#look at that doctor and tell me they can’t cook

[whatsfourteenupto]

The thing is, the Doctor is a pretty good cook across the board (Not 13. They’re not sure why it skipped that regeneration but 13 was only allowed in the kitchen with strict supervision). The issue is that if they start cooking one thing, they keep “might as well”-ing until they’re working on six recipes at once, all four burners are going, every dish in Donna’s kitchen is now dirty, and tomorrow’s breakfast is cooking next to tonight’s dinner “because it’ll save time in the morning!” Yes, the carbonada recipe they got from that lovely old man in Argentina is delicious, but dinner is interrupted by the bread they forgot they left in the oven.

[fingertipsmp3]

The mood of Christmas ‘22 is malaise btw

[eiilese]

what if the strawhats had different roles on the ship⁉️ i swapped everyone’s roles except for luffy because i can’t imagine him being anything but the captain

these are loose redesigns since their canon designs don’t really read as their roles all that much to begin with. some extra doodles and ideas for this in the cut !!

nami, vice captain: i took a lot of inspiration from her beta design!! canon nami already bosses everyone around so she fits right into the role. she wields an extendable staff (usopp still makes it for her); she lost her arm over the time-skip like how zoro lost his eye. i LOVE drawing cargo pants and boots, so she ended up with a sorta bottom-heavy design. frankly it’s probably not her style but i like how she looks

zoro, the cook: my foolproof logic is zoro uses swords = good with knives. he does not use katanas to cut produce however, just normal knives. i was trying to go for “sweaty ramen guy” with the towel around his neck. the majority of the shit he cooks would probably be drowned in alcohol. he also wears his bandana the majority of the time now!! it completes the ramen guy look

sanji, the sniper: i also took inspiration from his beta design for this!!! he has guns!! and perfect aim of course. i was going for more of a mafioso look so germa 66 would be like, a mafia organization on top of all the other villain shit they already do. he has two guns but i didn’t draw a holster bc that’s annoying🤞 he lights his cigarettes with his guns. how would that even work? don’t ask me

usopp, the navigator: his artistic talent lends itself to creating perfect maps! he also still tinkers, making nami’s staff as well as having a specialty for compasses. he uses a slingshot still (no perfect aim we gotta nerf him) and shoots weather-related projectiles. his goggles serve as binoculars, they can zoom to several different distances. i drew him in his zou outfit purely bc it’s my favorite one

chopper, the helmsman: he would predominately use heavy point while maneuvering the wheel. i changed his hat up to look more like a sailor’s cap, with an anchor symbol instead of an X. to be honest i don’t have much else bc helmsman doesn’t bring much to my mind :(

franky, the musician: ROCK N ROLL BABY YEEAHHH come on his stage presence is unmatched. he’s still a cyborg, he has instruments all over his body like apoo does but they were installed manually. his personality changes depending on what genre he’s playing but rock n roll is his default B) (ex. classical calls for a refined gentleman)

robin, the shipwright: her devil fruit gives her as many helpful hands as she needs! she developed nami’s arm (definitely installed some random shit she did Not ask for). she has a robot mecha that she’s able to pilot all by herself using clones. i changed her orange sunglasses to goggle eyewear

brook, the doctor: the irony of being nursed back to health by a literal skeleton 💀the irony of being the doctor of the rumbar pirates yet being the only survivor, saving no one from the poison 💀 i went for a plague doctor look! IM VERY HAPPY WITH HOW HE TURNED OUT i was really tempted to give him the plague mask too, but i feel that would’ve changed his appearance too much compared to the others

jinbei, the archaeologist: the shape of this man demands a little pair of round glasses on his face. he’s an intellectual i tell you!!! plus still a fishman karate master. the history of joyboy and fishman island being so intertwined is how he developed an interest in history

[sincerelybubbles]

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

part 2

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention. 

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you. 

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight. 

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind. 

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain. 

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door. 

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous. 

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. 

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee. 

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply. 

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over. 

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide. 

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge. 

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove. 

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh. 

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor. 

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book. 

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta. 

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart. 

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news. 

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting. 

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident. 

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet. 

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well. 

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face. 

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief. 

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest. 

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled. 

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression. 

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere. 

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder. 

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile. 

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are. 

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted. 

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him. 

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space. 

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones. 

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically. 

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. 

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name. 

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone. 

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait. 

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in. 

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks. 

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack. 

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something. 

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder. 

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow. 

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him. 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up. 

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains. 

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little. 

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one. 

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted. 

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread. 

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him. 

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it. 

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes. 

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him. 

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about. 

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere. 

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable. 

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away. 

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms. 

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly. 

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something. 

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers. 

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging. 

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering. 

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct. 

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back. 

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly. 

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored. 

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory. 

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught. 

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street. 

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food. 

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street. 

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs. 

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks. 

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer. 

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house. 

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head. 

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window. 

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology. 

You wish he hadn’t. 

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again. 

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle. 

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts. 

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway. 

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side. 

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun. 

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks. 

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low. 

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms. 

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid. 

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy. 

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head. 

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket. 

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team. 

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway. 

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you. 

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away. 

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it. 

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile. 

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

[palajae]

wrong place, wrong time.

PAIRING... heeseung x doctor!reader | GENRE... fluff, romance, humor, mentions of hospitals, flirty heeseung | WC... 1kish

“oh my god. he has to be a model. there’s no way-“

“maybe he’s famous…”

“should we ask him for a picture?”

you roll your eyes at the excited chatter coming from the nurses down the hall. who knew what they were gossiping about this time? shoving your hands in your coat pockets, you’re quite literally stopped by the sight of everyone crowded by the front desk.

you frown, taking in their lovestruck expressions. “what’s going on?”

one of the nurses, giselle, quickly squeals and runs over to whisper in your ear. 

“you won’t believe it, doc. the finest man just walked in. his condition seems alright so we’re all trying to figure out what he came in for.”

of course. you let out an exasperated sigh, watching in amusement as everyone fights to be the one to escort him to a room. 

out of pure curiosity, you decide to take a quick glimpse. exactly how handsome could this guy really be?

apparently, very. much. so. 

lee heeseung. early twenties. looks like a member of a famous boy band. has got everyone in close proximity wrapped around his finger.

also, a huge flirt (obviously.) 

the nurses love him, getting any and every chance to bat their eyelashes and flirt back. 

you, on the other hand? 

you’re sure you’ve become a pro at rejecting his advances. 

the first time he came in was for bloodwork. the second time, x-rays. the third time he was “feeling under the weather.” 

honestly, you’re wondering why he visited so often. if anything, most people avoided hospitals.

“hi, dr. y/l/n.”

your lips press together in a thin line. your eyes remain focused on the clipboard in front of you. you weren’t counting but this was, what? 

his fourth time checking in? 

“heeseung. you’re back…again. may i ask why you seem to love the hospital?”

he smirks teasingly, “or maybe why the hospital seems to love me?”

you can’t help but roll your eyes indiscreetly. 

he did it every time. of course, he was friendly with everyone. but heeseung just seemed to go the extra mile around you. 

“i think i ate something bad.”

you quirk an eyebrow, “oh really?”

“i don’t know, maybe it was something the chef cooked?” he responds cheekily. 

you let out a huff of air, one long enough that blows the baby hairs out of your face. “…what did you eat last night?”

“oh, it was delicious,” his eyes bore into you as he continues to ramble on.

“any pain, discomfort, bowel movements?” you interrupt, clicking your pen incessantly. 

“no, just the ache in my heart when you ignore me,” he clutches his chest playfully.

you look up at him with pursed lips. 

“you know what? i think you’re fine and it’s time for you to go.”

you guide heeseung to the front desk to drop him off, about to leave him in the hands of the receptionist. as you’re about to leave, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. it’s subtle—under the table so no one else can see. 

your body stiffens for a moment, examining his face that holds an unreadable expression. when neither of you utter a single word, you gently pull your arm from his grip when someone calls for you. 

winter’s mouth drops open. “you’re telling me he came back a fourth time? this must be a record.”

ningning nods excitedly, “i mean, there has to be a reason. who do you think he keeps coming back for?”

you almost choke on your water. “you’re saying-?”

she turns to you, eyebrows raised insistently. “there must be a certain someone that catches his eye here.”

“i wish it were me,” giselle sulks as her fork stabs into her food pathetically. 

winter frowns, “you know, he has been really clingy to you, doc.”

you swallow harshly. “huh?”

everyone begins to chime in accordance. 

“yeah, he always asks about you and what you’re doing.”

“he only gets check ups from you, too.”

you scoff, shaking your head slightly. “don’t remind me.”

the three of them pause for a short moment, before their expressions change. you feel fear and apprehension course through your veins. 

“do you not like him? is it because you think he’s so cute?”

“are you interested in him?” their wide eyes and questioning voices makes your mouth dry.

“now that i think about it… y/n’s the only one who doesn’t seem down bad for heeseung.”

you stammer, unable to form a response until your pager goes off. 

“ha-oh. well, that’s my cue!” 

you quickly make your escape in order to hide your flustered expression. 

after you finished your rounds later, you slump into your chair in the cafeteria. the sounds of the conversation from the table next to you drifts over to your ears. 

“do you think it’s because of me? i mean, he always greets me good morning with those dreamy eyes of his.”

your eye twitches. 

“don’t think you’re so special. heeseung waves goodbye to me every time.”

alright, enough of this. you stand up, chair clattering backwards quite loudly, and walk off. you’ve just made it to your office, opening the door, when you freeze.

“heeseung? what are you doing here?”

he immediately smiles from—your eyes narrow—your rolling chair. he rolls closer, a bit too close.

“why do you keep asking when you know the  answer already?”

for a moment, you keep your eyes locked. then you let your professional mode switch off. 

“you really need to stop coming, hee. people are getting ideas,” you chide gently with a ruffle of his hair.

he leans into your touch with a hum, “about you and me?”

you push his head away with a snort, “no. about you and them.” 

with a chuckle, he wraps his arms around your waist. “i’m sorry. i can’t help but miss my baby when you’re practically working all day.”

you soften, “i know. i’m sorry. but this is getting a little out of hand.”

suddenly heeseung gets up, moving closer towards you. “will a kiss make up for it?”

you pretend to think, tapping your foot thoughtfully, “maybe… depends on how good of a kiss.“

he quickly leans in, one arm snaking around your waist while the other cups your cheek. your eyes begin to close. as soon as you feel the ghost of his lips touch yours, the door slides open. 

“doc-“

you immediately push heeseung off of you, startled. and then proceed to shut the door in giselle’s face, quite literally. with panicked whispers, you manage to shove your boyfriend under the desk with a final shh!

about 0.3 seconds later, you slide the door open again. 

giselle stands there, gaping. 

“what was that?!”

“what was what?” you clear your throat nonchalantly, taking a look at your patient’s files. 

“you-he-“ she splutters, “heeseung!” 

“what are you talking about?”

“you’re the one heeseung keeps coming for?”

“doctor y/l/n?!”

you both freeze. the rest of the nurses look from you to giselle and back with shell shocked faces. 

you want to curl up into a ball. this is not how you wanted everyone to find out. given, you didn’t expect your loving boyfriend to visit out of the blue without any context. 

you smile sheepishly. “surprise?”

before you know it, a hand finds its way onto your shoulder. you almost jump before relaxing at the touch. 

“we-we thought- heeseung-“

you bite your lip, as heeseung chuckles. you wanted to keep your personal life and work life separate, but with your job getting so hectic the past couple weeks, you realized you had spent way more time at the hospital than at home. 

immediately, guilt runs through your body. heeseung had always been so sweet and understanding, and seeing him come visit your work really put things in perspective. 

how bad must’ve it been for him to have to go out of his way just to see you? while you kept brushing him off? 

you wrap an arm around his waist, hugging him closer. “guys, this is my boyfriend, heeseung—as most of you already know.”

he looks at you with surprise evident in his eyes. obviously, you weren’t the most open person. 

as everyone watches you two with jaws dropped, you squeeze his hand in hopes he understands. you’re lucky to have heeseung—the most empathetic person you know, because he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, “no more running away and prioritizing work.”

everyone else in the room fades away as he truly looks you in the eye. 

“i know, baby. i know.”

as you both beam at each other, you’re assured in the love you feel together once more. 

a/n ▸ jae posting two days in a row? that’s crazy

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[eternally-racing]

kiss it better | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x reader 

genre: fluff, smut  (minors DNI)

warning: oral sex (m! receiving)

wc: 1.3k 

summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better. 

author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL

- - - 

The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.

You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better. 

Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit. 

“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?” 

It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.

“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “ 

“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye. 

“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on. 

“Oh?” 

“Oh.” 

“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly. 

Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.

“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?” 

You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.  

“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations. 

Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.

“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.” 

It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch. 

“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length. 

You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock. 

You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control. 

“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone. 

“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums. 

There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time. 

“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs. 

“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further. 

“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties. 

— – – – —

author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷

[grandline-fics]

Shifting Focus

DESCRIPTION: The moment they began to see you as more than just a crew-mate

WARNINGS: None

CHARACTERS: Sanji, Law | Shanks,Kid, Smoker

WORD COUNT: 1,125

MASTERLIST

---------------

SANJI

Another battle done, another town unexpectedly saved and the Strawhats were front in centre of a celebration banquet thrown by the thankful civilians. Never one to turn down the chance to enjoy themselves with a good party everyone in the crew savoured every moment of it before they’d have to set sail again. Chopper, Luffy, Franky, and Usopp were laughing and joking around as usual. Zoro had found a relatively quiet place to drink while still enjoying the atmosphere. Brook stood with the musicians, already he’d picked up on their songs and was able to join them perfectly. As always Sanji’s first priority was the food, looking over everything appreciatively and talking to the cooks to learn any new flavour combinations or techniques.

The sound of cheering pulled him from his careful examination of how the meat was prepared. Across the town square he watched as you, Nami, and Robin were being taught the dance moves of a local dance. You were getting the hang of it but when you were meant to kick your leg out, you twirled which knocked you into Nami. Together the two of you were knocked towards the ground only to be stopped by Robin’s summoned limbs. The three of you laughed along with the other dancers. Sanji couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, that was you all over. 

Even when you stumbled you still found a way to find a positive about it all. After getting untangled from your crew-mate you wandered over to the food table and grinned happily at Sanji. “Were you blown away by my amazing dance skills?” you asked playfully, eyes trained solely on his face.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Sanji admitted with a flirtatious grin, returning your intent stare with equal attention for emphasis. He took in the way your eyes sparkled under the soft light of the lanterns hung above your head, the way your lips spread out into the brightest smile that was too infectious to fight. All around him he could hear the laughter and sound of other women and only now did he realise that you were the only person he wanted to pay attention to. Suddenly the sound of the music changed into something fast and you gasped excitedly, reaching for Sanji’s hand. “Wh-”

“C’mon Black Leg, dance with me!” you urged, tugging him towards the centre of the square. Slowly you looked over your shoulder to fix him with a challenging look. “Or do you think you can’t keep up with me?” Sanji stared at you and prayed he wasn’t misreading the hopeful glint in your eyes. Could it be your words held more weight beyond the light-hearted flirting he’d been used to? 

Not wanting to let the chance go, he tightened his grip on your hand and twirled you effortlessly while walking with you to the dance floor. “Oh I’m with you every step of the way.”

LAW

Law was exhausted and yet even with being a doctor, he chose to push himself further instead of actually taking the free time they were between islands to rest. He sat hunched over his desk, gaze pouring over multiple medical textbooks and charts of the islands they could end up at. Absently he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall but kept his tired eyes focused on the pages in front of him. “Captain? You haven’t gone to bed yet?” A low sigh came from his lips before he looked to Bepo. His deadpan expression telling the bear that obviously he hadn’t. He knew the crew was concerned for this awful sleeping habits but this was something that needed to be done.

“I’ll go soon.” He told the navigator and dropped his head back down, nothing more needed to be said. At least that was what Law thought. Two hours ago he’d promised Sachi he’d ‘go to bed soon’ and Penguin was promised the same an hour before that. It was getting out of hand so Bepo walked through the corridors of the Polar Tang in determination. Twenty minutes later the door to Law’s study opened and he snapped his head up. “Bepo I said-!” he shut his mouth to see you entering. 

“Oh dear, Captain, we might need to get your eyes checked if you think I share any resemblance to him.” You teased while approaching the table. Law kept his head down but was acutely aware of you standing behind him, your gaze sweeping over what was causing today’s lack of sleep. Offering nothing more than a small hum of interest you set a cup of tea and a snack beside his elbow and stepped around to the opposite side of the table again. His stare moved from the offering to you as you sat on the edge of the table, one of the texts lifted into your hand. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me to go to bed?” he asked with a frown, watching as you flipped the page and shook your head. “Why not?”

“Not much point in doing that is there, Captain?” You asked innocently with a knowing smile. “You never listen. I mean it’s fine, you know best.” Law folded his arms and continued to watch you. “There’s actually a bet now.”

“A bet?” Law repeated in interest and slight worry. Bets among the crew were standard, something to help pass the time but when it was about him, it was something he couldn’t ignore. You nodded and turned the text around to face him, lightly tapping a passage for him to read. Law’s eyes flickered down briefly to note the page and saw it was exactly what he was looking for; notes about a virus that was common in one of the islands they were heading to along with it’s method of treatment. But that wasn’t the pressing matter anymore he found. “What’s the bet?”

“Oh just just the guys betting what time you’ll actually fall asleep at. Whoever guesses right wins a date with me.” You answered so casually and leant over the table to grab another textbook. He observed you so intently, trying to hide his shock at the terms of the bet. He stared at you hard, searching your face for any trace that it was a lie but the twisting knot was growing in his stomach. He all but flinched when you unleashed the full force of your stare at him. “If you go to bed now, they all lose.” Your voice was low, practically urging him to make a decision. Whether you were lying about the bet or not, Law’s body acted immediately. He got to his feet and strode to the door, leaving you to smirk triumphantly. “Night Captain.” 

[frudoo]

Literally obsessed with your Slasher 141 series, its been giving me so much brainrot

I have a few ideas;

reader feels a bit self conscious about her body and the boys make it their mission to show her how beautiful she is in their eyes (could be fluff or smut)

OR

Reader decides to be a brat over text to the boys as they were out for the day, and hides from the boys once they arrive home, resulting in them hunting and chasing her down 👀👀 ( smut and a lil fluff )

This is very self-indulgent because I've been feeling bad about my own body lately. This is for my fellow fat girls <3

Warnings: Mentions of skipping meals, food in general. Self-deprecating thoughts, somewhat poor communication. Fem!Reader is fat (in all of the slasher!141 AU). Fluff!

You’ve been off lately. During mealtime with the boys, you barely eat, just poke at the food on your plate. It isn’t like you—you’re usually the one to cook and try out all kinds of new recipes to share with your lovers, or baking sweet treats to give them after a hard day—so for you to suddenly have no interest in food is concerning. Tonight is no exception. John made your favorite, beef stew and cornbread (a southern delicacy you taught him how to make), but you just mindlessly stir the stew with your spoon, eyes focused on nothing at all.

     “How was your day, dove?” Kyle tries to break you from your trance, but you only nod.

     “Helped a chicken give birth today,” Simon stares straight at you, ignoring the incredulous looks the other three men give him.

     Still, no sort of reaction from you, other than an uninterested hum. 

     “Ah went tae the doctor earlier,” Johnny says next. “Turns oot ah’m pregnant.”

     “Nice,” you deadpan, completely oblivious to the outrageous lies these dumbasses have been telling you. 

     “Enough,” Price furrows his eyebrows, dropping his spoon with a clang. “Darlin’, you haven’t eaten in two days.”

     This time, you listen. Immediately, you rush to defend yourself, eyes narrowed at the bearded man.

     “I’ve just been fe-”

    “Don’t you give me that bullshit about bein’ sick, either. I’ve seen you sick, and it was completely different than this,” he interrupts, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Speak, baby. Tell us what’s goin’ on in that pretty head o’yours.”

     “It’s nothing,” you grumble.

     Simon sighs dramatically, slapping his palms down on the dining room table to push himself up out of his chair. Before you can protest, he picks you up and sits in your seat, then settles you in his lap. You try to wriggle free, but his hold on you is unwavering. 

     “Stop strugglin’ and tell us wha’ the fuck is wrong w’you,” the blond man grunts, strong arms wrapped around your waist so you can’t move as much. 

     “I hate my body!” You blurt, and the room falls silent. “I-I don’t know what you all see in me. I just… I look gross.”

     Tears build in your eyes and spill past your waterline, streaming down your round cheeks. All four men look at each other wordlessly, unsure of what to say. Their silence breaks your heart, and you manage to wriggle out of Simon’s lap. 

     “I’m going to bed,” you mumble, wiping your eyes with your sweatshirt and moping your way upstairs.

     Your bedroom is the furthest down the hall, the longest walk. Usually this fact doesn’t bother you, but with your state of mind the way it is right now, you can’t help but feel like it’s purposeful. You slam the door shut and lock it, purposefully avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror as you flop into bed. It creaks with your weight, and you let out another sob. 

     You end up crying yourself to sleep, clammy face stuck to your pillow. When you wake up, you find that your door is still locked and try your hardest not to burst into tears all over again. Not one of the boys came to check on you last night? It makes you feel even worse—are you that much of an eyesore that they don’t dare come see if you’re okay? The thought makes your stomach churn. A knock makes itself known on your door, pulling you from your thoughts.

     “Dove? Can you let us in?” Kyle’s soft voice sounds from the hallway. “Please?”

     “We wanna talk to you, sweet girl,” Price’s voice comes next, followed by more pleas from Johnny and Simon.

     With a shaky sigh, you oblige, unlocking the door and swinging it open. When your eyes fall on them, you bite back a gasp—they all look exhausted, puffy bags beneath their bloodshot eyes, frowns tugging their lips downward. You can’t imagine you look any better, but still, your heart aches seeing them look so down.

     “Hey, bonnie,” Johnny instantly brightens up when he sees you, and you have to fight the urge to push him off when he wraps his arms around you. 

     “Hi,” you mutter, impartial to the kiss the Scotsman plants on your temple.

     They all trail into your room nervously, and it’s just then that you notice a large jar in Simon’s arms. Your eyebrows furrow as you sit on the edge of your bed, waiting for one of them to speak up first.

     “I want to start by apologizin’, sweetheart,” John begins, sitting beside you on your bed. “We were all… well, none of us were expectin’ to hear you talk about yourself like that, and we panicked. That wasn’t fair to you.”

     You shrug, eyes focused on your lap. Price reaches out to grab your hand, gently running his thumb across your knuckles. 

     “You are absolutely stunnin’. You are the farthest thing from gross, dove,” Kyle sits on your opposite side, grabbing your unoccupied hand. 

     “Ah think ah speak fer all of us when ah say tha’ we love yer body,” Johnny hums.

     “I’m fat,” you frown, and Simon scoffs.

     “Yeah? And?” He narrows his eyes at you. “We like y’like tha’. More t’grab, more t’love.”

     “I don’t understand why,” you whisper, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously. 

     “What’s not to understand?” John squeezes your hand. “You’re soft, and warm.”

     “The fuckin’ best at cuddlin’, too,” Kyle grins.

     “Great tits,” Johnny butts in, earning himself a jab to the ribcage from Simon. “Och- wha’?! It’s true!”

     “Wha’ the wanker is tryin’ t’say is tha’ you’re perfect. For us, in general—y’complete us, love. Your body is jus’ a plus,” Simon concludes, finally stepping forward to offer you the jar.

     “What’s this?” You ask, carefully pulling your hands out of Kyle and John’s. 

     “We spent all nigh’ gatherin’ up pictures of you tha’ we love,” Kyle explains, watching excitedly as you screw the lid off. 

     Inside, the jar is filled to the brim with photos and polaroid pictures—candids of you baking in the kitchen, napping on the couch, tending to the garden or the animals, even selfies you sent to Johnny when the two of you first started talking online. Mixed in with those is printouts of text messages they’ve all sent each other, fawning over you, some of which dating back to even before you met the others. Tears stream down your face yet again, but instead of being sad, you’re overwhelmed with love and joy from these men you get to call yours.

     “I-I don’t know what to say,” you sniffle, setting down the jar to wipe your eyes.

     “Don’t say anythin’, darlin’, just let us hold you,” John murmurs, pulling you onto the bed and wrapping an arm around your waist.

     Maybe being dogpiled by your four huge husbands on an already creaky bed isn’t the best idea, but hey, all that matters is that you’re happy.

[moamidzyism]

oh, baby (c.bg)

☆。.:*·ﾟwc 1149 smut ౨ৎ minors DNI ˚⁺。˚ // repost ❥ ୧‿︵ req. trying to get pregnant w beomgyu so y'all have been having sex nonstop everytime you're ovulating ୨୧ husband!beomgyu x fem!reader, breeding kink, impreg kink, unprotected sex [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

you and beomgyu had been married for a year and a half when he finally brought up the idea of having kids with you. you were scrolling through your feed in bed one night when you stumbled upon a post from an old classmate at her baby shower. beomgyu absentmindedly responded, i bet our kids would look cuter, prompting the very serious and incredibly long overdue conversation about one day growing your little family. and after that night and some doctor’s appointments, he was determined to get you all pretty and round before the end of the year.

one thing about beomgyu is that he genuinely cannot keep his hands off of you. so on a sunday morning, when he wakes up to an empty space in the bed beside him, he searches for you all over the house before stumbling into you in the kitchen. he sees you making pancakes and can’t help but think about your kids one day running around, helping you cook, and setting the table. he wraps his hands around your waist from behind, his hard cock prodding your ass. nuzzling his head into your neck, he mumbles, good morning, baby. you hum in response, melting into his touch. he takes this as an opportunity to slyly turn off the stove. you whine his name, protesting for him to let you finish cooking. but that doesn’t stop him from pulling you towards the island and hoisting you up on the counter. he looks up at you with a smirk. you’re the only thing i wanna eat this morning, baby.

a few days later you find beomgyu sitting at his desk when you come home from the gym, he glances up at you but his eyes can’t help but stop at your chest glistening with sweat, your boobs spilling out of your tight sports bra. and of course that naturally leads him to fantasize about what your boobs would look like when you’re pregnant, so swollen and so so beautiful. going to take a shower, then we can figure dinner out. you tell him as you retreat to the bathroom. it’s not up to five minutes later when you hear the shower curtain open, your husband slides in behind you. if we’re gonna have a baby, we should start saving on our water bill, don’t you think?

but beomgyu wasn’t the only one who was entirely insatiable. some days, like today for instance, when you spend the entire work day thinking about your husband and how much you need him to fuck you, the last thing you want to see when you come home are his friends sitting around your living room. internally groaning, you wave to them while signaling to beomgyu to follow you into the bedroom.

“your friends.” you state one the two of you are in the privacy of your room.

“what about them?” he asks, his face marked with confusion. you give him a look that conveyed frustration and yearning and the realization dawns on him.

“aww,” he coos. “does someone need me?”

“please can you just tell them to go home?” you whine and without hesitation he leaves the room. you sink into the bed for what feels like an eternity until beomgyu saunters back into the room towards you.

“took you long enough.” you mumble as you pull him closer to you.

“i was gone for five minutes.” he chuckles in response.

“felt like twenty.” you reach up to kiss him passionately, your hands trailing up his torso, taking his t-shirt up with it.

“can we–” he tries to break away from this kiss. “can we slow down?”

“need you so bad.” you mumble against his lips.

“yeah?” he asks coyly.

“yeah,” your hands race to unbutton your work pants. “need you to fuck a baby in me.” beomgyu’s eyes widened. sure, you had both agreed to try for a baby but to hear you say this so explicitly just confirmed for him that his desires to start a family with you weren’t one sided. beomgyu joins you in taking off your clothes, his hands swiftly unbuttoning your shirt, nearly ripping the buttons off.

you’re laying in bed clad in nothing, with beomgyu hovering above you. his gaze falls upon you, tracing your form, as if you were the most alluring thing he’d ever seen.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathes out before leaning down to kiss you. “i know i joke a lot,” he confesses between kisses. “but i want this so bad. you, us, our family. everything.”

he slips his throbbing cock between your warm folds causing you to let out a soft gasp. “me too. i want you. everything.” you parrot his words. he steadily grinds his hip against yours as he stares into your eyes and for a moment it seems like it’s only the two of you in the world.

loosely wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down into a kiss. your hands explore the contours of his body trying to find the best way to keep him in your grasp, to make sure that this was not an eerily realistic dream and he was actually here with you, in you. “i love you.” you moan out clenching around him.

his eyes close shut and a groan erupts from his throat when he feels your walls tighten around him. “fuck, your so… so tight baby.”

beomgyu accelerates his thrusts, his movements becoming sloppier and messier by the second. your hands find themselves resting on the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. he hides his face in the crook of your neck, taking this as an opportunity to paint your skin with marks in between the sloppy kisses he was leaving.

as he inches closer to his climax, you feel his movements slow down as he fucks deeper into you. he’s trying to prolong his orgasm, trying to feel you around him for longer. “m’gonna cum, baby. gonna get you all pretty and pregnant for me. gonna make you a mommy tonight.”

his eyes clouded over as his movements became weaker and hips began to stutter. you let out a loud moan, your eyes fluttering closed when you felt him pumping his load deep inside you, filling you up with his seed.

still inside of you, beomgyu rolls over so you are laying on top of him. he caresses your hair, whispering i love yous between kisses on your forehead. you rest like that, tangled in each others’ arms, for a moment before you convince him to take a shower with you. when you actually get pregnant, you make it a routine to look at your baby bump in the mirror every morning. beomgyu sitting in front of you, tenderly caressing your round belly before pressing a loving kiss and murmuring something about you being the prettiest mommy in the world.

taglist: @atinyniki @boba-beom @dearlyjun @wiisoob @isabellah29

fill out this form to join my taglist! author's note :: I was thinking about this nonstop since I saw the request. anon wherever you are, I need to kiss your brain. you sent this over almost two months before I posted it.. thank you to @sunnylovespickles and @huenation for helping me read this and organize my thoughts

[grabattheseballsss]

Random ghost head cannons because I’m having brain rot <3

Simon ‘simp’ Riley loves to follow you around when you’re doing chores (or anything really)

You have to bring some groceries ? Well, he has a car and two big arms to help you carry whatever you want, plus he can reach anything’s that’s too high for you <3 come on get in the car

Got a doctors appointment ? Of course he’ll be by your side, what if you need moral support ? Come on darling he’s just looking out for you :(

Need to get some supplies for a project you’re randomly interested in? Not only is he coming to check it out but he’s funding all of your little hobbies, he loves seeing his darling so interested in something

If he finds out about your little celebrity crush, he’s so stupidly jealous, just annoying you with questions like “if he and I were in the same room, who are you going to”

“What if I died? and he wanted to marry you would you say yes? Be honest”

“Be honest who’s more good looking, I won’t be mad” (lie)

He’d secretly want to ask you, if he was a worm would you still love him?

Oh and god forbid if he sees you on the couch with little Riley by your side, reading a book, a thin blanket resting on you, this man will nudge his dog off of your lap so he can take a little nap

He’ll wrap his large arms around your waist as he rests his head on your abdomen, and if you wrap your thighs around his neck, good luck paying attention to that book :P

One time he came home from deployment, sneaked into the house to surprise you, and he saw you in the kitchen, two pots on the stove, one left alone and the other has you stirring it, you had a pretty little apron around your waist, Riley was the first to be aware of his sudden arrival, running to her owner as she jumped up and down, happy to see him, you turn around with a gasp, running to your man that you haven’t seen in weeks, still in his uniform, he’d pick you you and take his mask halfway off, bringing your lips together

You’d tell him to go shower while you finish dinner and he’ll just shake his head and wrap his arms around you as you continues cooking.

He’d be spooning you, both of you on the couch, you’re on tiktok and he’s watching over your shoulder, and if you see a thirst trap of a character, and worse if you saved it? He’s crossing his arms, turning around and thrust his butt to push you off of the couch “what? Sorry I don’t think your boyfriend would appreciate you cuddling with this stranger”

You taught him to use these emojis 😒🙄 and he can’t stop using them in every sentence

Simsim 🍑: I’m close to your favourite Chinese place, what do you want 😒

Stinky farts💨: chicken curry and rice please :3

Simsim 🍑: since you asked so nicely 🙄

Stinky farts 💨: ok stop using emojis I hate it

Simsim 🍑: I thought you wanted me to be more expressive

Stinky farts 💨: I take it back, and don’t forget to get me a sprite

Simsim 🍑: ?

Stinky farts 💨: please 🙄🙄🙄

Simsim 🍑: okay 😒😒😒

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 3

Part 2

Tim reached up to rub at his temples and groaned. This was getting him nowhere. Normally he enjoyed going down the research rabbit-hole but this was ridiculous! Paranormal sciences were a bad joke. Most of it was conjecture, hearsay and unprovable theories with just enough scientific sounding jargon peppered in to confuse a layperson. Peer-review was practically non-existent, not to mention a proper scientific method. Francis Bacon would be rolling in his grave!

The slight hiss of the elevator doors opening interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey Replacement, you missed dinner!” Jason called, sauntering over with a loaded plate in hand. He set down a sandwich next to Tim’s elbow. “Alfie says he’s cutting off your coffee supply until you get some damn sleep. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna start prepping the knock-out gas soon!” he quipped, leaning his hip against the Batcomputer’s console. “Research on the League giving you trouble?”

“I wish.” Tim sighed, reaching for the sandwich, “The Assassins have actually been pretty quiet recently. I found some leads on suspicious political donations in Italy, but nothing I can tie to them directly. Talia’s in Paris as far as I can tell, working at an investment firm for God knows what reason. Probably money laundering related. And the ones holed up in Nanda Parbat have been quiet as murderous little church mice.”

“Ra’s isn’t up to anything? Colour me shocked.” Jason drawled sardonically, “You sure he’s not cooking up a new batch of demon spawn in that mountain of his?”

Tim shook his head. “You know Bruce destroyed his cloning labs after the last… incident. And I’ve found no records of the League procuring the necessary materials or equipment to restart production.” he wrinkled his nose, “Of course it’s possible that they used a shell company we haven’t come across yet, but I believe the odds are pretty low.”

“So what’s got your panties in a bunch then?”

Tim’s mouth twisted in a frown. “Ghosts.”

“Ah.”

Jason stared off into space and Tim took a bite of his sandwich. Egg-salad, score! The Cave was silent for a while, only disturbed by the noise of the actual bats heading out for their nightly hunt.

“I can’t tell you for sure if ghosts are real or not. I don’t remember anything from when I was… dead.” Jason said haltingly, and Tim stilled. “But we’ve seen people come back under pretty weird circumstances. So why not ghosts?” Jason shrugged.

Tim chewed and swallowed before replying. “Because it’s one thing for the physical body to be restored, but some kind of nebulous ‘spirit’ lingering? Why don’t we see ghosts all the time then? Why don’t people come back? Why not…” Tim broke off.

“Your Dad?”

Tim nodded and dropped the remains of the sandwich back on the plate. It suddenly looked as appetising as cardboard.

“I don’t know, birdie. We still don’t know why I came back.” Jason snorted “Maybe the universe just has a sick sense of humour.”

Tim’s lips curled up in a mirthless smile. “Maybe the universe missed your terrible puns. Some of those still haunt me.”

Jason barked out a surprised laugh. “That was terrible!”

“The universe clearly made a grave mistake.”

“Stop it, I can feel my brain cells dying!” Jason groaned and gave Tim a light punch to the shoulder.

“Well we can’t have that, you have so few already!” Tim snarked, then quickly leaned to the side to evade Jason’s attempted noogie. Jason huffed and stepped back, crossing his arms.

“All right mister teenage genius. What have you dug up about ghosts then?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “There’s obviously tons of folklore from all over the world. Pretty much every mythology has stories about the spirits or souls of the dead returning to haunt the living. But if there’s a scientific basis to all this then it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Even the supposed leaders in the field are hopelessly biased.” He pulled up some documents on the screen. “Take these for example. The Doctors Fenton are supposed experts in the field of ‘Ecto-Biology’ as they call it, but their research papers would never fly with a proper scientific journal. A lot of it comes across as blatantly xenophobic towards the entities they are supposedly studying and their research methods seem geared towards confirming what they view as foregone conclusions. And most of their peers operate on the same track.”

Jason hummed thoughtfully as he skimmed one of the articles in question. “Do you think there’s anything to this, or is it all just a hoax?”

Tim snorted. “If there is, they haven’t offered any conclusive proof. Though they certainly seem to have made it work for them. The Fentons have a series of patents for weapons and defenses against these supposed ‘ecto-entities’ and it looks like there’s plenty of people gullible enough to buy them. I haven’t taken a closer look at their products yet, but a lot of it looks like something out of a pulp sci-fi movie.” He pulled up the image of what looked like a bazooka with green glowing parts. Jason whistled.

“So, con artists or mad scientists?”

“Could be both. Their financial records are all over the place and they’ve had some large transactions with what I’m pretty sure are shell companies in recent years. They live and operate out of a small city in Illinois.” Tim said, pulling up the relevant documents on screen.

“Amity Park?” Jason read aloud.

“Supposedly it’s ‘The Most Haunted City in America’. Seems on brand, doesn’t it?”

“It probably helps them stay in business. It looks like they have kids?” Jason pointed at the tax returns. Tim typed some search queries into the system.

“Two. One in high school, one just started her first semester at Metropolis University. With a full scholarship to boot.” He spent a few more minutes hacking into the university’s systems. “Here we go, Jasmine Fenton. Looks like she’s going for a psychology degree. And… hm…” Tim trailed off. Jason quickly realised what had caught his attention.

“‘The Damaging Effects of Envy Towards Metahumans? That’s a hell of a topic for a freshman-year essay.” Jason remarked.

“Yes. I wonder…” Tim drummed his fingers on the keyboard. “She might have some insight into her parents’ research.”

“And at a cursory glance, she didn’t drink whatever Kool-Aid her parents were serving.” Jason finished for him. “You wanna go pump her for information?”

“I might as well. If nothing else, maybe we can shut down a couple of mad scientists before they become a problem.” Tim stood up and stretched. “Time for a field trip!”

Part 4

[miley1442111]

hi!!!!! I love your writing so much, and I loved insomniac, and i was wondering if we could get some more aaron and insomniac reader? I just thought it was so cute!!

thank you ml!

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treatment plan (part 1)- a.hotchner

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting, I love this series (as a fellow insomnia girly)

summary: aaron oversteps and it starts a fight.

pairing: aaron hotchner x insomnia! reader

warnings: angst, discussions of insomnia and feeling 'different' because of it, mental health, crying, no happy ending, aaron is an asshole, fighting

part of this au:

insomniac

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Aaron didn’t always know what to do in these situations. He’d never had trouble sleeping, he was lucky like that. He realised very early into your relationship that he was lucky. He didn’t stay up for the simple fact of not being able to sleep often, he wasn’t worrying constantly about whether or not he’d get enough sleep to function the next day, he wasn’t brought to doctor after doctor only to be told the same thing time and again. “Sorry, we can’t help you,” or “No one here specialises in that,” or, his personal least favourite; “You can’t be helped, sorry.”

He knew he was lucky he didn’t have to go through the things you did. He didn’t have to worry about what insomnia would mean for his future health, what not sleeping would do to his body. 

You weren’t lucky. 

Every night was a battle, ever since you were a kid. You’d kick and scream, and even now, often you’d end up in tears. It was awful, and incurable somehow, at least in your case.

Yet, Aaron didn’t want to stop looking for a solution, and that’s how you ended up sleeping at Penelope’s place, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and a dumb rom-com on the TV. 

Fuck him. 

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4 hours earlier. 

Aaron walked into your shared home with his briefcase in his hand. You’d gotten off work an hour ago and come home to cook dinner. You were in the kitchen.

“Hey baby,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he walked in. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then smiled down at you. 

“How are you?” he asked, but everytime he asked, there was another question underneath it, one he’d stopped asking because it would always end in a fight. ‘Did you sleep?’ 

Aaron had left early that morning, and he felt good when he saw you asleep in your bed, and he was as silent as humanly possible while getting ready, so he’d hoped he hadn’t woken you. 

“Fine,” you nodded, going back to your cooking. “Work was boring, but Lucy’s leaving so we have to go to her farewell party on Friday- if you’re around-”

“You have the sleep test on Friday night honey, we can’t go, remember?” 

You sighed. “I cancelled it. I can always do it another time.”

Aaron was in shock. You’d cancelled the appointment? The appointment that was there to help you, to help you feel better. “Why would you do that Bug?”

“Because Lucy is one of my best friends, plus it’s not like the sleep test is going to work, so it doesn’t matter,” you shrugged and Aaron felt his blood boil. 

In recent months, you’d become what he would call ‘complacent’ with your condition. You saw it as accepting it. After years of being told you were incurable, why should you search for a cure? They were the professionals, and you’d seen more than 60 doctors about this, in your entire lifetime. That didn’t bode well with Aaron. He would fight to the ends of the Earth for you, and he planned on trying to fight this for as long as it took, but that would only work if you were fighting too, which you weren’t. 

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “We were on that waitlist for a year Y/n.”

“I was on that waitlist for a year, and I decided I don’t want to do it anymore, it’s my health,” you shrugged and served him up his plate. “Now tell me about your day.”

“We still need to talk about this,” he scolded, sitting across from you at your kitchen table. “You just decided to stop treatment?” His eyes were darker than usual, his signature 'negotiating stare’ trying to make you feel small. Not that Aaron himself was trying to make you small, just that you always felt… different when he looked at you like that. Strange. 

“I don’t know why you can’t grasp that I’ve accepted my condition?” You scoffed. “You don’t need to worry anymore, maybe this will be good for me! I’m always so worried, and so are you, even Jack notices it for fuck’s sake! My insomnia has controlled my entire fucking life, and I’m sick of it, so yes Aaron, I decided to stop treatment,” you weren’t exactly shouting, but you weren’t calm and collected. You were at your wits end, completely. You hadn’t slept in two days, you were bordering on exhausted, and you planned to take one of the sleeping pills you had, (even though you’re slightly allergic), an allergy medication, and sleep for 15 hours straight. You were very happy Jack wasn’t meant to be back from his cousin’s house until at least after 4pm tomorrow. 

“That sleep study is the closest we’ve ever been! Why would you cancel it? I understand you’re frustrated-” he started, but you cut him off. 

“You don’t understand Aaron. You don’t understand. How could you? When you go to sleep, it’s simply that, sleep. To me it’s so much more, so much anxiety, so many negative thoughts, so much awful shit, so many shitty sleeples nights since I was a fucking kid! And you don’t understand that, and I'm not asking you to, but I’m asking you to accept my decision over my body Aaron. I can’t deal with this anxiety anymore around something as simple as sleeping. I feel like I have no control anymore, so this is me taking back control Aaron-” You felt yourself welling up with tears. His face was set in stone, silently judging you.

“There’s better ways to take back control of your life Y/n-”

“Tell me!” you shouted. He stayed silent. “Exactly.”

“This isn’t healthy, you’re going to hurt yourself more Y/n,” he cautioned and you scoffed, a sick smile on your face, bred from your frustration and desperation. 

“Aaron, what more damage can I do to myself?-”

“I don’t want to wake up someday and have you not remember me!” He shouted. That was low. You were terrified of memory loss diseases like Alzheimer’s and Dementia. 

You stared at him for a minute, small tears pushing past your ‘emotionless’ exterior. “That was low Aaron.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“No it’s not, it’s your truth. Don’t mix that up,” you cautioned. 

“Am I not allowed to be worried about my fiance?” he asked, but in that stupid condescending voice that made you want to smack him. 

“Aaron please just stop,” you groaned, looking down into your food. This was going to turn into a lecture. This was going to break you. You were right on the edge, hanging on by a thread. And Aaron cut it clean with his next words. 

“You’re being selfish.” 

You blocked the rest of his speech out. Selfish. You were selfish. Selfish was silently crying so he could sleep. Selfish was indulging every single one of his stupid sleep tests and doctors even if you were in pain and exhausted. Selfish was being poked and prodded by doctor after doctor that he brought you to, in hopes of finding a cure. Selfish was hiding your condition’s worst parts (migraines, mood swings, anxiety, memory loss,and everything else) so he wouldn’t worry.

Right, you were selfish. 

You got up and grabbed your jacket, keys, and phone, and you left the house. You ran into your car, Aaron hot on your heels with his booming voice screaming over you, pushing you further. Your car was cold, thus the pleasures of Washington. You shrugged it off and started driving, Aaron was trying to stop you, you didn’t let him. 

Fuck him, he was the selfish one. 

You drove to Penelope’s without another thought, just letting yourself cry. You couldn’t let this condition define you anymore, and you won’t let it define your relationship either. If Aaron didn’t understand that, maybe he wasn’t the right one. 

---------------------

With the shitty rom-com over and Penelope heading for bed, you made your makeshift bed on the couch, and tried as hard as you could to sleep, but you ended up just thinking about it all, all night long. 

What a great Friday night.

---------------------

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[fandoms-x-reader]

Autistic! MC

Requested By: @g0dwat3r

Summary: The brothers' reaction to finding out MC has autism and certain food aversions. Word Count: 2,655

You used every ounce of your strength to try not to make a noise or facial expression of disgust as you placed the fork in your mouth, immediately regretting your decision to do so.

If you had been by yourself, you would have immediately spit the food out and pushed the plate far out of your sight.

But, unfortunately, you were sitting at the dining table with all seven of the demon brothers, eating a meal that Asmo claimed to have made especially for you since he was on cooking duty.

You didn’t want to offend the fifth-born and there wasn’t really much else to eat in the House of Lamentation thanks to Beel’s ravenous appetite.

So, you forced the food down, pleading with your body not to reject it.

You’d been doing this since your arrival in the Devildom. Whenever there was something you considered particularly unpleasant, you would do your best to force the food down and put on a smile while doing so only to later then have to throw it up.

No matter how hard you tried, the texture and taste ended up bothering you too much.

You had been so careful about not letting the others catch on to what you were doing after dinner those nights, anxious about how they would look at you if they found out the truth.

But, tonight, there was something specific in Asmo’s meal that was driving you crazy.

You tried to ignore the feeling and eat another bite, but the more you tried not to think about it, the more bothered you got.

Eventually, it led to you dismissing yourself from the table prematurely.

The brothers watched with concern as you left the dining room but they continued to eat their meals, albeit in silence.

They were only able to sit there for a few minutes until the absence of your presence became unbearably uncomfortable and one of them decided to go check on you.

Lucifer had been worried about you since the moment you stood up.

He hadn’t ever seen you leave the table so early into dinner or so quickly, So, he figured something must have been wrong.

He knocked on your door, attempting to be respectful. But, when you didn’t respond, he invited himself in.

He didn’t see you anywhere in your room and was about to call out your name when he heard you throwing up in the bathroom.

His eyes widened for a brief moment, not expecting to find you in a sick state.

He wanted to help but he wasn’t sure if you wanted him to enter the bathroom.

He opted to wait until you were done.

As soon as the bathroom door was open, Lucifer approached you and gently led you over to your bed, having you sit down.

His hands moved quickly as he pulled out his D.D.D. He wanted to call Diavolo and have him send over the doctor to check on you.

You stopped him though, placing your hand over his and pushing his D.D.D. down, reassuring him that you were fine. 

He didn’t believe you for a second, he heard you throwing up in the bathroom.

If you didn’t want him to call the doctor to give you a diagnosis, then you better tell him why you aren’t feeling well. 

You let out a small sigh before explaining the situation to him, admitting to everything.

Lucifer’s pride was a bit hurt by your confession. How had he not picked up on the fact that you were hiding something like this from him?

He doesn’t care what your reasons are. Didn’t you know that he would have done whatever he could to help you?

He’ll have you write a list of all the foods you can’t stand to eat and all the foods you like and he’ll make sure those are all taken into consideration when making your food.

Even if the brothers had to make something extra on the side just for you, he knew none of them would put up a fight.

And if they dared to - he would be more than happy to string them up for it.

“Please be honest with me in the future. I can’t stand to see you in pain over something I can fix.”

Mammon is the opposite of his older brother when it comes to respecting your privacy.

He had a bad habit of barging right into your room without so much as a knock when he wanted to see you.

And nothing was different when he entered your room today.

However, he was not expecting to hear you throwing up in the bathroom.

Mammon froze for a moment as if trying to confirm what he heard.

And when he heard you throw up again, he decided to barge into the bathroom as well.

He panicked slightly when he saw the state you were in and helped you in whatever way he could.

Holding your hair back - check. Rubbing your back - check.

He doesn’t care if you think it’s embarrassing. He isn’t going anywhere.

When you’re done, he’ll make sure you’re nice and cozy in your bed before interrogating you like you just stole his favorite treasure.

You knew that Mammon wouldn’t drop this until you told him why you were throwing up so you decided to give in and tell him what was going on.

At first, Mammon was confused - what was this Autism thing you were telling him about?

But after you explained what it was and how you had been hiding it from him this whole time, he’s pouting. 

Didn’t you trust your first man?

You’ll have to reassure him that it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, you just didn’t want to burden him with it.

Although autism was fairly common in the human world, it wasn’t something that existed in the Devildom because their biology was completely different.

Mammon turns into your bodyguard real quick. He now sees mealtimes as an opportunity to protect you from anything you don’t like.

He doesn’t care if he has to make a scene to get you something you like. 

He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re not hiding things from him again and to make sure you don’t have to force yourself to eat food you don’t like.

“Don’t ya worry, the Great Mammon will make sure you’re taken care of!”

Levi wanted to be dismissed from dinner early as well so he didn’t blame you for doing so. 

He fully believed that you just wanted to go and do something more fun and entertaining. 

Maybe you had an anime you wanted to watch or a new game you wanted to play!

He had just gotten a new game and that’s why he wanted to leave early, so the idea wasn’t completely far-fetched to him.

But when he entered your room and heard you retching in the bathroom, he went into full-blown panic mode.

What was wrong with you? Were you sick? Did you have one of those normie diseases or infections like the stomach flu??

You exited the bathroom a moment later and you jumped slightly when you saw Levi standing there.

He had been so quiet, you didn’t even hear him come in. 

The two of you were caught in a stalemate, neither one of you moving first.

You assumed he had heard you but you weren’t positive and you didn’t want to out yourself if you didn’t have to.

And he was trying to figure out what to say. He was trying to figure out what he could do to help.

When you finally explain the situation to Levi, his immediate reaction is to go the self-deprecating route.

Of course, you’d keep something like this from - who would want to tell their secrets to a yucky otaku?

But he decides to not make this about him and he asks you what he can do to help.

He understands not wanting to have your business out in the open for everyone to see, but he doesn’t want you hiding it anymore.

He has access to tons more food options thanks to his premium Akuzon membership and he’ll get you whatever food you want to eat.

“You’ll never have to eat that stuff again!” 

Being the most observant of his brothers, Satan could tell that something was off about you when eating meals.

He assumed that you just needed a bit of an adjustment period to get used to the Devildom food. After all, it was completely different from any human world food.

But Satan was mistaken in the severity of the situation and that realization only dawned on him when he heard you throwing up in the bathroom. 

Had it been this bad this whole time?

Satan moved to help you but when he reached the door, you were already opening it.

The two of you locked eyes for a moment before he helped you over to your bed. 

He immediately ran a full health check on you.

He’s feeling your forehead for a fever, making sure your eyes aren’t dilated, checking your pulse. He even tried to look in your throat when you stopped him, assuring him that you weren’t sick.

Satan was beyond confused when you told him that. He knew that vomiting was a symptom of being sick so why were you telling him you weren’t?

You took a moment to find the right wording and then explained your autism to Satan and how certain foods just bother you.

Satan was surprised when you told him. With all of the reading he did, how had he not heard about this before?

Would you tell him more about it?

Satan will do tons of research on autism and make sure he’s an expert in the subject so that if something like this ever comes up again, he knows you to assist you.

He’ll go through the checklist in the information book he found and ask you which of the things on the list you’re sensitive to so that he can be on the lookout for them.

“You know you can always come to me for help, Y/N.”

Asmo was freaking out when you left dinner early. 

Since he was the one who cooked dinner, he immediately started going through all of the steps in his mind, making sure he didn’t add in any ingredients that could be dangerous to a human.

It was a new meal that you hadn’t tried, so maybe you were just so blown away by Asmo’s cooking abilities!

He wanted to believe that - but when he reached your room and heard you throwing up in the bathroom, he knew that it wasn’t true.

Asmo felt really guilty. He tried so hard to make you something that you liked. He didn’t mean to make you sick!

When you opened the door to the bathroom, you saw Amso standing there with tears and worry in his eyes.

He started apologizing profusely, afraid you wouldn’t forgive him for cooking you something you didn’t like.

You immediately moved over to comfort him and assure him that he didn’t do anything wrong.

He asked you what exactly about the meal you didn’t like so that he could avoid making the same mistake in the future.

And that forces your hand to explain your autism to him.

Asmo is surprised to hear the truth but so supportive of what you're sensitive to.

He’ll make an extra effort to make sure you’re comfortable in whatever situation you’re in.

Please don’t force yourself to eat things that bother you anymore.

Throwing up that often is terrible for your body!

“I’m here for you, hun.”

Beel didn’t think twice about you leaving the dinner table early at first. He was too distracted enjoying everything that Asmo made to eat.

But he felt the uncomfortable tension that fell over the table and then he began to think more about the situation.

Why would you leave dinner early? Were you not hungry? 

But, he hadn’t seen you eat anything earlier so that couldn’t have been it. 

Beel practically inhaled the food on his plate before getting up to go check on you. 

Like Mammon, when he heard you throwing up, he immediately rushed into the bathroom to help you.

His eyes were filled with concern as you threw up. Was it something serious?

He moved you to your bed when you were done and he immediately started asking you what humans needed to feel better.

Was it soup? A warm blanket? He could get Satan to track down some medicine!

You stopped Beel from panicking when you placed your hand on his arm to bring him back to reality. 

You told him that you didn’t need medicine and that you only threw up because the food was bothering you.

Beel was confused by your statement. What do you mean it was bothering you?

You explained everything to Beel, including how after some meals you can’t help but throw up because of the taste and texture.

Beel is devastated at the news. Everyone should enjoy their meals!

If you didn’t like the food, you should have told him! He would have done whatever was necessary to make sure you had food that you could not only eat but enjoy.

Beel will make sure you always have food that you like at meal times and if there’s anything else that bothers you, he’ll find a way to help you with that too.

“Whatever you need - I’ll make sure you have it.”

Belphie had fallen asleep at the dining room table. So, he didn’t realize when you stood up from your seat and left.

It was the sound of Beel setting his plate down a little too eagerly that jolted Belphie awake.

And when he did wake up, his eyes immediately searched for you. 

Where did you go?

Belphie asked his brothers what happened and when they told him you just up and left, he decided to investigate.

He entered your room with the full intention of taking a nap with you, but he didn’t see you in your room.

He decided to slip under the covers anyway and wait for you. 

He had nearly fallen back asleep when he heard you throw up.

His eyes snapped open as he quickly sat up in your bed, staring at the bathroom door.

You exited a few moments later and stopped in your tracks when you saw Belphie sitting in your bed under your covers.

You let out a small sigh before simply getting in the bed next to him. You weren’t in the mood to kick him out.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked simply.

Part of you wanted to scoff at how straightforward he was and part of you wanted to ignore his question entirely.

But he knew how to push your buttons in all of the right ways and he will keep pestering you until you tell him what's going on.

Don’t believe him? Please try him.

With a groan of frustration, you explained everything to Belphie who was once again looking shocked - this time at your words.

You didn’t know how to react when, at the end of your explanation, he laid down on top of you and merely stated, “Okay.”

Did you expect him to react differently? To see you in a different light? Because he didn’t. 

You were still the same Y/N he loved.

He wouldn’t tell you this, but he started paying more attention to things that made you uncomfortable and if he notices it, he’ll immediately take care of the problem.

And if he finds out that you’re forcing yourself to eat food you don’t like for the sake of others again, he’ll throw, he’ll make a huge deal out of it.

“I’ll take care of you.”

[pedge-page]

#6 Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: NOT Hungry

can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: fluff, brief puking, Joel being an overreactive sensitive bitch

- - - -

Ever since your fourth date with Joel, where you spent the evening at his apartment, and he made you his homemade empanadas while you two discussed your favorite books and movies, you were hooked. Not just to the man who would eventually be your husband and baby daddy, but to his immaculate cooking as well.

So now, years later with a ring on your finger and both of your and Joel’s belly a little fuller—okay, yours a LOT fuller—you find yourself gawking at him, propped up on the kitchen island in a high chair you took 4 minutes to climb atop, feet swaying in the air, elbows resting on the granite countertop, palms holding your chin with beady heart eyes as Joel finishes plating his hot homemade dish for you.

“Blow on it, babe. It’s hot,” he warns, not too keen on having you burn your tongue again due to your impatience. He holds a fork out as you drag the plate in front of you.

“Yes you are, handsome.”

He shakes his head, not caring that he’s blushing hard. It’s not difficult for him to admit that having you gush over his cooking for years makes him extremely proud, excited, and even more in love with you.

You can’t tell if the gurgling, rumbling summersaults in your middle is the baby kicking or your stomach growling, neither of which bother you in the slightest as you splinter the hot shell, pausing to waft the steam of shredded chicken, glazed onions and corn, a hint of his secret secret secret ingredient (its a touch of sugar—but you don’t want him to know you know), and then—

You stop, fork held in front of your mouth like the Choo Choo train hit the breaks before it could dock with the station. And suddenly something doesn’t feel very pleasant, and your senses are off, strangely, for something that should be glorious and pleasurable consuming you is now —extremely unpleasant, almost—

You drop the fork with a clatter to the plate and b-line straight to the bathroom, barely bending to your knees to the tiled floor as you hurl your stomach into the basin. 

It only lasts for a few seconds, your stomach being relatively empty with no dinner having made its way down there. You wash your hands, and mouth, and then sadly waddle back into the kitchen.

“Um, Joel, I don’t think the baby likes them,” you say meekly, rubbing your hand over your belly who punches your ribcage with dignified agreement.

Joel looks at you, face plain, lips in a thin line with an unreadable expression. He calmly places the pan back on the stove, wiping his hand with the washcloth. The kitchen feels scarily quiet. Joel then puts both hands flat on the counter, holding himself up, gritting his teeth back and forth. He brings his eyes to you, with such a chilling seriousness that it sends you into shivers. 

“And might I ask who’s baby you got growing’ in there then?”

EXCUSE ME?

“Joel what—what the fuck—“

“Cuz no baby o’MINE would EVER dislike my empenadas. So I’ll ask you again, who’s baby do y’got growing inside you?”

“Are you fucking serious. Because the baby doesn’t like your greasy food, I’m suddenly a cheater?”

“I’m just sayin—“

“Fuck off Joel,” you seethe, not sure if you should be trembling in rage or laughter. “The baby. Doesn’t. Like. It. Grow up. The doctor said this could happen.”

Yeah, he was there, he knows, but Jesus, it was more plausible to believe his baby wouldn’t like collard greens or strawberry ice cream, not … his fabulous abuelas homemade receipt of empanadas that his wife has adored ever since she first tried it!

Joel pulls his hands off the counter, wringing them in shame with pouty lips. “M’sorry. That was—that was wrong o’me to way that. I don’t—I know you wouldn’t…”

He struggles to suppress the little sniffle under all that macho, and suddenly you’re paddling over to him, soothingly gliding your hand over the expanse of his muscled back, kissing his massive shoulder. 

“Awww, are you upset your baby doesn’t like them?”

“M’not upset,” he pouts unconvincingly. “Just—what if after you pop the kid, you still don’t like ‘em either? Then who am I gonna cook ‘em for?”

“Tommy?”

“Fuck that man-child. He can make his own shit.”

You giggle into his arm, nuzzling your face into his denim shirt. You inhale the smell of him, the mix of pine, wood and mint, a little bit of sweat, enough that its blocking the nauseating scent of the grease in the air and suddenly you feel a wave of calm wash over you, relaxed in his gentle embrace. 

You smile, carding your fingers through his and bringing his flat hand to the base of your tummy. 

“I promise: this baby is definitely yours. So calm now because Daddy’s scent is here to comfort her.”

Joel’s lips curl into a smile, welcoming the touch of warmth cradled by your rounded belly. “Still think it’s a girl?”

You cup his face, bringing him to you as you plant a loving kiss on the scruffy patch on his peppered cheek.

“I know it.”

- - - -

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[valgodd]

You sit in the waiting room of the doctors office, nervously fidgeting your hands. It’s time for the annual health check up. You sure had a good year, the trousers digging into your belly are proof of that.

A nurse calls your name. Are you imagining things, or did she she do a double take when she saw you, her eyes lingering slightly over your pudgy mid section? She offers you a polite, professional smile though, and lead you into the office.

The doctor, a graying fit man man in his late fifties, sits behind his desk, endorsed in paper work.

”Welcome mr/ms Y/N” he murmurs. He glances at you over his spectacles, his eyes sweeping over your red, round cheeks, budding double chin and protrouding belly. ”Well you certainly look… healthy. Shall we get started?” He gestures towards an old fashioned manual steele scale. You step on it with a loud *clonk*. The doctor raises an eyebrow and adjusts the metal weight until the scale is in balance. He looks in his notes and scoffs, almost sounding amused.

”Well well… you were close to underweight last time we weighed you. Now however… you seem to have fattened up quite nicely.”

You swallow, feeling very self concious.

”H-how much have I gained?”

”It seems to be… almost sixteen kilos”

”Sixteen kilos?” That was more than you had expected. 

”Sixteen kilos” the doctor confirms ”Thats… quite much in just a years time.”

”Well there obviously must me something wrong with your scale” you say with an akward laugh. The doctor smirks. ”The scale is perfectly fine, I asssure you. Any… changes of habits recently?”

”Well…” you are tempted to lie, but the doctor looks at you sternly. 

”Well what?”

”Uhm I guess I… relaxed a bit recently” you admit ”I-I moved in with my partner… They’ve been cooking a lot for me… And I haven’t gone to the gym as… frequently as I used to” your voice trails off.

”Uhuh. That explains alot, doesnt it? Well, last time I saw you, you were a scrawny little thing and you sure needed to put on a few. Sixteen kilos though… That’s overdoing it. You need to get rid of that gut” the doctor pats your tummy condencendingly. 

”Yes doc” you say and and clench your jaws. How could you have let yourself go like this? Why didn’t anybody tell you you were getting so big?

”We should measure your body fat to, dear. Pull up your shirt for me, will you?”

You reluctantly pull up your shirt and reveal a pale, squishy midsection.  The doctor takes a metal clisp and take a firm grip on your belly roll between his thumb and indexfinger. You feel the cold metal against your skin, and winces as the clisp pinches you.

”Godness me…” he murmurs. You swallow. ”Well you certainly haven’t been starving” the doctor chuckles as he scribbles down some notes in his papers. ”So… tell your partner to cut down on the butter and cream in their cooking. It really isnt doing you any favours. Maybe go on some brisk walks together. By next year, I want to see you trimmed down. Okay?”

You nod and manage a polite smile.

After the meeting, your partner meets you up outside the doctors office. They give you brief kiss on the lips and squeeze your sides. 

”How was the doctors appointment love?”

”Well…”

”You look upset, is everything alright?”

You sigh.

”Well the doctor told me I had gained too much weight” you murmur.

”Oh love…”

”Yeah… god it was so humiliating” you press your palms against your eyes, feeling tears burn under your eyelids. Your partner pulls you into an embrace.

”My poor baby… Hey hey…. Shh… Its okay, its okay... We’ve had a good year, haven’t we? Its been so nice to see you eat whatever you want, to your hearts content. I would hate him to ruin that for you love”

You nod, sniveling. Your partner strokes your belly in calming circles.

”Screw him. Tell you what love” your partner lowers their voice to a whisper ”I just made your favourite eclairs. The ones with chocolate cream. Why dont we go home and have some?”  

You can’t help but light up.

”Oh yes those are my favourite” you murmur longingly with a moan, feeling your mouth water. 

”Hey I knew that would put a smile on your  face” you partner chuckles and pinches your chubby cheek lovingly ”Lets go home dear, let me take care of you”

[gomu-fer]

Withered

Sanji x gardener!reader

Warnings: fluff with a little angst, mentions of sickness and fainting, fem reader

Word count: 1,526 words

Summary: In which you got sick because you worked so hard. From my gardener!reader series but can be read as a stand alone.

⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

“SANJI IT’S NOT FAIR” Luffy screamed while throwing himself at the cook who was busy prepping vegetables “Luffy we already told you that because y/n is sick the garden is not in conditions for us to eat stuff from it” Nami said for like a millionth time that day.

You had fainted yesterday morning and have had a fever since, you were still very weak, because of this, your powers affected all the plants around the ship… and Sanji’s mood apparently, he had already gone trough half a box of cigarettes and it was just past noon.

“But you’re making something why can’t I have some?” The captain whined once more “This is all the vegetables I could salvage from the garden and its all going to y/n’s soup so she can get better sooner” he explained as patiently as he could. Since the garden was withering the food rations were now just half, and obviously the most affected form this was Luffy since he wasn’t having any snacks between dinners. “I’ve never seen her sick like this” sighed Nami a little worry in her eyes “Don’t worry! We have the best doctor in the world! He’ll take care of her!” Luffy exclaimed, he noticed how Sanji tensed at Namis comment, breath shaky “You know she’s strong, she’ll be fresh as a fruit in no time!” he said while patting Sanji’s back smiling brightly.

He took the vegetable soup steaming hot and walked to your room, opened the door ever so slowly so he wouldn’t make any noise and wake you up. He was greeted with Chopper sitting beside your bed with a cold towel in your forehead “How is she?” Sanji asked in a whisper “Better that yesterday but still has a little fever, she’ll be up in a day or two” Chopper explained with worry… there was something he wasn’t telling for sure “Is it just a fever?” Sanji positioned the soup in the nightstand beside you while looking at the doctor who had started to sweat “Oh yeah yeah just… just that no biggie he he” He answered quickly while looking away from the cook. Sanji tensed, eyes twitching “Chopper…” he went down to his eye level “It wouldn’t be really professional if you lied to me about a patient diagnosis would it?” the reindeer panicked “She made me promise! Confidentiality with my patients comes first!”

There it was… The blonde sighed and massaged his temples “If you don’t tell me I’ll probably go insane” there was a pause, the doctor was getting worried not only about you but now also about Sanji, he looked so disheveled, big bags under his eyes, hair all over the place, his smell of cigarettes stronger than other days and instead of having his neatly tuxedo on he had just thrown in a shirt, no tie, with a couple loosed buttons… he looked like he was going insane. “Fine, just because I know you care a lot” he started “She fainted because she had pushed her body too far. In our last fight with the marines she used her powers to protect us too long and didn’t rest properly” he paused to look at you “Her body is just asking for a break, I scolded her because this is not the first time she ends up sick because of this, and she asked me to keep it a secret”

Of course you did… you always overworked yourself and Sanji couldn’t do anything about its since he did that too, how ironic. He looked back at where you slept, you looked so peaceful for someone so sick, your hair covering the pillow like a spider web and your mouth parted a little. “I gave her medicine and the fever has gone down but she needs to rest!”

“Thank you Chopper I’ll take care of her now” the cook sat at the end of the bed as the reindeer left the room quietly

He admired you for a moment, worry shaking trough his body. You’ve been a straw hat for a long time now, and still felt like you owed everyone. “Sunlight” he spoke up. As he removed hairs from your face, you groaned and wiggled under the covers, scrunched your face as you opened your eyes trying to focus on the man before you “There you are” he said feeling a little better since he could look at your eyes once more.

“Sanji?” You yawned and stretched before you felt a stinging pain travel trough your muscles that made you groan “Take it easy dear” Sanji stood up and helped you sit on your bed “It’s ok I got it” slowly but surely you made yourself comfortable. “Made you this” Your eyes widened a smiled was painted on your face “Oh god I most be dreaming!” you let out a laugh that made Sanji feel lighter, softer. How could you still be bright as day while you’re sick? “Thank you! You didn’t had to tho” you tried to take the plate from his hands but he backed up “Slow down there sweetheart” he grinned playfully “Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a sick woman eat by herself?” Maybe you should get sick more often if it meant having this kind of treatment form the cook, your whole face turned all shades of red and you stiffened. But the day you decline Sanji’s food, is the day you’ve gone mad, so you leaned and took the spoonful.

You happily ate the whole plate between chatter laughs and shared stares “Sanji I really don’t know how you manage to outdo yourself every time!” You always made sure the cook knew how amazing his skills were, which always made him smile proud and puff out his chest feeling absolutely unstoppable “Thank you dear” you smiled and thanked him for the hundred time “Can you do me a favor Sanji? Before you leave?” The mentioned felt his legs babble at the way his name left your lips, whenever you asked him something, which was very rare because you’re not the type to ask for help for anyone, your voice always flowed in such a way, like a soft plead, that made Sanji’s breath and heartbeat stop “Anything dear!”

“Could you open the blinds for me?” without missing a beat he opened them so that the sun could pour in your room, you closed your eyes and sighed in satisfaction, taking in the rays of sun like a flower opening her petals Sanji thought, you looked angelic

“Can I now ask you something y/n” your eyes opened in fear, whenever the blonde cook called you by your name without nothing endearing attached to it he was about to say something really serious “Of course” all your attention was on him who sat now in the chair next to you so he could see you better and closer “Why are you overworking yourself?” a silence was followed, nervousness hanged in the air piercing both of your ears, you’ve talked about this with Sanji before but nothing ever this serious. You looked at him and notice his weary eyes, you sighed “I… don’t know” your eyes ran away from his face “I just want to be of use for everyone in the crew… did Chopper said something?” The cook nodded with a little guilt as you covered your face in your hands, embarrassed to be somehow a burden.

“You all make me so happy, so this is my way to pay you back” you offered a smile as Sanji sat there, wordless, it was like he was hearing his own thoughts, your hearts were so much alike that it stunted him sometimes, so, he said what he would like to hear himself “You’re not a tool or a maid, you’re a strawhat” he leaned in to take your hand in his “Luffy invited you to join this crew not only because of your powers or strength, but also because he believes in you and likes you… as so do I” you felt your eyes water a bit which made the blondes heart hurt “Your health and happiness is important to everyone in the crew”.

You sighed and hugged Sanji, tightly and with such eagerness and grateful you could always count on him to make you feel wanted and important, you were always strong and kind in front of everyone but he always managed to get your vulnerable side out “Thank you Sanji, I promise I won’t do that ever again” you whispered in his ear, Sanji felt like floating, your hug was so full of love that made his head spin, heart pounding hard and pink creeping trough his neck, you were so sweet “But I must ask you the same, please let me help you too” he stiffened, he sure wasn’t ready for that talk.

He cleared his throat before pulling out of your embrace which hurt him like hell and taking the plate “You don’t worry that pretty head of yours dear” he walked towards your door “I’ll keep an eye on you cook!”

Oh please, do~

⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

I sweat next one in the series would be a confession I had this idea and got carried away lol, as always you can request what you wanna read about these two and correct me if I made any mistakes English is not first language!