really?”

She chuckled uncomfortably as she laid back on the other side of the blanket pile, far enough away that if her red cheeks spontaneously combusted she wouldn’t take the blonde out with her. “Well…yea. I’m sure all of us do since the dorms never seem empty. Having a secret place that’s mostly private…”

He hummed in agreement, never really realizing how right she probably was. “You're probably right. I guess I’ve never thought about it. I erm, I can leave so you can…”

She jumped up as he started to sit up, she put a hand on his leg to stop him. “N-no it’s fine really. Maybe we could both just…stay. You know…use it as an added element…”

His heart rate picked up when he realized what she was meaning and he cleared his throat. “That's not a bad idea. Let’s…do that.”

With him using the lewd sounds her body made as well as her perfect little gasps and whimpers, he put on the show of her life, moaning perfectly as he made a mess on his stomach. A mess she was almost tempted to ask to clean up.

Part 2

Kinktober Prompt List

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

There For You

Summary: When Dabi gets sick at your place, he lets a couple of his walls come down, but there’s a thin line of how close he’s willing to let you get to him.

Genre: angst, pining, established relationship

CW: cursing, mentions of the flu/sickness, suggestive

Word Count: 2,860

"You're still burning up, but it's less than yesterday," you sigh heavily, hand pressed to the man's forehead as he huffs and brushes away your arm.

"I run hot; it's nothing," Dabi dismisses, sweat making his dark hair stick to his skin, his shirt and pants long since discarded in an attempt to keep cool. "Besides, I'm fucking shivering. I'm not worried about overheating," he mumbles, and you shake your head at him, already planning on getting another blanket from the living room.

"Shivering is part of the fever, Dabi. You know that. You probably didn't do yourself any favors by taking that hot bath last night," you scold gently. He huffs again but doesn't argue further, pretty blue eyes fluttering shut.

You'd never admit it, but you were glad he was here like this. You'd known he wasn't himself when he'd shown up unannounced two days ago. He'd been fidgety and clearly exhausted as he curled up around you, but it wasn't until you woke up to the man draped over you, drenched in sweat and hotter than any human should be, that you realized how sick he was.  

He'd protested when you'd woke him up in a panic, insisting he needed to let you get him medicine, insisted that he was fine. That is until his legs gave out at the doorway of your bedroom, and he'd dropped to his knees and admitted maybe he should stay.

Since then, it had been a cycle of medicines, showers, sleep, and food. If it had been up to Dabi, he'd have just slept the entire time, insisting he could handle his fever, even when he started to worry you.

The second night had been the hardest, when his body had started to reject anything he'd put in it, and you'd both spent the night hours sleeping in the bathroom- him in a nest of blankets on the floor and you in the bathtub. You'd been awake more than he had that night, ensuring he was still breathing and his temperature hadn't risen every few hours.

He'd started to refuse food, and it had taken everything in you not to sit on him and shove it down his throat, choosing to bargain with the sick man instead. Eventually, he'd accept saltines and nothing else, which had been enough for you.

You could remember clearly when the delirium had set in that night. Those tired blue eyes trained on you as he sat against the bathroom wall, sweat dripping down his face as he pressed a blanket further around himself.

"You're beautiful," he'd murmured sleepily, and you dragged your weary gaze to his. "I mean it. Can't believe you let me stay here. Let alone fuck your brains out regularly. Could be bagging pro-heroes with that face."

You'd just rolled your eyes and ignored his rambling for the next forty minutes until sleep thinned your patience, and you leaned over the edge of the tub to press a finger against his mouth, effectively shutting him up so the both of you could sleep.

"Hey. Don't look so worried." Dabi's voice drew you back to the present, where you stood with a bottle of ibuprofen, meaning to check when he could take another dose. "I'm not dying more than usual."

You glared at him at his words, and he shot you a knowing grin. "Glad you feel good enough to make those kinds of jokes," you muttered, setting the bottle back down on the table next to your bed. "Think you're up for a shower while I make you soup?" you pressed, and he paused for a moment before giving a slight nod, groaning as he sat up.

"You just love to get me naked," he taunted, shooting you a grin- although it showed just how tired he was, it still made your heart flutter. You paused in the doorway to turn and give him a sweet smile as you spoke.

"Dabi, baby, with all due respect, you stink," you informed him with a wrinkle of your nose, laughing softly when he flipped you off in response.

The past few days had been a blur of microwaved meals and crackers, and it suddenly dawned on you just how little you'd actually eaten. You hesitated as you looked through your fridge for something quick, your gaze landing on the chicken you'd meant to eat two nights ago. You sighed, pulling out the Tupperware container to throw it out as you pushed aside condiments to find other food that would soon spoil.

You straightened suddenly as you pushed aside onions, hot sauce, and soy sauce, reminded of a soup recipe from your childhood. Mentally you ran through the ingredients, checking them off as you found them in your fridge and cupboards, gathering them onto your counter.

Biting your lip, you glanced at the time, warring with yourself on whether you would be able to make it before Dabi inevitably reappeared. Your decision was made when you thought about all the money you'd be wasting if you didn't use some of your produce in your fridge soon.

You got to work quickly, chopping vegetables as you let water and broth boil on the stove, adding herbs and sauces. You lost track of time as you cooked, humming quietly to yourself, and jumped when a pair of warm hands landed on your hips.

"Sorry I took so long. What're you doing?" Dabi rasped quizzically, water dripping from his hair onto his shirt as he released you, puzzled when he watched you turn off the stove and grab a bowl.

"I made soup," you shrugged, watching from the corner of your eye when he peered into the pot, eyes widening.

"You made this?" he repeated, watching as you filled a bowl and handed it to him. He eyed the bowl suspiciously, and you stifled a laugh, giving him a spoon and gently pushing him to your small dining room table.

"It's not a big deal, Dabi. I had the ingredients and figured we both could use a break from canned soup and microwaved meals," you joked, grabbing yourself a bowl.

He said nothing, and you watched nervously as he stirred his spoon around the bowl for a moment before hesitantly taking a bite. His eyes widened as he groaned, mumbling under his breath.

"Holy fuck," he dug in quickly, and you smiled softly, shaking your head as you ate in the kitchen, cleaning your mess as you went. You gave him a gentle smile when he returned to the kitchen with an empty bowl, sheepishly gesturing to the pot.

You nodded, returning to cleaning as he poured himself a second helping, hiding your smile. It wasn't often you could surprise Dabi, even less often that he was so at ease, and you couldn't help the way it made you feel when it happened. He paused before he left, tugging you in by your hip so he could press a lingering kiss against your forehead before releasing you and returning to his spot.

Minutes passed as you finished wiping down the counter, and Dabi spoke up quietly, halfway through his second bowl. "You didn't need to put in so much work for me."

You laughed softly, wiping your hands on a towel before you turned to speak to him, walking around to his side of the table.

"I just figured it had been a while since someone made you a home-cooked meal," you murmured quietly, bending down to press your lips to his forehead. The action was intended to allow you to discreetly feel his temperature, but all you could feel was how he stiffened at your words.

A heavy silence suddenly settled between the two of you, and you pulled back quickly as he sat silently. You can tell you messed up, revealed too much, and struck a nerve all at once.

You move back to the sink, busying yourself with cleaning the dishes as you sneak a couple glances at him. He's staring down at the bowl, shoulders tight and his gaze unreadable, stormy as he thinks.

You want nothing more than to apologize for your careless words, to smooth away the angry wrinkle between his brows, but you don't. It wouldn't help. You'd learned early on that there were things you couldn't fix.

You're all too aware that loving Dabi sometimes means letting him hurt.

Not that you'd never tell him that's what you felt for him.

Love.

A stupid, four-letter word that had enough power to send him far from your arms if you slipped up and said it.

Because for Touya, love was the worst mistake of all. It meant he had to reveal the softest, most breakable parts of himself. It meant he had to care about something in his life that wasn't just revenge. And that simply wasn't something he was interested in, despite all the nights spent in your arms, in your bed.

You shake yourself, realizing you'd been scrubbing the same spoon for a ridiculously long time, and sigh, dropping your head for a moment. You look back at Dabi to see him watching you, his expression guarded as he takes another bite.

"I'm gonna head to bed," you murmured, ignoring the surprised look he shoots you.

You can't bring yourself to look at him, brushing past him instead to hurry down the hallway to your bedroom. Guilt and hurt gnawed at you as you changed into pajamas, and you hesitated before slipping his old T-shirt over your head. At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if he was gone before you woke up. At the very least, you'd get to keep a piece of him this time.

You ignore him when he comes into your room, eyeing you cautiously as you give him space. So you're surprised when he crowds you in the bathroom as you're drying your face, hands winding around your waist as he hooks a chin over your shoulder.

"You look good in my shirt," he rumbled, eyes avoiding yours when you looked at him in the mirror's reflection. His hands slip under your shirt to spread over your stomach, his pinky brushing along the underside of your breast, and you can't help the way you lean into it, sighing softly. He presses a kiss behind your ear, and then another one lower, and another, trailing a path down your neck.

"Dabi, baby, wait," you protest weakly, eyes squeezed shut as you try to focus with the way his lips latch onto the sweet spot on your throat, sucking a dark bruise onto it.

"Wanna thank you properly," he dismisses, spinning you around to face him. He doesn't give you a second to think before his hands grip the back of your thighs and lift you to wrap around his hips.

His lips are back on your skin as he walks, but you don't miss how he's breathing harder than usual or how his hands are shaking after he sets you down on the bed.

His movements are rushed as he settles between your legs, and it's only when he sits back to grip the waistband of your pajama shorts that you get a clear look at his face.

"Dabi, stop." you rush, hands grabbing his wrists as he freezes, pain-filled eyes rushing to meet yours. "I'm not fucking you. Not while you're clearly still sick," you soothe, expecting relief to flood the man's face.

"I don't understand," his tone is suddenly cold and detached as he sits back on his heels, hands curled into fists against his thighs.

You struggle to sit up at his words, your brows drawn down in confusion. "Don't understand what?" you press, reaching for his hand. He shifts out of your reach subtly, but his message is clear, sending a pang of hurt through you that you try to swallow down.

"In the kitchen, I thought you were upset because I didn't thank you right. I thought-" Dabi clamps his mouth shut suddenly as he turns his gaze away from you, jaw set.

You search his face for a moment, trying to connect the dots before it clicks. "Oh."

You don't mean for it to come out the way it does, and you can see his jaw tighten again as he begins to move away, and you shoot forward, hand curling around his wrist to stop him. If you let him go now, there's no telling when he'd return.

"Touya," You murmur softly. There's a reason you hardly use his birth name despite being given permission to, and you're reminded of that when he flinches at the sound falling from your lips.

"I didn't mean to sound so judgemental," your fingers slip up over his skin until you're cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at you as you speak. His gaze is clouded, eyes puffy from lack of sleep, and you can see weariness eating away at him now more than ever.

His expression doesn't shift, and it's as if he's looking right through you. You're firmer this time when you call his name, both hands cupping his face and forcing him to look at you.

"I'm not taking care of you because I expect you to crawl into my bed as thanks. I'm not taking care of you because I think you'll owe me after. I'm taking care of you because you eventually have to let someone do it, and I... I care," you admit quietly.

Because I love you and just want you to know that.

You don't say those words out loud, no matter how badly your heart is screaming at you. You ignore it as you brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead, his gaze softer now, relieved.

"I'm sorry," he begins to murmur, but you shush him, giving a slight shake of your head.

"No need to apologize. Just... don't forget that I'm here for you, okay? Not what you could do for me," You bite your lip, afraid that you're getting too close as you drop your gaze and hands from his face.

He hums in response, tilting your gaze back to his, and for the first time in a while, when you look at him, all you see is openness. No walls to break down, no hurt and fury vying for his attention. And for a split second, you wonder if he's as much in love as you are.

"Can I kiss you?" he rasps, and you nod, uncaring at this moment if he gets you sick. You just want to feel him. He leans in easily, his lips barely brushing over yours as he speaks, almost too low to hear him when he speaks. "Don't want to lose you,"

You want to pull away, want to ask him what he means, not even sure if you heard him correctly, but then he's slotting his mouth over yours in a kiss that steals all the air from your lungs.

Most of Dabi's kisses leave you breathless, but this one is different. There's more meaning behind it than the man in front of you can say, but it's as if he's trying his best to show you. A hand cups the back of your neck to guide you until your head hits the pillows again, his lips never leaving yours. His hands slide down your arms before entwining his fingers with yours and pulling them against his chest, right above where his heart is pounding.

He's gentle as he flattens your palm over the spot, nose bumping yours when he pulls away with a shaky breath, pressing feather-soft kisses over your cheeks and eyes before he sits up. He keeps your hand over his heart for a moment longer before lifting it to press one last lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

His blue eyes never waver from your face as he moves, and part of you wants to look away, to run from the intensity of his gaze, but you don't. He gives you one last soft kiss before he swings a leg off the bed, groaning as he stands.

"I'm going to go shower again; feel free to get some rest, doll," he invites, and you sit up as you watch him gather clothes to sleep in.

"No hot water, right? Just warm?" you remind him, and he laughs softly, coming around to your side of the bed again to press a kiss to the top of your head.

"Got it, doc. Get some sleep. I'll be back soon," he soothes. You watch him go, listening to the shower turn on a moment later.

You're already half-asleep when he returns, but you turn into his arms when he slides under the covers beside you, your head nestled under his chin.

He sighs deeply, and your breathing falls into sync with his as sleep begins to claim you, surrounded by his warmth and scent, partially masked by the smell of your shampoo.

You almost miss his words, whispered to what he assumed was just himself in the darkness.

"How the hell am I supposed to stop loving you?"

[goldenempyrean]

ooooo

for this, how about sick reader who absolutely refuses to take medicine but wandanat bribes them with cuddles and one of their hoodies?

- 🎧

Bribery

〚 Notes - Another quick little drabble to empty my inbox :D Enjoy :) 〛

〚 Pairing- WandaNat x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Refusing to take your medicine isn't exactly pleasing your girlfriends, luckily, they know just how to bribe you. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 700 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

You knew you were coming down with something. You’d felt it coming on for days. So, when you woke up with an awfully sore throat and stuffy nose, you knew you were in for a rough few days, still your work needed doing so you settled down and cracked on with your files. 

Luckily for you, both of your girlfriends had noticed the growing pile of tissues in the trash next to you and the increased loudness of your sneezes and it seemed they’d both had enough of your antics. 

With an affirming nod, both girls made their way over to the table where you were sat, “You ready for a break princess?” Nat cooed as she came to stand behind your chair, wrapping her arm over the front of your chest. 

“I think you could use it baby,” Wanda added as she slowly pulled the file you’d been working on away, “You sound like you’re getting a cold.” 

“I second that.” Nat added, not giving you a chance to deny it, “Come on baby, how about we lay down for a bit, you’ve done enough work for now.” 

You couldn't help but smile at the thought of taking a break. The exhaustion from working while sick was starting to catch up with you. "Alright," you said, standing up slowly, "That sounds good to me." 

Nat and Wanda led you to the bedroom, where they had already prepared a cosy nest of blankets and pillows. They helped you get settled in and then both climbed in beside you, snuggling up close. Everything was fine until you racked forward with a harsh, chesty fit of coughing which had both your girlfriends rubbing your back worriedly. 

 “How about we get some medicine into you?” Nat soothed, once you’d finally calmed down from the fit. 

You shook your head stubbornly, “I’m fine, it’s just a little cold. I don’t need any medicine.” 

Both Nat and Wanda exchanged concerned looks, “But baby,” Wanda said softly, “you need to take something to help you feel better.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll be fine, I don’t need any medicine, I just need rest.” 

But as the day wore on, your symptoms only got worse. Your cough grew more persistent, and your nose became even more congested. Your girlfriends tried numerous times to persuade you to take some medicine, but you refused each time, insisting that you would get better on your own. 

Eventually though, it seemed your stubbornness was no longer going to be tolerated because Nat suddenly released you from her hold, as did Wanda, leaving you shivering in the absence of their body heat. 

“You take the medicine, and you’ll get all the cuddles you could ever possibly want. That’s only if you take it.” Nat said sternly, her tone taking on a stern edge. You looked to Wanda for support, but she had the same stubborn glint in her eyes as she looked down at you. 

“We’ll even let you wear that black hoodie of ours that you love so much.” Wanda added with a slight smirk when she saw the slight glow of excitement cross your face. 

You sighed, knowing that you were defeated. You couldn't resist the offer of their cuddles and your favourite hoodie. You nodded reluctantly, and Nat handed you a glass of water with the medicine dissolved in it. 

It tasted awful, and you wrinkled your nose in disgust, but you downed it quickly, not wanting to risk their cuddles being taken away. 

After a few minutes, you started to feel a little drowsy, and Nat and Wanda helped you settle back into the blankets. They snuggled up close to you, and you could feel their warmth seeping into your body, making you feel instantly better. 

"You were right," you murmured sleepily, "I do feel better already." 

Nat and Wanda exchanged smug grins before Wanda leaned in to kiss your forehead, "We know, baby," she whispered, "We always know what's best for you." 

You drifted off to sleep with a contented smile on your face, safe and warm in their embrace, knowing that they would always take care of you, even when you were being stubborn about taking your medicine. 

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[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Younger Gods: I

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader (unnamed)

Dream is protective of his ravens after Jessamy, and he's still bad at listening. The reader finds this out the hard way.

Warnings: extremely mild gore/injury to animal, language, Dream is his own warning

A/N: Playing a little fast and loose with dream physics, but we're just here for a good time, right? I read the comics an age ago, and thought I might as well pop back into the fandom for a quick swim after falling in love all over again via Netflix. Aiming for 5 chapters, but we'll see where this takes us.

*Remember, to like is kind but to comment/repost is divine.

**If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know in the comments!

Chapter 1: Just don't bite me

“How did you get here?”

She stared at the injured raven hopping across her garden like it might open its beak and speak. Give her some answers. It’s eye fixed on her, pinning her even as it fought gravity and pain, flapping with a wing bent the wrong way.

Glossy black feathers hid the blood it left on the long grass. If it didn’t move like something hurt, didn’t struggle to hold up its broken wing, she’d never guess it had crashed into her little world by accident. Which brought her back to the question.

It fluffed the feathers around its neck in an attempt to look bigger, croaking as it shuffled farther away. Soft thunder purred in the clouds, and the steady rain dripped from the tip of the raven’s beak. She held up her hands. Sank low on her heels, as near to the raven’s level as she could reach without falling flat on her belly. If that’s what it took to earn its trust, though, she’d get a little muddy.

For all that it was uninvited, the bird was her guest now, and if she didn’t take care of it, it could never leave. Maybe it would haunt her. Maybe she’d just feel guilty as hell.

“You’re hurt.”

The raven twitched, its head tilting three different ways, studying her expression from varied angles, like it would reveal malicious intent in the right light. He could look all he wanted, but she needed to get him out of the rain.

She started unwinding the thick, knit scar from around her neck, speaking low in an effort to keep the bird calm. “I have something that can help. It’s just a salve, but you’ll heal much faster, and I’m sure you’d like to be on your way as soon as possible. But I’m going to take you inside first, so you can get warm and dry. The rain never really stops.”

Prepared with the folded cloth, she crept forward a few steps, giving the bird time to move away. When it didn’t, she closed the distance and muttered, “Just don’t bite me, okay?”

“No promises, witch,” the raven said.

Her hands stilled an inch away from his feathers. So, he was magic. Magic and rude as fuck.

She spluttered, “I’m not a witch.”

“Yeah?” The raven looked up at the clouds and down at her cottage. “Well, this place is weird. And so are you.”

“It was the best I could do.” She carefully wrapped the scarf around him, mindful of the bad wing – and the beak. “Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards.”

Her first guest, and all he could do was insult all her hard work. He scoffed but held still in his swaddling as she pulled up to her chest and tramped back inside.

It wasn’t her fault it rained all time. Well, technically it was, actually, but she liked it. The water looked beautiful running down the windows, and the cozy fire glowed bright enough to warm a soul when the trees rustled in the wind. With rain hushing over the roof and a whisper of distant thunder to keep her company, she never felt lonely.

Tasteless corvid.

She set him down by the fireplace while she chose a good blanket to craft a makeshift nest. Only when she’d stripped off the scarf and moved him to the softer resting place did she tug off her own drenched sweater, shivering until she found a good replacement. Her wet hair clung to her neck as she pulled a sweater three sizes too big over her head. The sleeves dangled past her fingers, and she shoved them up past her elbows in thoughtless habit.

The bird hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but he still mustered enough faith to thank her. Sort of.

“This is… nice.”

It sounded like an olive branch, so she took it as one. The one room cottage was her haven. Even if it looked small and worn, she found it warm and soft, kind in the way a home ought to be.

“I like to think so.”

She moved to the workbench under the window that looked out to the garden, where she’d been sitting when the raven dropped out of the clouds with an all too human cry. Her fingertips ghosted over herbs and pots and potions as she looked for the little vial she wanted. She only finished it a week ago. It would take three months to make another. But that was alright. No one else really needed it.

When she knelt beside the bird, vial open and ready to drip over his injuries, he clacked his beak at her.

“Not a witch, huh?”

The wing felt so fragile in her hand. She couldn’t let him distract her. “My mother was. I’m… weird.”

“You can say that again.”

“This might hurt.”

“What do you -?” He broke off in a sharp caw, instinctively jerking away as she pulled his bones straight.

“Sorry, sorry. The worst is over now, I promise.”

He had a wonderfully colorful vocabulary for a raven, and he shouted a few rainbows while she wrapped his wing in the best position to heal. The white gauze practically glowed against his onyx plumage, and he looked just a little more pitiable.  

“Sorry,” she repeated.

The bird shook himself, stretching and folding his good wing three times to push away the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “Fucking damn. Teach me to pay attention. Kids and their fucking rocks.” He’d been staring into the fire as he recovered his equilibrium, but once he could pause his cursing, the bird looked back at his host.

“Name’s Matthew. What do I call you, weird girl who isn’t a witch?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

“I was asking for your name, lady.”

“I don’t have one I can give you.”

“That’s not helpful.” He looked around the room, probably on the hunt for something to critique, and although his beak opened, it snapped shut again when he looked back over his shoulder. He stared at her in the firelight, but not at her face. “What happened to your neck, lady?”

Her hand flew up to cover the scars, a landscape of smooth, raised, and sunken marks ringing her throat. She’d forgotten when she took off the scarf. Horror and humiliation twisted in her stomach, and she was wildly aware of being ugly and vulnerable in the same breath. Instead of answering, she rushed back to her closet, pulling out an even longer knit piece than the one she’d wrapped the bird – Matthew – in outside.

He picked up on the subtext, deflating a little and pointedly changing the subject.

“How long will this magic potion of yours take? I need to get back to the Dreaming. My boss is waiting for me.”

The scarf’s tail dropped from numb fingers, one loop short of her goal, left to trail on the ground as she wondered how the fuck her day could get any worse.

“The Dreaming?”

“Yeah. Know of many other realms with talking ravens, lady?”

“No,” she admitted, cursing herself in the privacy of her own thoughts. “It will take a couple days for you to fly again, I think.”

“That’s no good.” Matthew pecked at his bandages, and she rushed over.

“Stop that. You’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t fly with this,” he said, mouth full of gauze.

“You can’t fly without them, either,” she said gently.

Giving up with an enormous sigh, the raven wriggled down into the blanket and glowered through the window at the continuous rain. A little bolt of lighting reflected in his gleaming eye, like an idea sparking to life.

“Your weird little house is pretty close, you know,” he said. “To the Dreaming, I mean. I bet you could walk there.”

“It takes a day to walk in or out.”

“Why?”

“Because I made it that way.”

“Oh, you’re definitely weird.” He paused, like he was finally noticing the blanket nest and the empty vial glittering by the warm flames. When he spoke again, he sounded the slightest bit contrite. “Weird but nice. And I still need your help.”

“I don’t want to go to the Dreaming, Matthew.” She couldn’t bring her voice to carry more than a whisper. She was so afraid of her dreams she didn’t even sleep anymore. Not much. Walking into the fertile fields of the Dream Lord’s imagination…

“You don’t have to go in,” the raven insisted. “Just get me to the gates and I’ll be someone else’s problem. I promise.”

She couldn’t answer. She really didn’t dare. The laws of hospitality urged her to pick up the bird and carry him wherever he wanted to go, and he made it all sound so reasonable, so easy. Just a stroll and a hand over to a friendly face eager to welcome him back. It wasn’t, though. Oh, the walk was fine. She came and went from her hideaway world all the time, but her heart thrummed in terror to even think of the Dreaming. Was she really so close? Her home didn’t feel as safe as it had that morning. The security of the cozy storm left something wanting now. None of this was designed to keep other entities out. It was just… out of the way. On the other hand, if she left the bird – one of Dream’s ravens! – here to recover and his master came for him, it would never be a sanctuary ever again.

Maybe… if she was quick…

“I’ll –” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll try. I’ll walk you to the gates.”

“Thank you.” At least he sounded like he meant it. Lack of gratitude wouldn’t change her mind at this point, but she appreciated it. Walking twelve hours with a rude bird muttering under his breath didn’t sound like the fun kind of adventure.

None of this sounded like the fun kind of adventure.

Fun adventures involved late night diners and questionable life choices after two bottles of wine.

“My master needs me,” Matthew said, like he still needed to prove his point.

That was fine. That was great. Dream would be missing his raven soon. She was tempted to take a faster mode of travel, but she wasn’t sure what that would do to the raven, so she hurried to gather everything she’d need for the walk instead. Tall rainboots, a hooded jacket, and two shawls. She wrapped one around Matthew to keep him warm and tied the other around herself like a sling. With the bird nestled close to her natural warmth, she charged back into the rain. She didn’t even take the time to bank the fire.

Matthew, apparently, decided her rush was entirely for his benefit. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

She paused at the edge of the garden, standing in the gap in the stone wall as she studied the horizon, looking for something to tell her where to go.

“Which way to the Dreaming?”

Matthew fidgeted and jerked his beak at a random point. “There. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, you know?”

She didn’t know or she wouldn’t have asked, but her breath was better saved for walking. Nearly running, she sped through the emerald green grass and low white flowers in the verdant moss. She didn’t look. Didn’t appreciate. Didn’t stop to touch, or pick, or smell. If she had the stamina to run the twelve hours, she would.

Pattering rain sounded louder inside her hood, and the sky broiled with clouds promising a real storm.

Maybe he could hear her heart pounding by his ear, or he finally realized she was moving awfully quickly for someone who didn’t want to go on this trip in the first place. Whatever his inspiration, Matthew dragged their conversation back from the dead to persuade her she’d made the right choice as she forded a narrow stream.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Dream,” he said. “If he’s upset, it will be with me. You’re doing me a favor.” He paused, struck by a new through that almost immediately spewed out his beak. “You’re not old enemies or something, are you?”

“No. I’ve never met him. I’d rather not meet him today.”

Matthew croaked. “Why not?”

Sometimes the truth was the simplest path to peace, and she’d like the bird to shut up for a while. “I have bad dreams. I don’t want to get any closer to them. Thanks.”

“You know, he could do something about that.”

“I don’t like favors.”

“But I’d argue he owes you one.”

“I’d argue that I don’t care.”

More croaking, this time accompanied by rustling from his safely bound wings. She remembered ravens were in the business of knowing things, watching and listening until they could deliver a secret whole and unbroken to their master. Her cagey replies must bother him on some deeper level.

“So why are you doing this? You clearly don’t want to.”

“Because you were hurt. You needed help. And I don’t want your master to come looking for you here.”

He cast incredible side-eye for a creature wrapped in home-knit outerwear strapped to a stranger’s chest.

But at least he shut-up.

It was the perfect landscape for long walks. She’d designed it that way. Gently rolling hills melted into copses of trees just too small to be forests but deep enough to lose the daylight below the tangled canopy. Any other day, she’d enjoy this trek. But now she wondered if she’d ever be able to enjoy it again, knowing which direction the Dreaming lay and how close it pressed to her border.

She slogged up the hills and slipped down the muddy sides, careful not to tumble and crush the fragile bird she carried against her chest. She slipped through the woods, ignoring the sweet smell of old loam and dried leaves. When the heavy rain came down in a curtain as the crested the last hill, she pushed through that, too.

The raven stayed awake for the entire trip. She shaved a full three hours off her usual time, and she reached the end exhausted. She should’ve packed a stimulant. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe a potion. Something. She had to get herself back home after this.

A field stretched to the cusp of oblivion, a black void at the edge of the turf her mind fought not to notice. She walked to the edge, slowing until she came to the brink, and then she had no ideas.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, you’re not a raven,” Matthew said. “I see where we need to go. Just trust me. There’s a path a few feet to the left.”

She shuffled obediently to the side, but she still saw nothing.

“Just take a step,” the bird insisted. “I’ll guide you through it.”

She didn’t want to. Every instinct from every element of her pedigree screamed that this was a Bad Idea. Relying on blind faith and a raven’s intuition might lead her into the Dreaming, but she bet she’d have a long fall someone with wings wouldn’t consider a problem. Some little oversight would swallow her whole, and nightmare would eat her alive, or she’d be trapped in her own night terrors.

“Why don’t I just leave you here?” She could hear the panic in her wobbling pitch, and her trembling hands banished any doubt as she reached for the knot in the sling.

“I thought you didn’t want Morpheus to come looking for me in your weird little bubble realm.”

She closed her eyes. Drew a shaky breath. No, she didn’t want that, but would it be worse than voluntarily stepping into that darkness? The raven couldn’t protect her. He wouldn’t even know what was safe for her, really. He was flying on a lot of assumptions, and she didn’t want to pay the price for his optimistic naivety.

“I don’t know what the void will do to me,” she confessed. “I’ve never actually… touched it.”

“It won’t do anything,” the raven said. “And it’s so thin you won’t even notice. The Dreaming is right there.”

Fucking hell. Her hands seized air, opening and closing like she could snatch courage out of thin air. Damn it all.

She lunged into the thing she didn’t even want to look at, and for the barest moment, she felt it. Nothing. No pulse. No breath. No thought or feeling at all. A gap stretched between past and present, like she’d been snuffed out – or never began to exist in the first place.

Then her momentum carried her through in a boggling mess of physics, and she was somewhere again.

Air punched into empty lungs, and she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees as light, sound, and her own heartbeat returned.

“Whoa! Hey! Watch out for the water!”

Matthew’s shout brought her eyes down, and she saw dark waves lapping at her feet, sucking them into the black sand as the foam tried to climb up and over her rain boots. The fact that sea foam was trying to do anything clued her into the water’s threat, and she darted away with her newly-beating heart in her throat.

“Well done. You see? Not so bad. You’re fine.”

It had been one of the worst experiences in her fucked-up life, and she might’ve told him so if she had the breath. Instead, she barely managed to mutter, “I think I hate you.”

“Nah.”

She stopped to push the last of the void from her lungs, sucking in oxygen like she’d never tasted it before, and the sensation stirred several memories she couldn’t take time to stop and fight. Not on the shores of the Dreaming. Not so close to the Lord of Nightmares. She wrestled them down, threw other thoughts and needs over them like a rug over a stain. Her horrors would have to wait until she slept again, and she planned on putting that off for a long, long time.

When she felt ready and able to move again, she asked, “Where to now?”

“The gates,” he said, like he thought she was the stupid creature alive.

She looked away from her feet and finally noticed the looming doors further down the beach. Silently, she had to agree that she was, in fact, incredibly stupid. They were hard to miss, taller than a skyscraper, carved over in faces, beasts, and scenes she didn’t recognize, gleaming like aged ivory. Beautiful and awe-inspiring in the way an angel or the Milky way inspired reverence and respect. Something a little too vast for her to grasp, but towering over her regardless.

Yeah. Time to get this over with.

As she power-walked across the cold sand, shadowed by the rocks piercing out of the waves, she unknotted the sling and pulled Matthew out of his cocoon.

“This bus has come to the end of its route,” she said. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your trip.”

The raven cackled, trying to stretch his wing in spite of the way she still cradled him. “You find a sense of humor in the void?”

“No, just a sense of relief. Seriously. Watch where you’re flying next time. I won’t have another healing salve like a gave you for several months, so if you do this again, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” He was all but straining forward in her hands, eager to get home, to complete his mission and reassure his master that all was well. “You sure you don’t want to meet my master? Or Lucienne?”

It didn’t matter she didn’t know who Lucienne was. She didn’t need to meet any more dreams – or servants of dreams. “Very.”

“So, you’re just going to ding-dong-ditch Dream of the Endless?”

“Yup.”

“Suit yourself.”

The sand made it harder to keep her pace, sliding away under her heels, sapping her strength as she hurried to drop her guest off at his front door. Waves of power rolled down from the high wall, and she felt trapped against the tide of Dream’s domain and the dark ocean lapping up the shore behind her. Everything looked grand and stark. She didn’t belong with her green boots and her rain-slicked jacket. The hood had fallen back, and a damp strand decided to stick on her cheek. With her hands full of bird, she had no way to pull it off.

Cold, wet, disheveled.

Tired.

Afraid.

She was ready for this adventure to end.

“How are you going to get back through the void?” the bird asked.

She shook her head, amazed. “You just thought to ask that? Never mind. I have a shortcut.”

“What kind of shortcut? Why did we just walk for nine hours in the rain?”

She plucked at the end of the second shawl, the one she used to keep him warm on that nine-hour trip through the storm. Such gratitude.

“Because I didn’t know what it would do to you.”

“I can survive the void, lady, you think your shortcut’s tougher than that?”

How far away was the damn gate? Would this beach never end?

“All that matters,” she panted, “is that you’re going home. I’m going home.” She turned the bird in her hands so they were eye-to-eye. “And we will never have to see each other again.”

Sounding more human than ever, the bird tutted, but whatever he wanted to say was swallowed in a sudden, sharp wind.

The austere stillness consumed itself in a rage, lifting black sand and sea spray into an impenetrable haze. One second, she could see the gate. The next, she could barely see three feet in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the sand with one arm, she instinctively tucked the bird close, bending over him protectively. The grit gave the wind claws, and it lashed her bare flesh raw.

What have you done with my raven?

The question pressured her from all sides, a crushing, physical weight ringing in her ears as it forced her to cower in on herself. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Matthew squawked and fluttered in her arms, flopping free with half a scarf still wrapped around him, tangled in his claws. “Sir, wait! Sir!”

The raven’s call settled the hurricane, but the overwhelming pressure remained. The lingering effect of the voice pressed against her soul like a death knell as a figure gathered itself, standing between the two travelers and the gate. The raven struggled towards the tall, dark shape, and she all but slapped herself in the face in her fight to get the dust out of her eyes, nose, and mouth.

Matthew called the newcomer sir.

She was peering up at Dream of the Endless.

He knelt to accept the bird, face dark as a nightmare. Long, pale fingers explored the broken wing. When they pulled away, a few rusty crumbs of blood clung to the pads, and eyes burning with angry stars lifted to pierce her.

He asked again, “What have you done with my raven?”

This time the voice was a voice, not a force of nature. He sounded like smoke and sand, deep and sure as the ocean at her back. That voice might scour her away like a rough patch in his perfect Dreaming, and nothing in his tone said she was welcome.

Now she felt like the raven – a little bird with a hoarse cry and hollow bones all too easy to snap.

“You hurt something of mine.” A snarl carved into his face, and even as Matthew squawked for his lord’s attention, the Dream Lord reached out.

His shadow stretched long and dark from his feet, against the light. It crept towards her, darker than the black shore, and she stumbled over her own feet as she backed away, landing hard on her hands.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Her voice was long gone. It fled and left her to die whimpering and pathetic, the traitor. Scrambling back as the shadow approached, she shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

Cawing and flapping, Matthew shouted, “Sir, stop!”

The shadow slowed, just for an instant, and she leapt to her feet. Tears burning her eyes from fear and grit, she ran three steps back, never daring to take her eyes off the threatening Endless. She clawed into her own mind, grabbing for the half of herself she preferred to leave wandering the sky over her cottage. A rumble drew Dream’s eyes to the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the Dreaming, and she saw his eyes flick back to her just as the lightning struck.

Her summoned bolt traced down to catch her up in a flash of burning light. The crackle was almost unbearable, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dream’s shadow was still snaking after her.

She wasn’t there when the shadow reached the place she’d stood. The lightning blast reached through her to the ground and then back up into the clouds. It took her with it.

An echoing strike deposited her in the cottage garden.

She fell to her hands and knees as the power zapped away into the sky. Mud squished up between her fingers, and she shuddered in place, too busy shaking to move. Rain rolled down her face, cleaning the salt of sweat, tears, and sea. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy after weightless, electric travel, and she bowed to the animal urge to just freeze in place for a while. She needed to think. Maybe then she could remember how to stand.

An Endless wanted her dead. Dream, no less. She had more reason than ever to stay awake. Maybe she could find a trick to avoid sleep forever.

But his raven knew where she lived, and it wasn’t a long trip.

She needed to run.

Chapter 2

[makeyoumine69]

Small lil blurb about alpha patty and omega reader

It was time for you to go into heat; you knew oatrick would most likely be upset with you if you messed with the sheets but you desided to do it anyway.

You began to push and knead the sheets and blankets untill you formed your nest, adding pillows you finally felt okay.. until Patrick came home from work.

He walked into the bedroom and stopped "Darling.... why is the bed rui- P-Patty please, later; im in heat right now hurry and fuck me already."

Hello, my dear babe! It's been a while since I wrote A/B/O fics, but I hope you like it! 💗

— [MASTERLIST] 🪓

The moment Patrick stepped over the threshold of his apartment, a sweet, intoxicating scent hit his nose and made his blood boil in his veins. Frowning in disappointment, he cursed to himself as he realized that you went into the heat while he was away. Nervously, Bateman rushed into his bedroom to find you lying on his bed in a sort of nest, surrounded by several battles of water and ice. 

"Darling -"

"Alpha, you came," you breathed out, feeling so exhausted from the burning flame under your skin. "N-need you so much."

"I know, baby," Patrick took off his jacket and came closer to kneel on the bed next to you. "C'mere, (Y/N)," he smiled as you obeyed so eagerly and pressed his large palm to your cheek. "It's all right, I'll take care of you, my little one."

Tenderly, Bateman left a small kiss on your lips, his strong arms now worshipping your shivering body. With a soft purr, you nuzzled against the scent gland on his wrist to calm yourself a little, and it helped, but not for long.

"It h-hurts, Patrick," you almost cried as the walls of your womb spasmed around nothing. "Please, Alpha."

Patrick pecked at your temple several times while he was undressing, his heart cramping from seeing you in such pain. Breathing heavily, you cocked your head to the side, allowing him to suck on the mark he left on your neck, feeling the tension running from your lower abdomen up to your chest, forcing you to tremble uncontrollably.

"Mmm, my sweet Omega, I'm gonna fuck you really good," Bateman whispered in a raspy voice before you heard an unzipping sound. "Do you want me to put a whelp inside of you, love?"

"Y-Yes, yes, Alpha ... please, breed me," you whimpered, getting down on all fours and presenting yourself to him. "Take all of me, Patrick."

His ferocious growl sent chills down your spine, but then you almost choked as you felt his firm body covering you from above, his powerful hands seeming to touch you everywhere.

"A-aww, mmm," you put a pillow under your head, bending over and spreading your legs even wider. "You're so strong Alpha, mmm and so big, ah!"

You squealed as his sharp fangs nibbled the delicate skin of your shoulder blade as he moved down to your loin, leaving a wet trail of sloppy kisses. Huffing, Patrick planted a visual hickey on one of your buttocks, then groped both of them to open you up and slide his tongue into your twitching cunt. 

"A-aahh, y-yes, aah...please!" You were already a whimpering mess, bucking your hips towards his face.

"Mmm, you taste so delicious, little one, so fucking delicious," he slapped your ass and wrapped his hand around your hip to reach your throbbing clit. "Your pussy is so tight, darling... mmm."

Bateman growled against your burning flesh as he lapped greedily at your feverish cleft, drinking in your sweet juices and stimulating your clit at the same time. You were trembling like a leaf, moaning pitifully into the pillow and wrinkling the soaked sheets from the delightful rapture, and as if that was not enough, Patrick pushed two fingers into your dripping pussy, finding your G-spot almost instantly.

"I'm ... I'm cumming, aawww!" You jerked and clawed at your skin as your inner channel began to spasm.

Bateman didn't stop pumping your pussy even for a second while his soft finger pads played with your oversensitive little tip.

God, this was something beyond reality.

"Good girl," he mused, kissing your hip before cleaning his fingers by licking off your flavour. "Do you want me to go soft or hard?"

His sudden question made your heart skip a beat and you looked at him with pure devotion in your sparkling eyes. "Take me just the way you want, Alpha."

You could hear a low growl escaping his half-open lips as his nostrils flushed. "Ahhh, you don't even know what are you asking for …"

Harshly, he pressed down on your loin to make you bend over even lower, causing you to cry out, but then you had to hold yourself back from screaming as you felt his taut tip prodding against your extremely drenched entrance. 

"Alpha!" Your high-pitched whine echoed through the room as Patrick buried himself inside your pulsating cunt, his beefy girth brushing against all the right spots in your throbbing womb.

Bateman growled in response, gripping your hips almost painfully as he began to ram into you with merciless effort, your legs about to give out from such a hard assault. Your moans turned into pitiful cries as his dick was so huge, drilling into your tight hole so ruthlessly, you could feel your saliva running down your chin, dampening the pillow you were desperately clutching like a lifeline.

"Feeling better, huh?" Patrick chuckled and spanked your butt, fucking you harder with each thrust. "My little Omega likes to be torn apart by the big Alpha's cock ... Fuck, what a slutty girl I've got."

"Mmhm, yeah ... it feels so good, aaahh, your dick is so b-big, aaaaw," you tried your best to keep talking, but it was getting harder by the second, especially when he pinned you flat against the bed and put a pillow under your lower belly. "A-aww! Please, mmm, GOSH, ALPHA!"

With a satisfied grin on his face, Bateman leaned onto his fists, covering you with his huge frame, and slammed into you from above, pushing his full length in and out of you, your slickness running shamelessly down your thighs.

"Shit, you made a fucking swimming pool in my bed, honey," his mocking voice only added fuel to the fire. "Mmm, I like to see your tight little hole struggling to take my huge dick, f-fuck!"

"Mmm, please ... a-ww, claim me with your seed, Alpha, I wanna carry your pups, p-please!" 

"Oh yeah?" He encircled your neck and forced you to look at him. "You want my cum?"

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt his knot swell in your inner channel, widening you from the inside and making you feel numb. 

"A-aaah, yes ... yes ... yessss," you hiccupped each time he rocked into you as deep as he could, still holding your neck and pressing his forehead against yours. “I b-beg you!”

"Arhg... you belonged to me, Omega."

With these words he bent down to bite your scent gland, sinking his sharp teeth into your soft skin and tasting your blood as you began to bleed. Grunting, Bateman unloaded his fertile cum into your pussy until he was spent, plugging it with his engorged knot. Sobbing, you took every drop of his cum like an obedient girl as you didn't even dare to move under him, feeling so small and fragile beneath this beast, but he was your beast after all.

[sneezeshame]

someone laid up in a large, overstuffed lay-z-boy recliner, head rested on pillows and body wrapped in blankets pulled from their bed to make them more comfortable as they start to battle some kind of monstrous cold. it hit them like a truck just the day before, and now their bagged, heavy-lidded eyes are glazed as they stare blankly at the TV, breathing through their constantly parted chapped lips. they've crammed tissues up their flaming red nostrils in an attempt to just lie motionless for a while without having to tend to their stuffy, streaming nose, but every so often their breathing becomes heavier and their eyes wince closed as they hitch, pulling out their nose plugs and readying a thick wad of tissues from a box they've been pulling from for the past day. their sneezes are heavy, thick, and wet, and end with a flurry of sickly sniffling and a long, tentative nose blow, followed by a round of chesty coughs and a soft, stuffy groan from their parted lips.

they're very pale, they clearly dont want to do anything or even talk much at all, and they shiver under the blankets and ask their partner for an ice pack for the splitting headache they've developed. the expired cold medicine from the cabinet doesnt seem to make a dent, and when it comes for another round of nyquil their partner clocks their temperature at 101, creeping up towards 102. the sickie was wrong, and it isn't just a cold (as was obvious to their partner, who's never seen a cold this bad); in fact they're actually on day 1 or 2 of the flu, and a bad case of it. they're going to be spending the next 4-6 days slowly shuffling between their bed and the couch and recliner as their partner takes the guest bedroom, and it's going to get worse before it gets better.

the sickie takes this news better than anticipated, now feeling too sick to argue, and only sniffles miserably and says okay, then asks for something for the newly-sprung aches and pains all over their body.

"I think you're past the asprin we have," their partner says. "I might have to run out and get something a bit stronger for this."

"...Ogay..." the sickie mumbles, and sniffles. the first pricklings of chills are running up and down their body under their pajamas. "...cobe bagg sood...I dodd feel good add all..."

their partner leaves, and the sickie resumes staring blankly at the TV while they sniffle and cough, and their eyelids droop. they hadn't felt this sick in years, and while their partner had gotten their flu shot, they hadn't bothered. they had the feeling they would need to retreat to bed for a bit once their partner returned, just so they could lay motionless in the dark for a bit with their eyes closed and an icepack on their head, but they also didn't want to lose any warmth they had trapped in their sick nest in the lay-z-boy, or aggravate any aches more than they had to; maybe they would just stay put. but they would have to lay down in bed for the night.

the night was going to be rough, and they already feel horrible. they feel ten times worse than they had yesterday. they feel bad for having their partner do things for them. they feel miserable, like they're teeming with viruses, and they feel like their body is slowly melting into a heavy, mucusy blob of flu in their living room, unable to do anything but cough and sneeze and sleep propped up in the recliner, and indeed this last scenario is what they dream they are when they dose off and start into soft, congested snoring around the tissues they've stuffed up their nostrils, waiting for their partner to come home.

[slothgiirl]

nesting (xiao x reader)

1.5k. established relationship. fluff. suggestive but nothing explicit.bird xiao traits tho i didnt lean hard enough into it i dont think so mb ill try again soon.

The first time it happens there’s frost on the ground when you wake up. You have to force the window open. The frost cracks. You wince, half expecting to have broken the window. 

Cold air invades the already drafty flat at the top of Wangshu Inn. 

You cross your arms over your chest. The cotton robe did little to protect from the start of the winter season. Snezhnaya did have a monopoly on snow. All too soon snow would cover the Liyue landscape. There were only a handful of snow days and the sun melted most of it away by noon, but you still shivered as the sun rose.

You strike the flint, restarting the fire in the wood stove. Xiao must have put it out accidentally. It was a common occurrence with his anemo fuelled comings and goings. You didn’t want to say anything, worried your lover would take it the wrong way. This was new. He’d only just asked you to move in with him.

You rub your hands together. 

No, you would simply relight the fire. 

Striking the flint again, you light the incense, dispelling any lingering demonic energies. The smell of herbs and resin was familiar by now. Xiao had taught you the ritual, the ancient Liyue words to recite, to keep yourself free of his taint. 

You sigh.

You can see your breath. 

The ink would have to be warmed for you to work. 

You pull on your warmest trousers, think about purchasing some meters of wool from the Mondstadt traders to sew a warmer set, and set out a fresh new sheet of paper. Your calligraphy was well liked in Liyue Harbor. The smooth lines were auspicious for merchants most worried after Morax’s passing.

The ink was smooth liquid once more. Lately, your head has been filled with tales of Skybracer. You flip through your books, looking for a passage that speaks to you when a gust of wind enters the room atop Wangshu Inn. 

“You’re back,” you smile, knowing it was Xiao. “I didn’t even feel you come in last night.” 

“I did not want to disturb you,” your lover sets a knit blanket over your shoulders, “while I have little use for rest, I would not deprive you of sleep.” Xiao carefully places a flawless chunk of mystic ore on your desk. It sparkles in the early morning sun. 

“It’s pretty.” You’d never use it to enhance anything. A gift from Xiao, you’d treasure it forever. 

“The shine caught my eye,” Xiao admits, ducking his head down, “was your sleep undisturbed?” He worried his nightmares would leak into your dreams. 

“I still think you could’ve woken me up.” You snort when he traces the marks on your collar bones. “We mortals can take naps Adeptus Xiao,” you tease, raking your fingers through his hair. “And I never mind when it’s you.”

Xiao scowls, “who else would it be?” 

You kiss his jaw, “my alarm clock.” You set your work aside, focusing the sum of your attention on your lover. “Where did you get this,” you ask, feeling the heft of the cotton used, the intricate knit. All knits were intercrate when you’d given up on knitting entirely. 

“Do you like it,” he asks softly, taking your hands in his. 

“Mhm.” You plant a kiss against his brow. 

“The surge in demonic activity in Cuijue Slope has coincided with an increase in temple offerings,” Xiao explains. “Given the change in weather. . .” he trails off. 

“Are you staying long,” you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck, intent on keeping him to yourself. You had gone far in teaching Xiao the benefits of cuddling even if he didn’t need to sleep. 

“No.” Xiao’s amber eyes met yours. He wraps his arm around your waist.

“Mm,” you smile, knowing you’d won. Then you kiss him, welcoming the warmth of his lips against yours. 

-- 

You help Verr Goldet spread salt all along the ramp up to Wangshu Inn. The bags of salt were heavy and it was hard not to feel like a freeloader when you didn’t know the specifics of Xiao’s arrangement with the Innkeeper and her husband. 

“There,” Verr Goldet wipes her hands on her apron, “that should do it.”

“I’d hate to fall from this far up,” you look over the railing. The frost took longer and longer to melt with each passing day. 

“It’s a good thing the Traveler took up our commissions to fix the stairs,” the woman agrees. “Smiley Yanxiao made chicken and dumpling soup if you’d like a bowl.”

“You are too kind Auntie,” you address her warmly. Everything else felt too cold, this was the best form of address for her you decide on. 

“Come now, you just helped me lug salt up and down five stories. That’s at least worth soup. It’d have to pay 10,000 mora for the adventure’s guild to do it.”

“Well,” you laugh, “when you put it that way.”

You have dinner with the staff of Wangshu Inn. It’s past midnight when you finally make your way up to your home. Your home with Xiao. You have to take a deep breath when you linger on that for too long, waiting outside your door because it was true and your heart felt like it wanted to explode from happiness. Your’s and Xiao’s home. 

You step inside.

It wasn’t anything special. You doubted the most pious of Liyue imagined an Adeptus to reside in a studio cluttered with jars of ink, a tiny stove, and your clothes carelessly tossed into a pile on the trunk, and yet there Xiao was, fluffing up pillows on the bed in a simple act of domesticity that had you swooning. His spear was set against the wall, Yaksha mask on his belt and he was arranging the blankets that had seemingly appeared out of thin air. 

“Hey,” you set your shoes by the door, changing into your house slippers. “have you been waiting long?”

Xiao shakes his head, focused on arranging the pillows. “I do not mind. My duties are solitary in nature.” 

You feed more wood into the stove. The thing was well built, filling the room despite being the size of your night stand. 

“Will you join me,” Xiao sits up in bed on his knees, red dusting his cheeks. He could be so bashful for an adeptus that regularly slayed demons. You loved the fact the he flustered easily even when he’d fucked you on the grass. 

“I’d love to,” you hang up your jacket, “will you stay with me?” 

He doesn’t answer right away, waiting for you to crawl into bed with him.

You discard your sweater and trousers, adding more to the pile on your trunk. Laundry day was fast approaching. “Do you want me to make you anything to eat?” 

Xiao shakes his head. “There’s no need.” 

You slide under the covers, sighing against the plush blankets. There were furs at the foot of the bed that your toes grazed when you stretched out. The pillow covers must be silk you think, tapping Xiao’s arm, “lay down with me.” 

He lays down next to you, cupping your cheek with his hand. “I am glad you are here.” 

“So will you stay?” There’s so much raw love and fondness for you in Xiao’s eyes as you stroke your hands over his chest, feeling up his muscular arms. You wanted nothing more than to feel his naked body against yours. You wanted Xiao, wanted to feel him inside you. 

“Mm,” Xiao tips your chin back, kissing the side of your throat. “That was my intention when I asked you to lay with me.”

Your body flushes with heat. You doubt Xiao said the innuendo intentionally, but you don't care when he nips your bottom lip with his teeth. 

You’re greedy. 

You kiss him back readily, pulling his body flush against yours, canting your hips, rubbing against his leg shamelessly. You kiss him, stroking his tongue with yours. 

Xiao leans back, all puffed up, pleased in a way that’s new to you. 

You lay your head back, catching your breath, already thinking of new ways to entice him to lay with you. To fuck you. To make love to you, whatever so long as it meant having Xiao. 

“That can’t be comfortable,” you pull on his gloves, “to sleep in,” you allude to his usual warrior’s gear. 

“Your intentions are transparent,” Xiao huffs, sliding his thigh between your legs and you know that he’ll spend the next few hours making love to you.

You slip your hand under his shirt, “I love you.”

“As I love you,” he whispers softly against your cheek.

--

Xiao hangs crystal cores from the ceiling. 

They twinkle in the night like your own private stars. 

Xiao sets chunks of Cor Lapis and Noctilucous Jade on the windowsill as if jewelers didn’t pay a small fortune for raw gemstone this pristine. There’s slices of bright blue crystal chunk on the wall next to your line paintings that alchemists would covet for their potions. 

But it doesn’t click for you until you leaf through a book on Dihua Marsh, painting abstract cranes for practice on brown recycled paper. It doesn’t click for you until you read the description on the finches and their nests that you remember what type of illuminated beast Xiao is.

[z3nitsusgf]

I think that homelander would FULLY take advantage of a reader who can’t sleep without cuddling something/someone but is to scared and prides to hug him so they make do with a pillow

“Hm” homelander grins at successfully getting you to depend on him to complete a task as easy as sleeping relishing in how you feel on top of him. He ultimately decides this is how he wants to sleep from now on…💕

The moon is a honey-melon color, haloed in a thick sweet light that drips in the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse. It's quiet, the only sounds coming from both of your breathing. Outside, droplets of rain cascade down the glass of Homelander's bedroom, dew drops of golden light that glitter. August seeps through like ripened cherries, drowning under the swelter of a summer night.

You don’t want to admit that the sound of his rhythmic heartbeats is comforting. That being wrapped in his arms is the safest you've felt in a long time, that it's not as nauseating as you'd hoped it'd be. His chest is warm and pillowy. He runs hot, probably the V that keeps him that way. You find yourself leaning into it more than you'd like. Maybe, this is you finally giving into Stockholm syndrome, at least - that's what you hope it is.

When you inhale, he is all that fills your nostrils. Homelander smells of cardamom, sandalwood, and something sickly irony. Blood, perhaps. The thick laden liquid that has soaked his way into his skin and permanently left him stained, no matter how much he tries to wash it off. You don't think he owns anything else, no normal clothes to lounge in.

He sows his fingers through your hair, carding through it till they snag and he's murmuring something about how it's a "rat's nest". The other rubs the expanse of your back, dipping and tracing along your shoulder blades and the dimples of your lower back. He would melt the two of you together if he could, knit your bones with his, and conjoin your hearts as one.

He knows it's somewhat wrong, to have you rely on him asleep and awake. To manipulate you into needing him even while you've gone to bed. But what's a bit of fantasy feeding if it gets you results? You've been sleeping so poorly, tossing and turning every night even though he offers his help.

All it takes is a bit of a sleeping pill to get you softened up for him. It's not a bad thing if you're finally resting and with him no less. It's his duty to make sure you're happy, that you're healthy.

You're nodding off, eyes lidding, and sleep is hanging over your head like an inviting promise. Your head is foggy, smeared thickly in lavender oil and vintage patchouli. Your hands unknowingly cling to his torso, splaying up to his ribs and feeling him breathe under your palms, each exhale of altered carbon. He shivers at the contact, yearns for it.

"Tired?" He asks softly, his voice strained to a whisper. You hum back, hardly even awake. Muttering something intelligible, something he can't make out. You're slow, thick and syrupy like honey. The most calm you've ever been around him. You can't help it.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. "Sleep tight."

Homelander smiles to himself, hugging you tighter to his chest. Your weight is practically nonexistent to him, more of a warm blanket than a human. It's nice, sweet even. He minds his strength, knows if he squeezes too tightly you'll end up like the nurses from when he was a child.

He knows when you've fallen asleep, the way your heartbeat slows and you nuzzle your cheek into his chest, just under his chin. He could cry, he thinks. It's a flurry of emotions that well in his body. The sinking like stones over the Hudson. You're filling every part of his senses; the comfortable weight, the scent, the way he can feel you drift off into that hazy headspace of dreams.

He's never known what it's like to fall asleep content, without the ache in his chest. You've relieved him of that. And tomorrow you will wake, well-rested, and stretch like a cat lazily bathed in the light of the morning sun.

All thanks to him.

[whumpitisthen]

Perfect Present

Small little cw: this one has a pretty long noncon undressing scene! I never write nsfw, but this one can definitely be interpreted as suggestive, so just a heads up!

“I never expected to be blessed with such a sweet little present.”

He is numb. The air burns as he is carried past the thick, decorated wooden door. His shivering does not ebb from the sudden warmth, only worsens at the stranger’s words.

It's hard to concentrate on anything but the daunting prominence of approaching death squeezing his heart. Though he lacks the energy to act upon his fear in any meaningful way, he understands that he is in more than a little danger. The snowstorm that had caught him out in the middle of the woods could not have come at a more inopportune time; in a place where the nearest sign of civilisation was kilometres away. The distance would have been no issue if the skies remained clear, but the freezing winds cut through his coat so efficiently that he can only pray his fingers will thaw out in one piece.

“God knows how much longer you would have survived if I hadn't found you when I did.” — They found him collapsed in the snow, too exhausted to keep stumbling on towards what he hoped was the edge of the forest. His skin blue, his boots drenched, his hair frozen stiff from his own sweat; it's a miracle he hadn't fallen unconscious. — “But there is no need to worry now. I will take good care of you.”

It smells like pine and sugar. The walls are alight in colour, reflecting in the pond of his own glassy eyes. Classical music floats from the left as they pass by. He floats along in the arms of the stranger bringing him deeper into his home. In front of the fireplace, he is laid under a marvelous silver pine standing proud and fearless of the flames licking at its leaves from afar. The rug under him is soft, heavenly so.

“There you are. That feels nice, doesn't it? Those frozen little fingers will melt in no time.” — The stranger covers him in thick blankets, providing pillows to lean on as he coos these reassurances to him. — “I will go look for replacement clothes. We can't have you stay in that drenched, muddy coat, now can we?”

He does not wonder why the stranger seems to linger beside him before turning to leave. He does not mind the hand that cards through his hair affectionately, only happy for the heat that passes onto his scalp for a moment. He doesn't see the fond expression on his face, the way those eyes rake over his body slowly, as if taking in a wonderful, serene landscape. He sees no wrong just yet, focused only on his one goal of keeping his own heart beating.

The stranger returns with clean clothing not three minutes later, setting it aside onto the couch for now. With his blanket covered back to him, he shivers incessantly, gasping. Staring into the flames becomes painful, the heat forcing his eyelids closed against his will.

Removing the soaked through boots and pants should be priority in this situation, but the stranger finds himself enamoured by the weakness and vulnerability he shows as he lies there helplessly, curling tighter and tighter into himself. It is awfully difficult to tear his eyes away from those quivering blue lips. One thought comes and passes, offering to keep his clothes on for a while longer, just to prolong his beautiful suffering. Then another, more devilish one supplies him with a darker idea upon witnessing his fragile neck peeking out from under all that fabric — perhaps undressing him would be more satisfying in the end. The urge to peel back every layer coating his divine skin slowly, meticulously revealing flesh to be explored in earnest nests inside him and refuses to leave. Truly, unwrapping a present is half the fun after all.

Perhaps there will be no need for replacement clothes either way.

Wordlessly, he kneels by the bundle of trembling cloth, pulling him closer lightly. With a hand on his shoulder, he turns him onto his back, taking hold of those icy hands grasping the cover like it is trying to escape them. His present looks up at him with wide, terrified eyes; soon that fear will be converted to a more special, deeper kind of fear. He will not be nearly as afraid of the cold as he will be of the stranger.

Those eyes become a little wider when pulls away the blanket, even wider when he straddles him and starts unbuttoning his coat with an eager expression. It takes a couple buttons for his present to understand that this is not right, wriggling and whimpering quietly, confused. He becomes nervous when the buttons run out and his coat is pulled away to reveal nothing but a flimsy dress shirt underneath. It isn't even fully buttoned up, leaving a prominent collarbone exposed under the dishevelled, wrinkled material.

The stranger tuts at him disapprovingly. — “So careless...”

The pause is a little too long for comfort, passed by as the man takes in his form before he returns to unwrapping his gift, a warm knuckle caressing the naked skin as his hands move to the next button. Even through the exhaustion, confusion, terror and pain, the cold mess of limbs understands how dangerous it is to be undressed in such a way in a stranger's home.

“S-S-Stop, p-, stop, no…” — Those blue fingertips come into view as they try to push numbly at the stranger's hands, squirming uncomfortably. He cannot feel if their hands meet at all, but he can hear the slaps as he jerks his hands into the other’s arms and chest frantically, kicking out and twisting.

The man looks at him a while, not bothered in the least. He just smiles at his desperate, yet pathetic efforts at fighting him, fighting back just as weakly by repositioning his head and wrists faster than he could comprehend with his dizzy mind, but letting up right after to watch those limbs fly around like useless flesh worms. Once the struggle becomes more annoying than entertaining however, he simply takes those wild arms and pins them under his knees, securing them in place so he can continue unboxing in peace.

At the miserable grunt that he makes once he realises how trapped he really is, the stranger only hushes him, — “be good. I am only trying to help you, can't you see? You are soaked.”

He had to use so much energy just to force his useless, heavy limbs to do something, but it only amused the man. He feels the shirt open button by button, powerless to do absolutely anything about it. The violent shivering only worsens once his naked skin touches the air, goosebumps rising at the feeling. It's warm, but cold at the same time, burning all the same.

The stranger’s fingers running down his torso bring tears of frustration and humiliation to his eyes, his face contorting into the very definition of misery. His struggles renew when that hand reaches under the shirt, circling around to feel his now swiftly beating heart, while the other cups the side of his stomach bouncing up and down with each of his panicked gasps for air. He cannot bear it any longer once the hand lifts from his chest up all the way under his chin, taking hold of his neck.

“Don’t, d-d-d-don’t, pl-ease, please, I-I-I-I, I c-can’t, I can't —”

“You don't need to. I will take care of you.”

That only makes him sob in earnest. A broken no is all that makes it out before he devolves into fearful whimpers and cries, thoroughly overwhelmed from going through multiple life-threatening crises at the same time. The grip tightens ever so slowly, experiencing the way his neck twitches and pulses, the frigid, pale blue skin stretching over an artery pumping dangerously cool blood hysterically under cruel fingertips caressing it. It's hard to tell through the tears covering his vision in confusing sparkles, but he can definitely feel the intense attention of the man glaring down at him in morbid fascination.

His hand never grows tight enough to strangle him, but it gets very close. Laboured, wheezing breaths already coming out forced now turn even smaller, just a little harsher, thinner, just enough to start hurting from the warm pressure. Once it reaches that point however, it returns to simply lying on top of his neck, an almost pleasant coat over him to slowly warm him through.

The stranger pauses for a moment, considering his thoughts. He makes a decision unbeknownst to his present, and moves to continue removing his clothes instead. His hand slips from feeling up his neck towards his shoulder, helping him out of the coat and the shirt at the same time, revealing even more damp, icy flesh underneath. Skin contact between the two of them brings goosebumps in its wake, as if the lost man's very body itself was flaring up to stretch into the warmth of the other. Scary, dangerous, uncomfortable and wrong, yet so pleasant, necessary, and enchanting at the same time. He needs that warmth to stay alive, but that hand will never let him go once it truly latches onto him.

The fire crackles too loud to hear his thoughts over. Focusing on anything but what is being done to him is a herculean task, only overpowered by the endless ice encircling his lungs. The more naked he feels, the less he fights, with his shoulders now bare and free, and his arms slender and fragile and useless all the same. His boots are pulled off him with little issue, soaked through socks following behind. It feels equally awful, yet relieving to be rid of the heavy, water clogged clothes. A towel is given to him then, the man noticing his shamefully weak arms hugging himself desperately, which then hold onto the towel even more fiercely, laying it over as much of his body as he can. It provides minimal warmth and privacy, but is more than welcome.

His pants are being unbuttoned then, and he kicks out in horror instinctively. He doesn't like this, he doesn't like this! — “P-P-Please, I can, I c-can —”

“No,” — he is swiftly cut off by the stranger, a tone not unkind.

He curses his heavy, frozen tongue for stuttering and failing so miserably, just like the rest of his body. He curses the weather that caught up to him so suddenly, that caused the hypothermia and weakness, the insistent winds that thirsted him into submission, sucking all power out of him. He curses the man most of all, for finding him, for taking him without so much as a question, for bringing him to a warm log cabin, to a lovely little home dressed in glimmer and blown through by an aroma hard to resist, for laying him in front of the fireplace, telling him all the while that he will help, that he is saved, and that he is such a lucky man to be found by him. He curses the stranger for lying to him, and taking advantage of him, and pulling unbothered on his trousers until he is fully naked, in a stranger's home, in the middle of a quiet, snowy nowhere, frozen to near death and sobbing in petrifying fear, forced to endure powerlessness and lay under the stranger as he does as he pleases with him.

The towel quickly shoves downward as his only shield against peering, curious eyes. He begs, though he can barely manage to utter out a single word understandable through his unfeeling lips. He keeps begging, he keeps resisting, he keeps squirming and whining and crying and clawing, but he is simply not a threat. It would not take more than a gentle pair of large, soft hands to peel away his own from his body, bringing the towel with. The stranger pauses again, letting his gaze and touch wander his body, touching just over his navel with such gentleness and hunger that he can barely hold himself from screaming as loud as he can.

Luckily, he stops soon enough, mercifully not dipping any lower to feel him up any more. The unnerving silence — or lack of conversation, to be precise, as the stranger's present is more than vocal about how much he hates this — is finally broken, the man leaning over him rousing himself free from this terrifying, lustful, obsessive mood he put himself into with a couple blinks. His eyes return to focusing on him as a person; as opposed to drinking in his body as a gift. — “There. That wasn't so hard now, was it?”

He takes the dry, heavenly soft towel and bundles him in it with care, lifting and manhandling him into a sitting position looking towards the fire. Another towel comes soon after, massaging his scalp as the stranger begins rubbing his hair dry. It is uncomfortable, but at the moment, he is only glad he is no longer being straddled on the ground, now keeping his knees high up under his chin and his body well hidden under the layers of cover.

The change in mood is not lost on the stranger. — “This feels good, doesn't it? Much better, without all that fighting. You are safe with me.”

“N-N-N-No, I-I’m, I-I-I’m not, I'm not…”

“Shhhh…” — the man shushes him again, sitting down behind him to hug him close, — “it's hard to speak, I know. The shivering will die down soon enough. No need to force it. I know.”

In a sudden all-consuming anger that flares up in his chest at the condescending tone, he jerks backwards to headbutt the stranger holding him hostage in his embrace, in his house, getting way, way too comfortable with his helplessness. It's infuriating; not only his pathetic state of vulnerability making it impossible to even do anything on his own, but that the stranger thinks he can just do anything he wants, that he can just take him and touch him and mock him and talk over him like this, while knowing fully well that the only reason he is still unharmed is because his ‘gift’, as he so creepily put it, is still thawing out from a snowstorm. If they were on equal footing, he would already be unconscious from how hard he'd have pummelled him as soon as he started taking his clothes off.

Unfortunately, even through the fury that takes hold of him, his movements are sluggish at best, and the man easily dodges him both times he tries to fight back this way. Even worse, he laughs, and only holds him closer, squeezing the breath out of him with one arm, and holding his head snapped back over his shoulder with the other, effectively pinning him arched over himself. — “Simmer down, sweetness. You'll hurt yourself.”

He only struggles for a small few seconds, then swiftly runs out of energy. His anger remains, slowly melting like a candle, eating itself alive. — “Wh-Why won't, w-won’t you let me go? Please, just, j-j-just sto-pp t-touching me!”

The list of the stranger's creepy, condescending mannerisms just keeps growing ever longer. This time, he pets his hair affectionately, humming a sympathetic, yet disapproving sound. — “I am not letting you go because you need help. You are shivering like a leaf, poor thing. You can barely move. Barely talk. You cannot take care of yourself.”

“I can, I c-can!”

“No, you can not.” — The facade of gentle kindness slips just a tad, his voice, while still pleasant, cuts with an edge that wasn't there before. There is a finality to his words, almost parental; however, the danger feels much more intimidating than just a usual scolding. The rumble of the stranger's tone right next to his ear doesn't help either. — “Be patient. I will show you how well I can take care of you, you'll see. I am very generous. It's the least I can do, after all.”

It takes an indescribable amount of will to force himself to even understand the extent of his situation, much less fight and argue with a mad man, so he just weeps in silence, going limp once again. He is slowly, excruciatingly warming by the fire, at least. One of his worries will be solved, and he is still alive. That is definitely a good thing. Now if only he wasn't basically kidnapped for that to have happened.

He holds out hope for when he feels better. Once he can move and speak like normal again, and stand his ground — or even just stand, period — he will fight him off, or look for an exit.

For now, he is exhausted. The warmth surroundings him, however unpleasant, relaxes him further into the arms of his captor. His still damp hair is becoming room temperature. His quivering is fading, bit by bit. He still twitches, his lungs still feel less than adequate, and he is just so incredibly tired. The stranger stands up at some point, leaving him for a while. Says he will return with some warm soup — must have gotten bored of waiting in silence. Without the support of the other man, he leans to the side and ends up curled up on the floor, dozing off.

By the time the man returns, steaming hot soup in his hands, he finds his gift passed out, cocooned up in the middle of his living room, right under the christmas tree. It's a delightful sight, even more so once he notices his rough wheezes as he sleeps, a perfect background noise in tandem with the quiet Händel playing in the hallway. It's so peaceful — the snow has covered everything outside with a thick coat, the sun has gone down, the fireplace has warmed up the whole cabin and the food is ready. It is the most perfect Christmas evening, made flawless by having such a pretty little present sleeping soundly under the tree. Vulnerable, gorgeous, far from home and with the sweetest little tears still glistening on his cheeks rose red from the cold.

Nothing could ruin this, least of all an unruly present.

The stranger sits down on his couch, watching intently the delicious sight, sipping on the delicious vegetable soup. He looks so defenceless like that. Naked, bundled up, unconscious. So many awful ideas spawn in the stranger's mind as he fantasises about all the things they will do together. All the fun they will have.

He could keep him in the shed, but not just yet, it's much too cold. He can keep him in his house, but then he will not have his own room. Then again, his gift doesn't need his own room. He could stay in the stranger's bedroom, locked up nice and safe. They could sleep in the same bed… maybe he could even chain him to the bedpost. Have a sweet thing like him always be right where he belongs. He does not need to leave, all he needs to do is let himself be taken care of. Yes, that sounds just delightful.

He will have to make sure to keep him in check. He can already tell this boy will be trouble if left to his own devices. He will need to be tamed. Carefully. He will need to be taught his place. He will need to be punished harshly for every wrong thought that crosses his mind. That's how he will be good enough to keep. Good enough to spoil with all the attention and care he could ever imagine. A good boy, who will keep him company out here, all on his own. The stranger will make him perfect.

No one will hear him scream. He can yell and fight all he wants. He cannot leave here. Not now that he was given to the stranger like this. The best Christmas present he could have ever asked for.

Hopefully by the time next year's Christmas comes around, he will have learned to be thankful for all his owner had done for him on this day, and will have had plenty of reminders carved into his skin, marking him as property, that he will be able to admire from the sofa like he does today. He will watch him wheeze in his sleep, and curl up bare in front of the crackling fire, and he will go up to him then and remind him of the day he was given to him as the most perfect little present.

<3

Masterlist I Ko-fi

[sanjisboyfie]

๑ keep safe : i'm gonna freeze my balls off, pt. 2 (8)

one piece x male reader

but if you send for me, 

you know i'll come 

and if you call for me, 

you know i'll run

i'll run to you, 

i'll run to you

『 prev 』

that night [name] accompanied sanji in the crow’s nest. after he spent a couple of hours bugging zoro, the sun eventually fell and the moon rose. it seemed sanji was on night duty and [name] didn’t mind keeping him company.

plus, he had that question to ask him.

“sanji, do cigarettes keep you warm?”

“hah? that’s a stupid question,” sanji said, breathing out a puff of smoke. [name] realized he quite liked the smell.

“but i’m really cold, i wanted to know if that’d help me!” [name] reasoned, just wishing to get an answer out of their chef. the blonde thought about it for a moment before holding out the stick. “really, you’ll let me try?” the chef shrugged, “thanks, sanji!”

“no need to thank me, see how you feel about it first,” sanji mused, leaning back against the mast while [name] was leaning against the railing. the two were sat facing each other and sanji was carefully watching [name]’s reaction.

without hesitating [name] brought the stick up to his lips. he inhaled, feeling the smoke invade his lungs. he held it there for a moment before allowing some to escape. obviously, not all the smoke would get completely pushed out of his lungs, but when he exhaled he watched the puff of smoke turn into nothing but air.

“eh, it was alright…lemme try again,” [name] remarked, taking another drag from the cigarette before handing it to sanji. the chef didn’t seem too bothered by infecting [name] with his habit, taking the cigarette to his own lips.

“so? feeling nice and toasty?” sanji teased, watching as [name] popped another coffee bean into his mouth.

”it was warm, but probably not enough. if i get super cold though, i’ll rely on you to give me another one!” [name] said cheerfully, talking about it as if it wasn’t a nasty habit to break if he were to really get hooked on it.

“you’re gonna end up coming back for loads more if you smoke too much,” sanji pointed out, wondering if [name] even knew that cigarettes were addictive.

“i’m not really an…addictive person! i only really like coffee beans the most, it’s too bad they’re not warm when you eat them,” [name] pouted, stomping out sanji’s small concern.

“if you say so,” sanji said softly, putting out the cigarette.

slowly as time past, [name] noticed that sanji was beginning to doze off. and also noticed his cheeks, nose, and ears were turning really red with what seemed to be frostbite.

[name] gently took off his hat and put it on sanji instead, making the blonde sleepily look up at him.

“ah, thanks, [name],” he said softly, sleep invading his system before he could get another word out.

[name] chuckled, watching how easy it was for sanji to doze off. when he looked up at the sky and noticed it was almost a full moon, he smiled softly and took it upon himself to cuddle into sanji’s side.

the blonde wasn’t awake to notice as he unconsciously pressed himself closer to [name]’s side as well, navigating towards the natural body heat. even if [name] was colder than he usually was, he guessed it was more comforting that the cold wind that was breezing through.

[name] spread open the blanket that was once only covering him, fighting back the urge to shiver, and made sure it covered him and sanji completely.

he stayed awake the whole rest of the night. he was too cold to sleep and he didn’t want anything to happen to the ship while he was supposed to be on look out.

that’d only prove his incompetence to the rest of the crew. and he already had so much to prove for himself, he didn’t want to ruin this chance.

so he calmly watched as the moon rotated through the sky, until the gentle rays of the sun greeted his vision. chewing on the coffee beans also helped him not get too worked up on his lack of sleep.

the first sound he heard in the morning, though, was a loud banging coming from below them.

he left the blanket to completely cover sanji, unknowingly waking the blonde up as he got up. sanji was resting his head on [name]’s shoulder while he was sleeping, so the sudden loss of his pillow made him slowly blink open his eyes.

plus the body heat that was comforting him also went away.

“you’re up early, usopp,” [name] yawned, leaning over the edge and watching the sniper.

“oh! that’s where you were, [name], was wondering why you weren’t sleeping in the room with us last night,” usopp said, in a rather cheerful voice despite it being so early. he continued smacking away at repairing merry, “i can’t just sit around and do nothing!” usopp answered, “we gotta get out of this jam as quick as possible!”

[name] smiled gently, resting his cheek on his palm as he watched usopp work. sanji blinked slowly, waking up and coming to his senses. he was warmer than he was when he fell asleep and he noticed it was due to the extra, thick layer of blankets that were surrounding him.

the first thing he reached for within the comforts of his warm cocoon was a cigarette and his box of matches.

at the sound of the matches being struck against the box, [name] turned around. a sleepy smile was on his face and sanji noticed that his hair was a bit more ruffled. he assumed it was because of his sleep, but it was really just the cold breeze that made it go out of place.

“good morning, sanji!” [name] cheerfully replied.

“wow, you’re annoyingly energetic,” sanji said, puffing out smoke, “morning, [name],”

the greeting made [name] grin in return and, like a butterfly effect, it made sanji’s lips slowly curl into a hidden smile. sanji made his grin stay hidden behind his hands, but [name] wasn’t even looking for long as he soon directed his vision to usopp once more.

the two stayed in the crow’s nest for a while, [name] watching usopp work and sanji preserving the heat he had acquired overnight. when the sun came to warm them, to some extent, [name] decided that he’d check in on nami.

he left sanji up in the crow’s nest, going down with ease and gently patting usopp on the back. the sniper appreciated it, humming in thanks as he continued tirelessly working on repairs.

when [name] got inside of the room, he greeted vivi with a good morning and quietly walked to nami’s bedside.

“how is she?”

“i just replaced the towel on her head…there’s really nothing much we can do to help her besides that,” vivi said, a hint of regret in her voice. [name] put his hand on her head easily, seeing as she was kneeling by nami’s bed rather than standing. she looked up at him in wonderment.

“she’s gonna be fine, we’re gonna find an island soon, i can feel it,” [name] grinned, trying to uplight the princess’s spirits. and it worked. because then vivi was jumping up from her position and getting ready to walk out onto deck.

“you’re right, [name], i’ll talk with the others now to see if they’ve spotted an island yet,” she said, squeezing his arm gently before quickly walking out of the room.

once he heard the door shut behind her, he took a seat by nami.

“she’d have pulled her hair out if she stayed her another moment with you,” [name] joked, “she’s so worried. but don’t worry, nami, we’re gonna find you a doctor soon and you’re gonna get better and when you do - we’re gonna save alabasta!”

he didn’t know if nami could hear his words or not, but he assumed that if there was a chance she could, he’d want to say something that would comfort her.

“hm, i’ve taken ahold of your coffee beans, by the way,” he chuckled, popping another one into his mouth, “you’re not supposed to drink any coffee now anyway, so you can boil in your annoyance for as long as you want — not gonna change anything! haha!”

[name] laughed in glee at his own jokes, assuring himself that if nami had the energy to, she would laugh as well. in reality, she surely would have smacked him over the head at his antics.

he leaned closer to her bed, noticing that her blanket had moved in her sleep. he hummed in thought, moving around the room. he noticed there were blankets and pillows scattered all around. he got to work in piling the pillows on top of her and then dropping a couple more blankets on top of those as well.

hopefully, he thought, this mimics some sort of heated or weighted blanket.

he felt satisfaction surge in his chest when he saw nami bury herself deeper into the blankets. he stayed by her side a remainder of the journey, feeling relief to hear luffy shouting about finding an island.

“see? it’s all gonna get better soon,” he said, this time he didn’t know if he was talking to nami or himself.

there was a gunshot that rang in the air and [name] immediately positioned himself protectively in front of nami’s bed. if people were really going to invade their ship, like they did on the way to this island, he’d kill anyone that tried getting to nami.

he sat right in front of her bed, his sword resting on his knees in front of him, and he carefully watched the door.

when it opened and revealed vivi, he relaxed.

“is there a doctor?” was the first question he asked and vivi immediately answered that the villagers were willing to help.

[name] nodded and quickly got to work in getting nami prepared for a journey. he saw vivi wanted to help, but he shook his head, “i’ll make sure nami doesn’t get cold on her journey, don’t worry, tell the others i’ll bring her up soon,”

she looked at him in full confidence, nodded her head, and ran back upstairs.

if vivi had to place any amount of trust in [name] a couple of days ago, she would not be able to do so confidently. to her, [name] was a suspicious individual who very well could’ve been after her head as she is a princess. but to see him so attentive to nami and caring towards her, almost more than sanji was, her worries were gradually washed away.

[name] was trustworthy and it was obvious as he so tenderly took care of nami whenever she wasn’t there. she would trust him with her life as well. and it felt ridiculous for her to come to that conclusion so suddenly, but [name] was the reason she was confident nami would get better.

plus the fact he was reliable in medical knowledge, or as far as his medical knowledge went. so she delivered his message to those above deck without a second thought, to which they nodded their heads.

meanwhile, [name] was making sure nami would be as warm as possible when they reached the island. he put her in the jacket he stole from that other pirate crew, made sure the hood was securely around her head, and then continued to cocoon her in even more layers.

she looked more like a oval-shaped thing rather than a human. but when he expertly tied a rope around her body to attach to his own, he felt secure in knowing she’d be warm and safe. her body was on his back and the crew looked at him as if he were crazy when he emerged from the room.

“what? can’t be too safe!” he pointed out with a grin, “i did a good job, didn’t i?”

luffy clapped his hands in amazement, usopp soon joining. zoro made a comment on how [name] looked like an idiot and sanji didn’t make any snide remarks, simply complimenting him on how he was properly treating nami. vivi had tears in her eyes as she saw [name]’s care that went into making sure nami would be warm for her journey.

on the other hand, he looked greatly underdressed. he only had his shirt and pants on underneath the singular extra layer of a long cloak.

“but [name], you need a jacket,” vivi chimed in, about to go searching for one.

“no, it’s alright, i don’t need it,” [name] shook his head, prepared to find a doctor and getting angsty the longer they were standing still, “let’s get moving already, we need to get nami treated, now.”

"h-hey! hold it right there!" just as [name] touched ground on the island, he was stopped very abruptly. he almost stumbled backwards at the sudden motion because of the uneven weight of nami being on his back. luckily, in time, he steadied himself very quickly. 

he lifted his head from the ground and glared at the civilian that had physically stopped him, "what's your issue?" he asked in a hoarse voice. 

the person's legs seemed to shake from his gaze alone, but their grip on their weapon only tightened. [name]'s eyebrows furrowed at their behavior, about to repeat his question, but they cut him off, "you! you can't come onto this island!"

the crew stopped to watch the scene, vivi about to rush forward and plead for [name]'s case, but his next action made them all still. he reached his arm up and grabbed ahold of the man's collar, "get out of my way." a simple command. his stern voice made the civilian gulp in fear. "or i'll make you move, but if that happens, you won't have your limbs attached to your body," 

"[name]!!" vivi shouted at the threat, rushing forward to force [name]'s hands off of the person, but [name] already dropped the guy, "they're just civilians!!" 

"civilians that are stopping us from getting nami treated," [name] retorted, not looking at the stressed princess in front of him and keeping his gaze trained on the individual. 

"you're a pirate, we know exactly who you are! and we'd rather fight you to the death rather than let you step foot into town," another person cried, making vivi's head whip around in attention. "w-we won't go down like those other towns you've terrorized! we'll fight to protect our home!!"

"please, we sincerely do not have time to waste right now," vivi cried out, motioning frantically to the person on [name]'s back, nami, "she needs a doctor," 

"what? a little news article scare you?" [name] taunted, a smirk on his lips. he was once again ignoring vivi'snpresence, stepping forward as if to incite a reaction.

vivi turned around and shot him a glare, like a mother would to a child that was speaking out in front of her.

[name] didn't help with his next comment either, "the government lies anyway, so don't believe everything you see," 

"the government-" 

"that's enough." a authoritative voice said, breaking the argument up, "there is no need for hostility...they're only here to help their crewmate. if all goes terrible, then we will deal with it when the time comes. for now, let's just get going," 

"that's more of what i like to hear," [name] grinned, shooting a smug look to the civilians that were looking at him in fear, "don't go pissin-" 

vivi clamped her gloved hand on [name]'s face, forced him to bow wirh her hand pressing against the back of his head, and then pushed him forward to follow after the rest of the group. the rest of the crew sighed to see [name] so hostile, wondering if he was always like that. his treatment towards the crew was so different from how he treated the civilians. 

“we need to warn you though, the only doctor we have on this island, is a witch,” the supposed leader of the island said.

[name] grunted as he trudged through the snow, adjusting nami on his back to make sure she wouldn’t slip. sanji was watching carefully in alert, just in case [name] slipped or somehow would mess up and accidentally injure nami in the process.

[name] didn’t speak or complain the entire journey, dead set on getting to a doctor as fast as he can. he did bow respectfully at a passing bear, but other than he conserved his energy to the maximum.

“this is our village, big horn,” the man said as they reached some form of civilization.

[name] tuned out any conversation going on around him, desperately trying not to think about how cold he was. he felt as if he was freezing to the bone, literally. it was as if his inside were hardening to become ice.

he had lost his ability to control his facial expressions, so his face was literally stuck in one expression. eyebrows furrowed together, lips set into a thin line, jaw clenched - it was a rather scary sight only because of how intimidating it was to others. it definitely didn't ease any of the civilians that already recognized his face for the high bounty he had. it only seemed to make him live up to his terrible reputation. 

but in reality, [name] couldn’t change that facial expression even if he wanted to.

he just hopes that he doesn’t lose the nerve feelings on any other parts of his body before they found the supposed witch doctor. but, it seemed that his toes were already losing feeling.

‘my balls are gonna freeze off…’ he thought once more, gritting his teeth as he urged himself to deal with and fight off the freezing cold.

for some reason, instead of leading the crew to a doctor, they were taken to a home. [name] grit his teeth, but tried not to outwardly rejoice in the warm feeling inside of the place.

he felt his own facial features beginning to relax, as if being thawed out by the warmth.

“i appreciate the warm welcome in here,” [name] spoke, stretching his face by extending his jaw to regain control faster, “but our friend seriously needs to see a doctor.”

vivi was scrambling behind him to get nami’s temperature, seeing as she was tied to [name]’s back there was no discussion of un-doing the knots that [name] had done. so she simply angled nami’s face towards her and took her temperature that way.

“107 (42C)!!” vivi exclaimed, making [name] click his tongue.

“come on, man, where’s the doctor? it doesn’t matter if she’s a witch,” sanji said, getting exasperated.

“did you see the insanely tall mountains earlier?”

[name] nodded his head as sanji hummed in confirmation.

“those mountains are known as the drum rockies. do you see the castle at the top of the tallest one in the middle?” [name] looked out the window, nodding once more, “the castle no longer has its king. the only doctor in the land, dr. kureha, lives there. people call her a witch,”

“well, isn’t that just lovely, the farthest place from where we are,” [name] said sarcastically, feeling himself grow bitter at this island, “how convenient,”

“call her right away, tell her we have a critical patient!” sanji said, adding into the urgency of finding the doctor.

“even if we wanted to, there’s no way we can contact her,”

“of course there isn’t,” [name] said, slapping his gloved hand onto his face.

“as a doctor, she’s very skilled. but she’s an eccentric old woman, she’s nearly 140 years old now. and let’s see, she likes pickled plums,” [name] grit his teeth as he saw no point in the conversation. the guy was telling them everything they needed to know except for how to get ahold of the doctor.

at this point, he will have to go up there himself.

plus the fact now the guy was telling strange stories about creatures that had no correlation to helping nami get better. of course, they had to anchor at the most difficult island imaginable.

luffy hummed in thought before rushing over to where [name] was standing, talking to nami on his back, “nami, nami wake up! nami, wake up-”

“idiot, don’t yell at her!” [name] said, turned around and slapping luffy on the head.

“ah, it worked, she woke up! nami, listen we are gonna climb the mountain to get you to the doctor!”

[name] blinked a couple of times before grinning like a madman. luffy always knew how to get things going, no matter the situation.

“what!? what are you talking about?” usopp shouted.

“don’t make nami-san do something like that!” sanji refused.

“luffy, what do you mean?!” vivi asked.

“what’s the problem? we need to hurry, don’t we? [name] will carry her on his back and we will go and talk to this old witch lady,” luffy said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

to [name], it was. but it seemed the others didn’t think so.

“oi, [name] you can’t possibly think this is the right course of action!” usopp said, hoping that [name] would be able to talk their captain out of his antics, but [name] shook his head.

“no, i agree,” [name] said very simply, “if we wait here, nami dies. if we go up that mountain, at least we’d have a chance in seeing the doctor. i’m not waiting here and watching nami die,”

when he used the word so casually, sanji got more irritated.

”she won’t die and could you two please use your heads for once?! nami-san can’t make that journey!”

“it won’t matter if she herself can or can’t, we’re taking her up that mountain!” [name] shouted, getting irritated at everyone. “nami will have me and luffy there, that’s more than enough reliability!”

“what if you guys fall from that height?! any normal person will die,”

“i’ll be the one to break that fall,” [name] said easily, looking bored with all their questions.

“i stretch, so i’m not normal,” luffy said simply, stretching his face with his fingers for emphasis.

“you guys-”

“we need to…” nami’s weak voice spoke from behind [name], making him turn his head towards her, “we need to hurry, for vivi,”

luffy grinned at her words, picking up on her tone exactly what she meant.

“captain, [name], i’m counting on you,” she said, letting her head rest completely on [name]’s shoulder as she finished her sentence.

“see! just leave it to us, we’ll take care of it!”

“you’ll wake up, nami, and you’ll feel so much better,” [name] said in confidence to the navigator, not minding the looks that the others were giving him.

they walked out of the home, [name]’s teeth almost instantly chattering at the cold climate. but he clenched his jaw to prevent anyone else from hearing and dealt with it with a stoic face.

“i’m going too!” sanji said, desperate to play a role in nami getting better.

“if you’re really going, then i won’t stop you. but please, at least go from the other side, there are lapins on this course ahead,” [name] tilted his head, wondering what lapins were. “fierce, carnivorous rabbits. if you encounter a pack of them, you’re as good as dead.”

[name] shrugged, motioning to the sword at his waist, “i’ll cut them all up,”

“i’ll kick ‘em away,” sanji added in, but it only made dalton look at them as if they were crazy.

“are you serious?! you’ll be walking into your deaths,” luffy and sanji waved off the man's concerns, allowing [name] some time to talk to the princess.   

“vivi,” [name] spoke softly to the woman, walking up to her side and looking down at her with a gentle smile, “i promise i’ll make our trip quick so we can go to alabasta as soon as possible,”

“please, don’t feel burdened to rush — this is nami’s life, so be sure to-”

“hey, don’t worry your pretty little head about anything,” [name] chuckled, ruffling her hair and causing a mess of her blue locks, “i’m telling you this specifically to calm your nerves and worries in the first place, princess!”

she blushed furiously at his comment, clutching her fists at her sides.

“so take it easy while we get nami feeling better,” he said, sounding almost as if he were scolding her. “i always keep my ends of promises, so that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about,” he joked, earning a weak chuckle from her.

“you’re terrible, [name],” she said hopelessly, internally scolding herself. deep down she knew [name] really would stay true to his word. with how determined he was to see nami get better back on the ship, there's no way he wouldn't ensure she got her treatment.

“come on, shit for brains, we are on a schedule, if you didn’t know!!!” sanji shouted, interrupting [name] and vivi’s conversation.

[name] rolled his eyes, already going to walk ahead, “alright, alright, sorry!” he shot vivi one last smile before turning around and adjusting the grip he had on nami. once he felt secure enough, he announced, “i’m going!!!” and then ran ahead to go up the mountain.

sanji and luffy followed closely behind, luffy laughing his head off as sanji berated [name] for, “not running gently enough for nami-san!” in the distance, they could faintly hear usopp and vivi wishing them a safe journey.

“nami, you’re strong,” [name] whispered, only for the girl to hear, “so hold on a little longer, then you can rest for as long as you want. i promise — when you wake up! you’ll feel fine!”

“[name]’s gone crazy, he started talking to himself!” luffy joked with sanji, making [name] throw a snowball at his head in retaliation.

luffy was about to throw one back, but sanji kicked him to put him to a stop.

this made luffy’s laughter ring in the snowy mountains, with sanji’s grumbling, [name]’s strained exhales, and nami’s bated breath all quietly following their captain’s loud cackles.

—

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[kassiekole22]

First Christmas

Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader

Description: You and Syzoth celebrate your first Christmas together...

Warnings: Fluff! 💚

Word Count: 1k

A/N: I have been saving this for a little while now. In fact, it has been sitting in my queue for quite some time. 😅 I do plan on doing more lovely holiday fics after this as well, and not just for Syzoth. I hope you all enjoy this and Merry Christmas, everybody! ❤️💚❤️💚

Main MasterList: 🖤

Kassie's Angels: @mornandil , @bihansthot , @katiralovely , @queenkhepri , @blackbunnymayw , @simpforhotmaskedmen , @theleftkittycollection , @kiashines .

(If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

"Wake up, my little pickle." I chuckled to myself as I shook my boyfriend's shoulder, eager to see him wake and stare up at me with those breathtaking green eyes once again.

But I only got an agitated groan in response. Syzoth was always quite difficult to pull out of bed. Once he was warm, he would stay in the same spot for hours upon hours, just soaking up as much heat as he could. The blanket nest he made for himself the night prior was no different.

But after a few more nudges, his eyes reluctantly opened to peer up at me with disappointment.

"A few more minutes..." He whined like a young child who wasn't getting his way.

I merely laughed at his behavior and shook my head. "Nope! It's Christmas morning! Time for presents!"

"You Earthrealmers never fail to confuse me with your traditions. This early just for for gifts?" He grumbled while getting out of bed.

His body visibly shivered when he crawled out of the covers. Despite the heat being on, two space heaters, and the thickest sweater I could find for him, Syzoth still could barely cope with Earthrealm's winters. The very thought of him leaving his nest of heated blankets made his skin chill.

Giggling to myself, I took his hand and pulled him to the living room, where our 7ft tree stood tall in the corner of the room with presents nestled safely beneath it.

We decorated it last night. He was scheduled to arrive in Earthrealm on Christmas Eve, so I decided to wait so we could do it together. I didn't mind. But I'll never forget all the confused questions that the Zaterran laid on me as we got it ready for Christmas.

"Why do you humans bring a tree into your home and hang all this shiny stuff off of its branches?"

"Do you at least make sure there are no creatures living inside first?"

"Why does a star go on top?"

Luckily, I did not need a ladder to reach the top of the tree this year, since Syzoth's 8ft Zaterran form towered over it. Though he acted confused as he carefully placed the star on the top branch, I could see a small hint of pride as he did it. It was like he was proud that he was completing the look.

When we both stepped back to admire our creation, I couldn't help but notice the child-like wonder in his eyes as the twinkling lights reflected in his irises. Much like they did now, as he slowly creeped into the living room to investigate all of the new differences that had changed overnight.

"So that man really was here?" He asked as he kneeled down by the tree to pick up a small gift in his big hands. He shook it lightly before asking with uncertainty, "What's his name? Ummmm... Sandie Claws?"

I burst out laughing at his assumption and then corrected him nicely, to not make him feel dumb, "Santa Clause. And... Yes... He did..."

After seeing the fascination grow in his eyes as I told him about the all-famous St. Nick, I couldn't bring myself to tell him that he wasn't even real. And since he had never experienced this holiday as a child, I just decided to go with it to humor the inner child that hid within the man.

A large smile spread across his lips as he looked up at me, almost as if he was waiting for the go-ahead to tear into the gifts before him. Chuckling, I nodded and got my camera ready.

After that, he placed the items on the coffee table and wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace. It was the sweetest gift of all. The biggest grin was displayed proudly on my face as I snuggled into his touch.

The sounds of claws shredding paper and gasps of excitement filled the room as he revealed each surprise one-by-one. He held up the worms from the local reptile shop in my town, a scrub brush for exfoliating dead skin away while he was shedding, and a spray bottle to keep his skin moist when he didn't have the time to soak as I snapped the final picture for the Christmas of 2023 album.

"I hope you enjoyed it, pickle." I breathed as my heart beamed with happiness that I was lucky enough to be present for this milestone in his life—his first Christmas.

"We are not done, my sunshine." He then whispered in my ear before pulling away from me and reaching into his pocket.

My eyes widened in astonishment as I watched him pull a beautiful homemade necklace out. A gorgeous green gem pendant—that looked to be one from only Outworld—hung delicately on a thin silver chain. He placed it around my neck and planted a tender kiss on my cheek before whispering, "Thank you for making my first Christmas a special one."

My eyes teared up with joy as I felt the weight of the necklace on my neck and his cold skin brushing against mine. Though my emotions weren't from the gift, they were from the thought behind it.

He always knew just how to show how much he cared for me, and that was one of the many reasons why I was so grateful to know him, let alone be his partner. I knew for sure that Syzoth loved me, and I loved him just as much.

"Thank you." I murmured after turning around and hugging him one more time.

I held him so close and tight like if I were to let go and open my eyes, he would be gone, and I would realize that it was all fiction. But it was real. He was my destiny—my star.

He encased me in his arms again, completing the embrace. Later on, we would leave my house to go to Johnny's for Christmas dinner and his famous holiday party. But until then, it was just us in this beautiful moment that I would cherish forever.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐