#AVOIDING MEDICAL CARE (AGAIN) TO REACH HIM

[chandralia]

trying to casually explain katsuki’s devotion to izuku is impossible because why does it go from helping him train to RISKING HIS LIFE FOR HIM in a split second

[pathologicalreid]

always, i'll wait | s.r.

in which spencer dedicates himself to pulling you out of your depressive state

margotober

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: severe depressive episode, dissociation, medication, reader not taking care of herself, not eating, death, corporeal mark word count: 2.16k a/n: if even one person understands what i was doing when i wrote this then i can die happy. based on this request! i hope you enjoy!

The cushion beneath you was slowly becoming displaced. Your body descends into the cavernous no man’s land that is the crevice of your couch as you stare straight ahead. The TV screen went dark moments ago. The blackness following the Are you still there? screen of your show.

Tugging the knit blanket you had curled up with last night under your chin, you close your eyes, the tears that were welling falling sideways down your face until they land on your flattened pillow. The blanket still smells like Spencer, and you can’t help but wonder how long it’ll take before the scent of his tea tree shampoo fades away entirely.

You could lay on the couch for the rest of your life, and you’d still never be able to understand your actions from the past few days. Distracting yourself from the ache in your heart by wondering if your decomposing body would leave a corporeal mark on your couch.

When you open your eyes and find all too familiar ones staring back at you, the only reasonable explanation is that you’re already dead. You’re dead and your punishment is having Spencer Reid give you puppy dog eyes for the rest of your eternal damnation.

And you’d deserve it.

“How long have you been lying here?” Spencer asks you, using the coffee table for support as he shifts from a squat to a kneel. Tentatively, his hand rests on the couch cushion, just in front of yours.

You blink absently in response. Not only are you being forced to look at the man whose heart you broke, but he’s seemingly intent on making you face the fact that you’ve been on the couch since last night.

The concern deepens on Spencer’s face when you don’t respond, “Can you hear me?”

In the back of your mind, you wonder how he managed to get into your apartment without a key, but you don’t air this concern to him, you just look at him.

Slowly, he reaches into his pocket, typing out a quick message on his phone before leaving the device face down on your coffee table. “Honey, will you talk to me?”

Wanting to avoid the visage of your ex-boyfriend in front of you, you let your eyes fall shut again, grunting when your punishment grows sentient and gently shakes your shoulder.

“Hey, uh uh, eyes open,” he chides, revealing himself as the real version of Spencer.

You frown at him, partially in disbelief and partially in distaste, “What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice garbled from lack of use.

His concern softens slightly at the sound of your voice, “No one’s heard from you in two days.”

Lifting your head from the pillow, your eyes widen slightly, “Days?”

Spencer nods in confirmation, “Have you been on the couch this whole time?”

Furrowing your brows, you rest your head back on the pillow, “No, I’ve been… It was… what?”

Gently, he reached out and rested a hand on your head, gently using the pad of his thumb to gently smooth hairs from your forehead, “What’s the last thing you remember?” His question holds no accusation, the honey-sweet tone nearly enough to make your bottom lip quiver.

“Breaking up with you,” you breathed. The text that you had sent in a flurry of tears being the only thing that resurfaced in your memory.

Hi, we’ve gotta break up. Sorry.

Admittedly, it wasn’t the most eloquent text message that you have ever written, but at the time, you weren’t yourself. At least now you knew that you were in the early stages of a dissociative episode. “I broke up with you,” you repeated, more for yourself than for him. “What are you doing here?”

Softly, Spencer smiled at you, cupping your cheek before standing up and grabbing your TV remote, switching the screen from the muted black of standby mode to the pitch black of being completely off. “Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat, “That won’t work for me.”

Peering up at him, you prop your head up in your hand, “What do you mean?” Confusion ruminated through your already troubled mind.

He raised his eyebrows, went over to the curtains, and opened them, allowing rays of light to stream into your living room, the daylight made you cringe, but eventually, your eyes would adjust. “You do not get to drop off the face of the Earth. I won’t let you get lost like that,” he told you, his sugar-coated tone cracking as he grew sterner.

Spencer never minded the way you sank to the bottom of your brain, he was always willing to make the trek to rescue you, but you didn’t want that anymore. “Well, I’m up now,” your body was beginning to settle into your skin once again, “You don’t have to stay.”

Your boyfriend—the jury was still out on that one—scoffed in response, sitting himself down on the corner of your coffee table, “Fine, I’ll just wait here until you can give me a valid explanation for ending our relationship via text message.”

Parting your lips, you hauled yourself to a sitting position, “I thought… I didn’t—” No, he completely had you there. You owed him more than a text message, but you didn’t have the dignity to face him. You knew he’d talk sense into you.

“What happened two nights ago?” Spencer asked, resting his elbows on his knees and watching you intently. “Did something happen to you that you felt like you couldn’t share with me?”

Shaking your head, you reached up and wiped your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, “No, nothing like that.”

His expression softened, looking at you, desperate for an explanation, “Then what was it, baby? You know you can tell me anything.”

Your throat burned with emotion, and holding back tears didn’t take any effort—your body was so devoid of water that none even bothered to form. Even so, you hiccupped a dry sob, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the sound, “I didn’t want you to have to worry about me.”

Spencer’s face fell. Your heart broke even more than it had when you sent that text, “I tried to text you back. I called you. Everyone called you.”

You hadn’t the slightest idea where your phone was, patting around the couch for any sign of it. “I didn’t hear anything,” you frowned, unsure where it had ended up.

“Are you missing time?” He asked, checking in on where exactly you were mentally.

Nodding, you leaned into the couch cushions. You couldn’t account for anything the night before last, you had sent that text and disappeared into the depths of your own mind. An organ that was necessary for survival playing wicked games with your life.

His lips parted, readying himself to ask a question that he clearly didn’t want to, “Are you off your medication?”

You flinched at his question, screwing your eyes shut and nodding again. “They’re at the pharmacy,” you told him, “My head hurts.”

“You’re coming back,” he said, watching the way your eyes flittered around the room anxiously. “Have you eaten anything?”

His question was innocent enough, but you found yourself unaware of the answer. Surely you had eaten something in the last twenty-four hours, you hadn’t been truly withering away on your couch—had you? The tremble of your hands told a completely different story, you steepled your fingers together to keep them from shaking.

Taking your silence as a response in and of itself, Spencer nodded, “Do you want breakfast?”

“I don’t want you to take care of this,” you told him, the response coming out harsher than you had initially intended.

Realization washed over Spencer’s features, looking at your situation in a completely new light. “That’s what this is?” Hurt seeped into his voice, cocking his head to the side, “Baby, you’re warping your need for independence into a reason to push me away. Why?”

Taking a ragged breath, you shrugged helplessly at him, “You’ve spent your whole life taking care of people, and I don’t want to add to it anymore.”

“Has it occurred to you that I like taking care of you?” He asked, voice softening as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “Go take a shower, I’ll get breakfast going,” he instructed you, tenderly tugging the knit blanket off of your body before helping you to your feet.

You grimaced at the feeling of your feet on the floor, “I don’t want to shower.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Spencer said over his shoulder as he made his way into your kitchen, reaching in the cabinets for your frying pan.

You unceremoniously returned from the shower; strands of damp hair draped over your shoulders. “Are you going to tell me how you got into my apartment in the first place?” Despite the length of your relationship, you’d never given him a key to your apartment. The leasing office had only given you one.

His back was to you, his expression literally unreadable, “Your landlord did.”

“And why did she do that?” You asked, pulling the glass of water that you assumed he poured for you across the granite countertops.

Spencer turned the frying pan on its side, scraping the scrambled eggs off of the Teflon surface and onto a plate. “I told her she was either going to do it for me or for the police when I call for a wellness check,” he informed you, placing the plate in front of you and pushing the saltshaker over to you. He must’ve noticed the face you were making at the eggs on your plate, because he spoke up once more, “You need the protein.”

You recognized that this wasn’t an overreaction to the situation. In fact, Spencer had maintained a completely calm demeanor when speaking with you, but you saw further past his façade. You saw the way the vein on his temple popped when he clenched his jaw, taking the saltshaker into your hand, you added some on top of the eggs before mixing them around, “I scared you.”

While Spencer lived in the district, your address was in Maryland, and you knew he wasn’t above calling Will at MPD to do a wellness check on you, “Yes.”

His answer was simple, and yet, your chest clenched at the brevity of it, “You’re mad at me.”

“Yes,” he answered again, resting his hands on the countertop and leaning over it. He watched as you stirred the eggs around on your plate, steam rising from them as you did. “Do you want to come with me to pick up your prescription?”

You hummed as you shoveled the first bite of eggs into your mouth. “Sure,” you said, watching him dig a carton of blueberries out of your fridge.

Dropping a handful on your plate, careful to make sure they don’t roll into the eggs, Spencer seals the container again, “Antioxidants and vitamins,” he murmured to no one in particular.

“How can you forgive me?” You asked Spencer, watching him endearingly pop a few blueberries into his mouth before placing the container back into your refrigerator.

He shook his head, “It’s not a matter of forgiveness. It wasn’t your fault.”

You couldn’t help but feel like you needed to shoulder the blame, “Then whose fault is it, Spence?”

“There is no fault. At least, there’s not one that falls on either of us. I can’t fault you for your brain. No matter how misguided you might have been, you thought you were acting in both of our best interests,” he admitted, rinsing the pan in the sink.

A beeping sound caught your attention, “Did you start a load of laundry?”

He nodded, scrubbing lightly at the dish in the sink, “Your hamper was full.”

“You’re doing too much,” you told him, pressing your lips in a thin line.

Setting the pan on a drying mat, he dried off his hands before walking over to you, hooking a finger beneath your chin before he murmured, “How is what I’m doing for you right now any different than when you took care of me after I got shot in the leg?”

Your jaw slackened. You had unofficially moved in with Spencer last year when he had been shot in the knee by an UnSub, helping him with everything from walking around the apartment to cooking.

Taking your lack of response as an answer, he nodded to himself, “I am always here for you.” He nodded his head in the direction of the door, “Come on, the sooner we get to the pharmacy the sooner we can start getting your apartment back in order."

He walked around you, pivoting on his heel as he held out a hand for you to take. Eventually, you accepted the hand he had extended, following him outside, into the light.

[collaredsoldat]

Silver and Garnet.

summary: Soldat hurts himself a lot.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Self harm | Mentions of non-consensual medical procedures | Body mutilation | Post!Body torture

a/n: I had another wip but I have no clue where I'm going with it so I started this one. Since someone commented the other day, I had to write another scenario specifically for this. I wrote something kinda touching this subject on my other blog but this one is exploring it better. Heed warnings, potentially triggering. Unedited. ;; wc: 4.3k

So many things to tackle with him.

You had done the hardest so far. That was good.

He was still wary around you. He avoided you.

He stayed locked in the bedroom you spared, hiding like a frightened animal. You hadn't seen him in a few days, the only evidence of his presence were the slightly eaten down bowls of broth and mashed potatoes you left for him. The untouched portions of these meals showed you just how fragile he still was, barely sustaining himself on the meager amounts he managed to consume.

His self-imposed isolation spoke volumes about the depth of his trauma, leaving you to wonder about the extent of his emotional wounds and the long road to recovery that lay ahead. You had never been a caregiver before, hell taking care of yourself proved to be hard sometimes. But now you had a responsibility for someone else, someone who really needs it.

Luckily, he had taken the opportunity to at least go to the bathroom without any sense of apprehension or unease. You often heard the shower running and he spent close to an hour in the shower at a time. You never went in to question him or why it took him so long to shower. Sometimes he'd let you wash him off, he did when he first arrived.

But for now, he liked having privacy, and you didn't blame him for wanting it.

You had been sitting on the couch and his shower had exceeded well over an hour, which was odd. Normally he only clocked close to an hour, just below sixty minutes. But he had been in the bathroom for much longer, and the shower had been running the entire time. You could spot steam peeking out from the cracks in the closed door, rising to the ceiling and fogging your apartment lightly.

Today, the shower had been running for an unusually long time, prompting you to check on him. Given his delicate health condition, you couldn't afford to be anything but vigilant. With a slight sense of concern, you gently pushed aside the warm, fuzzy blanket that had been draped over your legs. Rising from the comfortable embrace of the couch, you stretched your limbs briefly before padding across the room towards the bathroom door. The sound of running water grew louder as you approached, but there were no other noises coming from inside.

Reaching the door, you hesitated for a moment before raising your hand. You gently rapped your knuckles against the smooth surface of the door, being careful not to make too loud a sound. The last thing you wanted was to startle him in his potentially vulnerable state. "Soldat?" you called out softly, your voice barely audible over the steady stream of water, "Are you okay in there? It's perfectly fine if you're still showering, I just wanted to make sure you're doing alright. Is everything okay?"

Silence greeted you, save for the continuous patter of water against tile. The lack of response sent a small shiver of worry down your spine.

"Soldat?" you tried again, your voice a touch louder this time, tinged with growing concern. "Can I come in? Just to check on you?" You pressed your ear against the door, straining to hear any sound of movement or acknowledgment. Several long seconds ticked by, each one amplifying your unease. Still, there was no reply, not even the slightest indication that he had heard you. The silence stretched on, broken only by the relentless sound of running water, leaving you to grapple with mounting worry and indecision.

After a moment of hesitation, you decided to confront the situation head-on, pushing aside any thoughts of future repercussions. You reached out and gently grasped the cold metal of the door handle. Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you slowly turned the knob and eased the door open, the hinges creaking softly.

As the bathroom came into view, your eyes were immediately drawn to him, huddled in the corner of the shower. His form was hunched over, back pressed firmly against the tiled walls as if trying to disappear into them. The shower was running over him but instead of clear water, a steady stream of crimson flowed beneath him, swirling ominously before disappearing down the drain.

Your gaze was inevitably drawn to his right hand, it was covered in blood, fresh and glistening under the harsh bathroom lights. His nails were ragged and torn, thick chunks of flesh clung to them, the aftermath to the frenzied self-mutilation he had inflicted upon himself. The raw, exposed skin underneath looked so painful, the pieces of skin that he clearly had torn and tried to rip away from himself clear as day.

Your eyes slowly traced the contours of his body, lingering on the gleaming silver titanium that seamlessly merged with his flesh. The junction between metal and skin was marked by a vicious scar, a sight you had seen before during your previous bathing sessions. However, this time it appeared significantly more severe. The area was angry and inflamed, with fresh blood seeping from the edges, and the surrounding tissue looked far more mutilated than you recalled. The overall damage seemed to have intensified, leaving you with a sense of growing concern.

His eyes, wide and unblinking, were fixed straight ahead, as if seeing something beyond the confines of the room. The vacant stare sent a chill down your spine, he looked so empty and haunted there under the steady shower. His hand trembled visibly, betraying the depth of his distress very clearly, as if his wounds weren’t enough to go off of. Words couldn’t compare to this sight alone.

"Soldat..." You whispered, your voice barely audible as you gently closed the door behind you, careful not to startle him. The soft click of the latch seemed to echo in the tense silence of the room, the shower had been muffled by now, your brain zoning the sound out in hopes he would speak. "What's going on, hm?" You asked carefully, your tone was slightly apprehensive, your approach had to be very careful. You remained rooted to the spot, instinctively knowing that approaching him too quickly might escalate the situation. Instead, you stayed put, your body language open and non-threatening. "Did you do that?"

He remained motionless, unresponsive to his surroundings, as if frozen in place. Despite the scalding temperature of the water cascading over him, he shivered uncontrollably, as if he were trapped in a blizzard. The relentless stream of hot water had turned his skin an angry, vivid red, resembling a freshly boiled lobster wherever it made contact. You slowly stepped closer, speaking up again. "Did you do that to your arm?" You repeated.

Soldat finally stirred, his trembling hand slowly reaching up to his bleeding shoulder. His nails dug deeply into the scar tissue as his gaze fixed upon the metallic surface of his prosthetic limb. Unbeknownst to you, his mind was awash with vivid, haunting memories of endless saws mercilessly cutting into his flesh. The loss of his arm hadn't been a clean, swift amputation. No, it had been a gradual, excruciating process that began around his elbow.

In the sterile confines of the laboratory, they had methodically removed the rest, piece by agonizing piece. Throughout the entire ordeal, Soldat remained horrifyingly conscious, forced to endure every moment as they systematically dismembered him, carving away at his body with the cold precision of butchers preparing a carcass.

The gruesome experience marked the beginning of his torment at the hands of HYDRA. It was merely the opening act in a long, nightmarish performance that would span decades. As hellish as this initial ordeal was, it paled in comparison to the tortures that would follow. The amputation of his arm, as brutal and inhumane as it had been, would come to be seen as almost merciful when juxtaposed against the relentless cruelty he would endure in the years to come.

The memory of the cold metal was seared into his consciousness. He could still vividly recall the sensation of the frigid prosthetic fused to his body, an unnatural extension of himself that felt more like an invasive parasite than a replacement limb. The cold was so intense it transcended mere discomfort, burning his flesh with its icy touch. In his desperation to be free of this foreign appendage, he had made numerous attempts to tear it from his body, clawing at the juncture where flesh met metal until his fingers were raw and bleeding.

HYDRA's response to these acts of defiance was characteristically brutal.

They forcibly removed his fingernails, not out of concern for his well-being, but to protect their valuable asset. In their eyes, Soldat was no longer a person, no longer human. He had been reduced to a mere object, a weapon to be wielded at their discretion, stripped of his humanity and autonomy.

They did this frequently, until he stopped clawing at himself.

He had nails now, and they served as desperate tools in his frantic attempt to extricate the metal embedded within his flesh. His prosthetic limb was a source of intense loathing; he yearned to be rid of it, to cast it off entirely. The sensations it produced were a maddening contradiction; simultaneously frigid and scorching, each moment bringing fresh waves of agony. The pain was all-encompassing, radiating from every point where flesh met metal, leaving him bewildered by its relentless intensity. Where was this torment originating from? How could this damn appendage cause such overwhelming suffering-

"Soldat, you're hurting yourself," you intervened, your voice cutting through the fog of his anguish and halting his downward spiral into self-destruction. Slowly, as if emerging from a trance, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His fingers had burrowed beneath his skin like eager maggots, exposing the cold gleam of metal that had been forcibly inserted beneath layers of tissue and muscle. You reached out slowly, doing your best to avoid startling him. Carefully, you grasped his hand, applying just enough pressure to halt its destructive path, and gradually eased it away from his bloodied shoulder.

"There we go...oh, Soldat, look at you..." You whispered gently, watching the scalding water sear down on his wound, washing dark garnet into a watery pastel.

He whimpered softly in response, his body trembling with fear as he anticipated your reaction. You had caught him in the act, and he had been surreptitiously harming himself for some time now. His timid, apprehensive eyes slowly lifted to meet yours, filled with a mixture of dread and resignation. He fully expected you to unleash a torrent of angry words, to raise your hand against him, or to inflict some form of harsh punishment for the self-inflicted damage to his arm.

But to his surprise and confusion, you did none of those things. Unlike the cruel handlers from his past, you exhibited a gentle demeanor that was entirely foreign to him. Your actions spoke of kindness, a concept he struggled to comprehend.

"Ты не собираешься меня наказать?" He questioned hesitantly, his brow furrowed in a perplexed frown as he addressed you. His voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, weak and raspy from prolonged disuse. It sounded like he had swallowed broken glass, his throat utterly torn apart.

Prior to this moment, he had only uttered three single words on separate occasions: a tentative ‘thank you,’ a fearful ‘no,’ and a hesitant ‘yes.’ You found yourself grateful for your basic understanding of Russian, which allowed you to decipher his simple words, but full sentences would be trickier. He hadn't said a thing in English yet.

"Eh...I'm sorry, I don't understand, Soldat...but...I'm not mad." You reassured gently, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's get you out of here and cleaned up, okay?" You spoke softly, reaching out with a steady hand towards the shower knob. With a twist, you halted the flow of water, the sudden silence amplifying the sound of his ragged breathing. His body began trembling more noticeably now, the loss of the near-boiling water leaving him exposed to the cooler air. You couldn't help but wince internally at the sight of his scalded skin, angry red compared to the rest of him. However, you forced yourself to push that concern aside for the moment. His bloody scars, still weeping and raw, demanded your immediate attention.

You allowed him to remain seated in the shower for a brief moment, giving him time to adjust. You moved towards the bathroom counter, your eyes scanning the contents of the cabinet as you opened it. Methodically, you began pulling out the necessary first aid supplies, arranging them neatly on the countertop. Your gaze flickered back to him, noting how his trembling had intensified. You carefully approached him once more with a large, soft towel draped over your arms.

“Here, I know you’re cold now.” You draped the towel over his shivering form, taking care to keep his injured shoulder exposed so you could tend to it properly. He flinched as the fabric settled around him, instinctively responding to the unusual action. You maintained your calm demeanor, choosing not to react to the flinching. “I’m going to clean this up a bit, okay? All you have to do is sit still. That’s pretty easy, right?” You tried your best to sound comforting, knowing his nerves were through the roof and he was especially fragile.

His shoulder was a gruesome sight, coated in a deep crimson layer of blood with ragged pieces of flesh hanging precariously from where he had been violently digging. You couldn't help but let out a soft, empathetic sigh as you reached for a substantial handful of sterile gauze. Kneeling beside him with careful movements, you noticed how he deliberately avoided your gaze, his eyes fixed intently on the intricate patterns of the tile floor beneath you both.

With precision, you reached up and began to gently dab at the blood-soaked area, allowing the pristine white gauze to gradually absorb the viscous red liquid, allowing the injury to become more visible to you to assess the proper kind of treatment.

The self-inflicted damage from his frantic clawing was even worse than you had initially feared. Deep, angry tears marred his shoulder, the surrounding scar tissue visibly swollen and undoubtedly hypersensitive to the touch. Despite the pain he must have been experiencing, Soldat remained remarkably still for you, permitting you to continue your ministrations as you meticulously dabbed away the excess blood.

Your heart ached at the sight, and you found yourself whispering softly, your voice barely audible in the quiet room, "Oh, Soldat…look at what you've done to yourself." Your tone was filled with compassion rather than judgment as you continued, "You must be in so much pain to have resorted to this. I wish I could take it all away."

He didn't reply, which was expected given his current state. He simply allowed you to continue dabbing at his wounds until the majority of the bleeding had subsided. The condition of his skin was a bit alarming, and you found yourself hesitating, unsure of how to properly treat such severe injuries. Your medical knowledge was limited, lacking the expertise required for advanced treatments such as suturing.

But, upon closer inspection, you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized the wounds, while serious, weren't as bad as you had initially feared. Not bad enough for stitches at least. A few carefully applied butterfly bandages and snug gauze wrapping would be sufficient to promote healing. Besides, you hoped his enhanced healing might help aid on this too.

"I'm going to start wrapping you up now, okay? I'll also need to apply some bandages over certain areas to help keep the skin together. You're being so brave and cooperative," you said, your words of encouragement causing his eyes to lift slightly, meeting yours. The subtle shift in his demeanor made your heart rate quicken, a warmth spreading through your chest as you sensed him beginning to trust you. "I need you to remain as still as possible while I do this. Can you manage that for me?"

After a moment of consideration, he responded with a soft, barely audible, "...да." The Russian affirmation, though brief, conveyed his understanding and compliance.

You offered him a warm, reassuring smile as you began the delicate process of tending to his wounds. You carefully cleaned each injury using soft cotton balls soaked in a mild antiseptic solution. You winced slightly as you dabbed the open wounds but he hadn’t flinched at all, despite knowing the antiseptic stung. Once the cleaning was complete, you applied bandages to the areas where his skin had been broken, taking extra care to position them for optimal healing. For the scar itself, you had a handful of things. First laying down a layer of soft, cushioning gauze to help with any bleeding that might occur, you then wrapped it with an adherent bandage to keep everything in place.

Throughout the entire process, he observed you intently, his gaze alternating between your focused expression and the various medical supplies you used. His eyes searched quickly for anything sharp, but he didn’t see anything like that. This experience was entirely new to him; never before had he been allowed to witness the ministrations performed on him.

The HYDRA scientists had preferred to keep him in the dark, relishing his startled reactions to unexpected pain or discomfort. It was so different to your approach. They liked watching him struggle against the bindings he was kept in, then used it as an excuse to hurt him more, as if his very valid reaction to being cut open with a scalpel or stabbed with a needle was unwarranted. But nothing you did hurt. You were so careful, like you were afraid to hurt him.

"There...all done." You hummed gently, a soft smile playing on your lips as you looked up to him once the bandages were securely fastened in place. Your eyes scanned over your handiwork, ensuring everything was just right. "Now, I want you to take it easy, okay? Don't push yourself too hard. But if it happens to come undone or feels uncomfortable, just let me know. I can always redo it for you." You reassured him, your voice warm and caring. Taking a small step back, you gave him some space, understanding that he might need a moment to adjust to the new sensation of the bandages.

Soldat, still silent, gripped the towel tighter and wrapped the damp fabric around himself, creating a cocoon of sorts. The quiet that enveloped the room was almost tangible, broken only by the soft dripping of water. You watched him carefully, noting how he seemed to be taking inventory of his newly bandaged body. In your mind, you surmised that he probably needed a few seconds to get accustomed to the feeling of the bandages against his skin, perhaps even testing their flexibility as he moved.

After what felt like an eternity but was likely only a minute or two, Soldat made a move to stand. His legs were a bit unsteady, trembling slightly under his weight as he rose. He took cautious steps out of the shower, leaving behind a trail of water droplets. He came to a stop directly in front of you, close enough that you could feel the residual warmth from his shower-heated skin. His still-wet hair continued to release tiny rivulets of water, the droplets trailing down his face and neck before disappearing into the towel.

Your eyes were drawn to his, those steel blue irises that always seemed to hold so much depth. As you gazed into them, trying to decipher his thoughts, you realized that while they were as inscrutable as ever, there was something there. A look, a silent request perhaps. He seemed to be seeking something more from you, though you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"Alright, let's get you properly dried off," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. Your hands moved of their own accord, grasping the edges of the towel he held. "And then... well, I think we should get you settled comfortably in the living room. How does that sound?" As you spoke, you began to gently pat him dry, your movements careful and considerate, especially around the newly bandaged areas. The act felt intimate, you had done it before, but it felt different this time.

He was carefully dried off and dressed in clean, comfortable clothes before being gently guided to the living room. You led him to the spot where you had been sitting earlier, allowing him to sink into the warm impression left by your body. As you draped your thick, cozy blanket over his legs, he instinctively pulled it up higher, cocooning himself in its comforting weight. His tense muscles began to relax as he nestled deeper into the soft folds, finding a small measure of solace in the simple act of being warm and protected.

You settled yourself beside him, your eyes drawn to the bandages adorning his shoulder. You broached the subject that had been weighing on your mind, wondering about his habits, "Do you do that a lot, Soldat?" The question hung in the air, your tone carefully modulated to convey genuine concern rather than accusation or judgment.

For what felt like an eternity, he remained silent, his eyes fixed on some distant point. Just as you began to think he wouldn't respond at all, he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Да." The single word, spoken so softly you almost missed it, carried the weight of countless untold stories.

"Why?" you pressed gently, hoping to coax him into opening up, to share even a fragment of the burden he carried. You yearned to understand, to offer whatever comfort or support you could. Your underground research on HYDRA had come up short, you hadn’t discovered much yet, and many of the released files the Black Widow had released were heavily encrypted. But as quickly as that tiny crack in his armor had appeared, it vanished. His lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line, and the brief, guarded glance he cast in your direction spoke louder than words.

Without uttering another word, he had made it abundantly clear that this line of inquiry would go no further. The wall between you, momentarily weakened, had been fortified once more.

"I understand... you don't want to talk about it right now. That's perfectly okay," you reassured gently, your voice filled with compassion. "I want you to know that if you ever feel the urge to hurt yourself again, you can come to me. I'm here for you, and I'll do everything in my power to help you through it." You offered this support sincerely, hoping that your words would resonate with him and provide some comfort. Your intention was to show him that there were alternative ways to cope with his pain, rather than resorting to self-harm. You wanted to be a source of safety and understanding he could turn to.

He remained silent, but you could see that your words were having an impact. His eyes, previously averted, briefly met yours, conveying a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. Then, he slowly shifted his position on the couch. He leaned closer to you, gradually lowering his head until it rested lightly on your leg. He was using your thigh as a makeshift pillow, a huge sign of the trust he was placing in you. It was an incredibly significant step forward in your relationship, a wordless acknowledgment of the connection between you.

You knew this was a big gesture, how much security he must feel for him to allow himself this closeness. Considering he never allowed himself to lay down around you, this was a big step in the right direction. As he settled, he pulled the blanket higher, adjusting it to cover himself more fully. He was positioned to lay on his uninjured flesh shoulder, seeking relief for the wounded one and to be covered by the blanket for some extra security, you knew he didn’t like feeling exposed.

Your hand, trembling slightly with the weight of the moment, slowly descended towards his damp hair. You were acutely aware of your own nervousness, not wanting to make any misstep that might shatter this fragile trust. This unexpected display of vulnerability had caught you by surprise, and you wanted to handle it carefully. Your fingers gently made contact with his hair, gently running through his chestnut locks in a soothing gesture. Your touch was light and tentative, massaging and lightly scratching at his scalp as he laid there.

Soldat permitted this rare moment of complete vulnerability. He was feeling particularly exposed and fragile, yet he felt secure enough in your presence to lay beside you. To lay on you. The comfort he found in your company was evident as you both settled in to watch television together.

The episode progressed, you noticed a gradual change in Soldat's subtle movements on your thigh. His breathing began to slow and deepen, becoming more rhythmic with each passing minute. Before long, the weight of his body pressed more heavily against you as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber. You looked down to make sure you weren’t just imagining things.

Soldat felt safe enough in your presence to completely let his guard down and fall asleep.

It was a clear indication to the trust he placed in you, a rare and precious gift from someone who typically kept the world at arm's length upon severe conditioning. The simple act of Soldat falling asleep beside you spoke volumes about the growing bond you had, your chest warming and swelling with warmth as you observed his sleeping form.

You couldn't help the smile that spread on your face.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

I had a few people inquire about being tagged for my fics, if anyone is still be interested in being on a tag list, please let me know.

[mrpenguinpants]

See you, space cowboy

— Parting words at the end of the day.

— Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Imbibitor Lunae, Dr. Ratio + Luocha

[Masterlist]

The title is from Cowboy Bebop. I used their "Parting" voice lines if anyone was curious. Ignore how I'm using a Kafka gif for a fic with only men. I promise this is still a "genshin" blog.

Jing Yuan

"Mmm, rest well... My apologies. There is still some work to be done and I can't see you out personally."

You blink at him before you narrow your eyes and give him a judging stare. Your fingers reach out to curl around the sleeve of his uniform, giving it a small tug that he willingly steps into despite his earlier words. He doesn't try to hide the amusement in his eyes, even letting out a soft chuckle that makes your lips downturn into a frown. Jing Yuan reaches up, smoothing the crease between your eyebrows before resting on your cheek.

"It's obvious that you're tired. You should rest for a little bit more before you go back to work," you lightly scold as you give another weak tug for him to return to your shared home. Another chuckle escapes him as he places his other hand on your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles through the fabric for a few seconds to attempt to appease you. "It's been a while since we've shared a meal together..."

Jing Yuan's eyes soften yet he politely removes your hand attached to his sleeve. This time he avoids your gaze, the disappointment flowing heavy in the air, when he shakes his head and steps back.

"Next time, I promise," he whispers, squeezing your hand to hopefully convey his sincerity. "I'll take a day off as well. I heard that our Trailblazer friend has restored Aurum Alley back to its former glory. I'm sure Yanqing would love to join us as well."

You seem to mull over it in your head. To trade one night for a full day is tempting, plus Yanqing has been running himself ragged given the recent events. It would be nice to have a break where it can just be the three of you without any military or political weight hovering above you.

"...fine. But if you break your promise, I'll sic Mimi on you," you pout at him, twisting your hand from his grip to poke him in the chest.

"I...shall plan accordingly then," he laughs awkwardly because he knows you will follow through with that threat. He still has the scratch marks on the walls as proof. Playful or not, Mimi is unfortunately an overly heavy lion.

Blade

"Go. When the mara strikes, you don't want to be next to me."

"Is that what you say to everyone who tries to help you?" you huff as you carefully bandage his wounds, the white bandages seeping red slowly as you wind them around his torso. Despite the sarcasm dripping from your tone, he can tell you're genuinely angry with him this time. If it were anyone else, he would shake them off to leave, but when you look like you're two breaths away from bursting into tears, so he can only take a deep breath and let you bandage him up.

"They'll heal. They always do," he says after a moment of silence. Alas, his attempt at comfort does nothing but make you more stressed. He winces slightly when you pull too tightly on the bandage, the gauze scrapping against his gash that's already stitching itself together again.

"I know, so shut up already," you spit in an attempt to save face, and he decides to offer a bit of kindness by not commenting on it, "I'm not doing this for you."

He knows. You used to be an ordinary medic before the Stelleron Hunters recruited you, and you incidentally had to switch careers to something more violent. But old habits die hard, and this small bit of control helps to ease your worries. Even if it's only by a small margin. Your weakened hold lets the bandages fall into a heap on your lap as your shoulder shag. You press your forehead against his shoulder just slightly above where his wound is already rapidly healing into another scar.

"Can't you be more careful?" you sigh into his shoulder, a smear of red on your cheek that you both ignore. Blood will wash out.

"I'm sorry," he replies. He won't lie to you and say that he'll try. For as much as the mara controls him and his emotions, he wills them away for a few seconds.

Dan Heng

"Time to turn in already…? Thanks for the reminder. It's easy to lose track of time in the archives — before you know it, a whole day's gone by… See you tomorrow."

You have to stifle your laugh lest you make Dan Heng more embarrassed that he kicks you out of the room to save some dignity. Even though he says all that, he hasn't once lessened his hold on you for you to actually get up and leave. If anything, his arms around your waist tighten so you're practically molded into his chest. To be fair, you had lost track of time as well. After the recent adventures and running everywhere, it felt nice to settle into Dan Heng's lap and waste a day away in the archives, just basking in each other's presence. No crazy hunter trying to stab Dan Heng or overactive mara-struck enemies attempting to decapitate you. Just the hum of the machines and the warmth of company that neither of you are ready to leave so soon.

"You know...technically it's already "tomorrow" since it's 2am. We could just stay here," you muse as you tilt your head up to look at his unimpressed expression. The longer the two of you stay up, the worse the rest of the day will be from the lack of sleep. Plus it's not healthy to stay up to reset a sleep schedule.

"You know we can't do that. Besides, you might be comfortable but this shelf has been digging into my back for the past few hours," he sighs, shifting his body to prove a point further.

"10 more minutes," you bargain.

"2," he denies flatly.

"5?" you try again.

"2." He stares you at with a frown.

"3!" You stare right back with a cheeky grin.

"...fine."

He hides the fond smile into your hair as you cheer on gaining a single minute.

Dan Heng • Imbibitor Lunae

"It's getting late, I won't be staying up much longer. Sleep well."

You have to stifle your amusement less you make Dan Heng recede even further into his shell, but you can't help but think it's kind of cute how awkward this dragon can be sometimes. The way he stands so stiffly and not at all relaxed for sleep, how his eyes are staring at anything but you who is standing right in front of him, coupled with the uneasy way he says for you to "sleep well.". As if he's questioning if it's okay for him to say something so casually despite all the time you've spent in each other's company. Dragon horns or not.

"Much longer...huh. And pray tell, how many minutes does that equate to again? It's kinda hard to tell when I'm talking to an infinite respawn glitch," you tease, lightly punching him in the shoulder makes Dan Heng crack a tiny smile. You mentally pat yourself on the back for that little win. Ever since the Astral Express concluded its journey on the Xianzhou, the new dragon had been walking on eggshells around everyone.

"You're talking too much to that hacker girl. That's not how the vidyadhara reincarnation works either," he sighs but the tension is gone from his shoulders. If you're able to joke about it then you're not mad at him lying about his origins, even though you haven't been in the first place. "But I will return to the Archives with the system hour."

You spare a glance at the clock. It'll be midnight in another 20 minutes. Has it really gotten that late so quickly?

"Alright, but if I check the data bank and there are new entries, I'm kicking your door open mister," you place your hands on your hips as you gesture two V-sign fingers at your own eyes, then at him. "Good night Dan Heng. See you in the morning.".

Dr. Ratio

"Another day has passed. If your problem still hasn't been solved, is it possible that the problem is you?"

He tilts his head to the side gracefully as you hurl your pen at him. The cheap plastic breaks on impact and leaves a smear of ink that you'll have to clean up unless you want another stain for Dr. Ratio to insult you for. Perhaps you can use his name as a tax write-off? It's the least he could do for you with how much attitude you put up with.

"What if my problem is you? If you didn't dodge then I wouldn't have to waste so many precious pens," you counter as you reach for the white cloth hanging from his waist to use to mop up the ink. One that has Ratio slapping your hand away with his stone booklet. He even dares to wipe at it with a handkerchief, as if touching your skin is equivalent to touching trash, rather than offering it to you!

"Ow! Geez, you really don't hold back. I wasn't going to actually use your clothing!" you fake sob as you nurse your poor hand close to your chest. It doesn't hurt as badly as you're making it out to be. You've seen Veritas throw chalk at his enemies and leave chalk-sized holes in them. "Besides, it's not like I can do anything about my "problems". [ Rahu ] isn't the easiest place to investigate..."

Your body slumps in as you think back on how little progress you've made with that strange planet. Diamond has been kind enough to not assign a deadline but you can feel the quiet disappointment every time you report that you don't have anything new to share each month. Maybe Veritas is right. Maybe the problem is you.

"Which is why you've been given the role. The numbers written on a stats page or monthly reports do not measure the trial and error of someone's pursuit of knowledge. Very few scholars I know would be capable of continuing for the sole purpose of finding the truth. Surely you're capable of seeing that? Unless I've severely underestimated your intelligence," Veritas states as if it were a fact. He reaches to take your hand, giving it a once over to see if he has truly hurt you. His words bring a small smile as your heart swells at his encouragement as you squeeze his hand back.

Luocha

"Have an early rest. I'll keep watch here."

It's the last thing you hear before your eyelids droop close and sleep takes you under. Your body slumps against Luocha's side, his hands already out and ready to catch you, before he gently maneuvers you so your head rests in his lap. He hums humourlessly as he combs through the strands of your hair, a bit of dirt clinging onto the ends. He'll have to tend to that later.

"I wonder what someone like you dreams of," he contemplates although he doesn't expect an answer. Your face is the picture of serenity as your chest rises up and down slowly with each breath, completely dead to the world. You're far too trusting of him, even his first meeting on friendly terms with Dan Heng hadn't made that man lower his guard. Sure, they had been on the same team but Dan Heng would constantly look behind him as if he was waiting to get stabbed in the back by Luocha's sword. Yet here you are, fast asleep in his lap and entirely defenseless.

A loud buzzing sounds from your pocket that Luocha reaches for to check, you're not going to be awake to answer it anyway.

"What considerate companions you have," he muses as Dan Heng's caller ID flashes on your phone before his call gets sent to voicemail. It's truly a blessing that all phones operate under the same system programming as he holds down the power button, effectively shutting the phone and other potential distractions silent. Under the artificial night light, when it's just the two of you here, no one can see the secret smile on his lips. Nor the possessive hold he has on you.

[revelboo]

love ur writing (੭ु ›ω‹ )੭ु⁾⁾♡ thank u for sharing your work with us!

Thank you for reading it!

Transformers x Reader Headcanons- possessive

Soundwave x Reader, Starscream x Reader, Jazz x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Ratchet x Reader

Starscream

• It’s nothing really. Just the way your face lights up when Soundwave brings you a case of bottled water, as if what he’s provided is inferior. His wings flick stiffly up as you thank the other mech, daring to reach out to touch Soundwave’s servo. It’s nothing. Shouldn’t bother him, but there it is, eating at him. How many of your little smiles have you gifted the other mech?

• You realize almost immediately that you just messed up. Can almost imagine you can feel the temperature dipping as you look over your shoulder. And of course he saw. He’s always watching you and now his expression is oddly empty aside from the slight quivering of his wings. There’ll be yelling later, his temper sparking out of control if you don’t distract him quickly. Down play Soundwave’s gift. Or ask him for something. Need him.

TFP Ratchet

• Fowler isn’t exactly a stranger, even if Ratchet doesn’t particularly care for the human. That disinterest quickly shifts when he sees the man lay a hand on your shoulder and you offer up a tired smile. It’s good. You should interact with other humans instead of being cooped up with him all the time. But it bothers him. That hand on you. The creak of metal makes both humans look over to stare at him and the tool he’s just accidentally bent at an angle in his hands.

• You pick up on the fact that your grouchy medic is irritated about something pretty quickly. Being flippant and avoiding you, and that only makes you angry too. If something’s wrong, you’d rather talk about it. And he’s not giving you a chance. You wear him down, pestering until he just lets go of whatever that was. It’s almost like he’s a tiny bit jealous of Fowler talking to you, but surely not.

Jazz

• There’s a strange car in the driveway. A strange human on your step. Pretending to be nothing more than a car, he shifts on his shocks when you open the door and smile for this person. Invite them in. The spy in him runs scenarios. You might be in danger. Might need him.

• It’s a relief when the intruder leaves and you finally join him outside, A coworker you tell him as he transforms and scoops you up, ignoring your protest. There was no danger. He knows it, but he needs to reassure himself. Feel the frantic beat of your heart as you shove at him, annoyed. He’ll check into this coworker. Learn everything there is about them and he’ll decide if they’re allowed to visit again.

Wheeljack

• As oblivious as he can be, he’s very aware of his tiny lab partner. You’re always there, asking him questions and encouraging him to talk about his projects. He’s gotten used to that easy companionship. Looks forward to it, because he’s well aware the others avoid him. Think he’s an accident prone danger to life and limb. You don’t treat him like a walking catastrophe, though. You like being around him.

• So when you’re not around, he goes looking for you. Seeing you talking to Bumblebee and Bluestreak, he knows you’re in good hands, but still. He’s walking up before he can think better of it, vocal indicators flickering a sickly mauve as he just picks you up in one hand, lifting the other in greeting. Aware of the two younger bots staring and the bemused look you’re giving him. He’s not jealous, but you did promise to help him. That’s all.

TFP Megatron

• You’re kept close, his little plaything on a leash. His pet. Partly because it amuses him to toy with you, but also because he can’t trust anyone. There are too many among his Decepticons who’d love to accidentally break Megatron’s pet. Some because they see you as a weakness- that the warlord is far too attached. Others just for cruel amusement.

• There’s no peace for you. He’s always near. Watching. Your life depends on keeping him amused with your antics. Even knowing that, you’ve grown oddly attached to him, recognizing the loneliness under the casual cruelty. He’s safe in his own, awful way. Because no matter what, you can count on that possessiveness to keep you alive. He takes care of what’s his.

Soundwave

• While he can’t exactly read your thoughts, he can get brief little flickers. Images and emotions that can overwhelm him. Or worm into him and leave behind a hunger for more. Being in control has always been something he prided himself on. The calm one. The reliable, loyal soldier. But you’re a problem. When he first found out Starscream’s secret, he should have passed the intel along.

• But every time the thought enters his processor, with it comes the worry of the fall out. It’s not only Starscream that will suffer. Most likely you’ll die just to punish the Seeker. And he doesn’t want that. Not when you always look at him with such trusting eyes. It’d be as if he hurt you himself. So this secret he keeps. For you and for him.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post

Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.

AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"

Apologies if this is a bit too short but;

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.

This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.

Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3

He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life

So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.

Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.

The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.

The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.

Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.

You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.

He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.

He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.

Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.

Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.

Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.

You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...

[er-osion]

Stumble In(to my life)

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary: You tend to Red Hood after he’s mildly injured on patrol, he then sticks around a little.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: none, fluff

author’s note: you can find part 2 here

∾∾∘⋅∗⋄⋆⋄∗⋅∘∾∾

You looked up from your books to the soft thump outside your window. A normal person wouldn’t have heard the noise at all, but your ears had become accustomed to listening for it. It was late, far later than you should be up, but tonight was a night filled with studying and anxiety, so sleep evaded you. You put a bookmark in your textbook and closed it, being careful of your notes, and got up from your couch. You just reached the window as a large armored figure clamored through. Backing up, you gave the beast of a man space to gracefully tumble through your window and into your apartment. The sound of sirens off in the distance became muffled once again when the man closed the window tightly behind him.

Red Hood never said much. A man of few words you supposed, at least when he was injured —which was the only time you saw him. You couldn’t recall when this little arrangement between the two of you began, maybe around a year ago. The Red Hood crashed and stumbled into your life one fateful night, and had been doing so ever since. But only when he needed a patch job, and he never took off his helmet. Even when you could tell he had a head injury that needed tending, he wouldn’t remove the red helmet. You knew he trusted you, clearly a lot more than he trusted others, but a part of you was still a little hurt. You'd known him for so long and still yet to see his real face or hear his real voice unmodulated. Oddly enough, you’d call Hood a friend. Even if you didn’t know his real name along with many other things about him, and even if he knew very little about you other than the basics, you’d consider him a good friend. And deep down you’re sure he thinks the same.

Hood slumps down on the couch, but you notice he’s careful to avoid being anywhere near your textbooks and notes. You silently appreciate the move, since last time he got blood on your papers and you had to come up with a believable story for your professor explaining why there were blood splatters on your homework.

“Rough night?” You ask jokingly as you get out the first aid kit. Hood gives a ‘Hmpf’ in response and rests his head against the back of the couch. You move your school stuff off the coffee table and set out the supplies from the first aid kit. You let your eyes roam his figure to try and find the injuries you’d be taking care of tonight. You slyly take in Hood’s toned muscles as you look for wounds, taking the action as a less obvious chance to check him out. However secretive he may be, you can’t deny the man looks good. Actually, “looks good” is an understatement, his abs could cut diamonds.

“How many bruises are you gonna have in the morning?” You ask as you help him take off his leather jacket which is crusted with dried blood here and there.

“Too many.” He’s short with his words but by now you can hear the underlying exhaustion in them. His voice sounds robotic from the mask, but it still brings you a wave of comfort to hear.

“Anything I can’t see?” This phrase has become your way of asking where his most concerning injuries are, and whether or not he’s comfortable with you dealing with them.

“No, tonight’s just the obvious stuff.”

“Not any less painful I presume.”

“And as usual, you’re right, angel.” Your lips quirk up in the ghost of a smile at the nickname. You’ve started cleaning the gashes on his arms and wrapping them with gauze and bandages. Hood relaxes a bit more into the couch, tensing only when you start cleaning wounds with the cold water and saline solution.

As you’re working your mind drifts into thinking about the nature of your relationship with this vigilante. Part of you is proud, honored even, that the elusive Red Hood trusts you enough to seek you out for medical care. But another part of you, the part you don’t really want to acknowledge, is angry he only ever visits when he needs fixing. He doesn’t tell you anything about himself, not even ice-breaker facts, and he doesn’t really ask about you. He doesn’t drop by anytime he’s not injured and he never tells you when he’s coming, he just shows up at your window injured without warning. Your heart stings when you think that you might be dead last on Red Hood’s priority list, especially considering he’s first on yours. Does he really only think of you as a patch job? Someone who will treat him without asking any questions? Does he even have any interest in your life at all? Does he ever think about you when he’s not around, like you think of him? By now, you’ve lost yourself in the spiral of your thoughts and are blankly working out of muscle memory. You don’t even notice, but Red Hood does.

Jason watches you work through the eyes of his helmet. He can see the distance in your eyes and can tell you’re thinking hard about something else. But even as your mind wanders, your hands do not. You work efficiently and effectively on cleaning and wrapping his wounds. You take care to check for broken bones and remove any debris you find in his skin. He appreciates you. He’s certain he appreciates you more than you’ll ever know. He didn’t realize how lucky he was when he stumbled through your window all those nights ago. He didn’t realize that night that he’d gain a safe haven. He’s never felt more secure than when he’s with you in your apartment. Jason’s never felt more comfortable than when in your presence. He thinks it’s a little odd. You don’t know what his face looks like, hell, you don’t even know his real name, but his trust in you is an ever flowing river. Jason trusts you more than he trusts himself sometimes. Jason blinks out of a trance he didn’t realize he was in and focuses back on you. The lamps in your apartment provide the only measly light for you to work with, but right now they aren’t crummy. No, the lamps have painted your figure in a warm glow that has Jason’s heart stuttering in an unusual way. The homey furniture melts into the dim background and you're the only thing in focus in Jason’s vision. It’s moments like these when Jason is hit with a flurry of emotions he doesn’t understand. You finish wrapping his last bandage and look up at him with the most gentle but curious eyes he’s ever seen and Red Hood suddenly feels like he’s about to choke. His chest swirls with feelings and he can’t even begin to grasp what they are or what they mean. He wants to say “thank you, thank you for always looking after me even when I don’t deserve it,” but the words get caught in his throat. There’s a tranquil silence that follows where you just look at each other, of course, you can’t tell exactly what Red Hood is looking at but you can feel his gaze on you. When a minute passes you get up slowly and start to put the first aid kit away. Jason watches you from behind the safety of his helmet and moves to help you package everything back up.

Hood’s gloved hand picks up a roll of gauze and brings it over to the kit, but you quickly —albeit gently— put your hand over his to stop him and take the gauze yourself. “You don’t have to do that. You’re injured, rest.” You say with quiet authority and go back to cleaning up the table. Hood doesn’t say anything but leans back into the couch and doesn’t continue to help, though deep down he wants to. He feels he owes you, he knows he owes you. He wants to do something, anything to pay back the kindness you’ve shown him but he can never think of the right thing to do.

“You’re welcome to sit here for a bit, regain some energy before you head to wherever it is you hide during the day. I’ve just got some notes to finish for class.” You provide as you sit down in the chair next to your sofa, repositioning all your textbooks and papers. Hood just nods in reply. “Oh, and you can turn on the tv if you’d like, I don’t mind.” There’s a pause before you see the vigilante move to grab the remote and turn on your tv. You smile a bit at your papers, finding a small happiness in the fact he’s able to settle into your home so well. You secretly wish he’d come and watch tv with you just for fun, not because he needs to recover from a stab wound.

Every once in a while, Jason’s eyes drift from the tv screen to where you’re seated taking notes for your class. Jason does his best to memorize this moment and neatly pack it away in a safe little box in his brain. He wants to remember this quiet moment of togetherness forever. He wants to say something, he wants your beautiful eyes back on him but he also doesn’t want to disrupt the pleasant quiet that swirls around your living room.

Red Hood clears his throat and shimmies into a straighter posture. “Thanks by the way.” You look up at the vigilante and tilt your head in confusion at his remark.

“For what?” You let out a small chuckle, the confusion is evident in your voice. Jason’s lips quirk up in a small smile under his helmet at your confusion at his thanks.

“For all this to start,” Hood motions to himself “and also just for letting me in here. For letting me into your home without fair warning. Your patience with my bullshit seems to know no bounds, you deserve an award merely for that. So… thanks.” Thank you for letting me into your life and making me feel cared for, Jason wants to add on, but that seems a little too open about his feelings for the moment. He hopes you’re able to pick up on the subtext of his words, he hopes you can put together the puzzle pieces of his words that form the colorful picture of his appreciation for you.

You smile lightly, “Of course, Hood. Believe it or not, I actually enjoy having your giant smartass around.” You took a deep breath and let loose a shot in the dark. “I just wish you’d stumble in here when you weren’t injured sometimes, just to hang around.” You awkwardly divert your eyes to the floor and take a major interest in the small stains in the wood. Hood is quiet and unmoving and you can’t tell if that’s good or bad, you can’t tell if you crossed an unspoken line. Jason’s mind is reeling, trying to catch up with the implications of your words. Do you mean you want him around more? Do you mean you want a deeper friendship with him? Do you mean you truly enjoy his presence so much you want more of it in your life? You risk a look back up at Red Hood and when Jason sees the genuine look in your eyes he hopes the modulator in his helmet doesn’t give away the deep breath he had to intake to try and calm his heart.

“Well, maybe I’ll have to drop by more often then, angel.” Hood tries to play off the deepness of the moment with suave teasing, he has to retain at least a little dignity in front of you.

You smirk at his clearly playful comeback, “Just make sure you show up with takeout or some groceries. I can’t be providing everything for you all of the time.” Hood huffs out a laugh.

“I think I can manage that.”

“Good.” You smile warmly at him and Jason mirrors you beneath his helmet. There’s a soft silence that follows where the two of you just look at each other. Then you go back to finishing your notes with the smile still plastered on your face. Jason is already planning out his schedule so he can drop in just for fun as soon as possible without seeming desperate to hang out.

“My cuts are pretty sore by the way and I’m quite fatigued so I might have to stay for a bit longer.”

“Hm, well if that’s what you need to do then I can’t deny you. I’m not going to kick Gotham's hero out of my apartment while he’s down.” You know he’s not really that sore or fatigued. You can tell by his body language or his tone of voice when he is. You know he’s just saying that to ask if it’s okay if he stays a bit longer than usual. Of course, you’d never say no. You’d offer him to stay the night but you don’t want him to get uncomfortable, though deep down, you’re desperate for his prolonged presence.

“Tch, that’s a relief. However, I’m afraid I might also need some moral support, as you can see, your poor hero of Gotham has had a rough night.”

You smirk and raise an eyebrow but don’t deny him. You get up from your seat and move to sit next to him on the couch. Your finished notes are left forgotten on your previous chair and you dial into the show Hood was watching on the tv. “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing my hero of Gotham and I have a similar taste in tv —it makes giving moral support easier.” You feel Hood’s quiet chuckle through the vibrations of the couch, a feeling you want again and again. Jason tries not to think too hard on your use of the word ‘my’ or how it’s echoing in his head like a tantalizing mantra.

“A good thing indeed.”

“I didn’t realize vigilantes had time to pick favorite tv shows.”

“How else do you think we pass the time waiting for a store to be robbed during patrol?”

“I figured you just brooded the entire time, seeing as you costumed weirdos can never get over anything in your entire lives.”

“How rude, us weirdos do get over things, like buildings or cars when chasing down our enemies.”

“Hardy har har, I bet you think you’re clever for that one.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think, I know I’m clever for that one.”

“So arrogant.”

“Not arrogant, confident.”

“If that’s what you want to call it, sure.” The lighthearted banter between the two of you fills the room with the warmth of familiarity. Neither of you seemed to notice how close you’d gotten to each other on instinct. Your shoulders are just brushing his and you can feel his body heat seeping into your skin. You’re fighting the urge to press closer and unbeknownst to you, Jason is doing the same. Your body and heart is begging you to rest your head against Hood’s leather-clad shoulder but you push the thoughts down in fear of making things awkward or scaring him off. Jason’s mind is running rampant with internal pleas for you to rest against him, he wants nothing more right now than to feel the comfortable weight of you against his side. But Jason doesn’t act or speak any of these thoughts into reality, worried he’ll cross a line or make you uncomfortable. So the two of you sit there on your couch for who knows how long. Mingling on the side of cuddling but not quite reaching the threshold. Both of you sit contented with the closeness and security of spending what had been a rough evening together, but silently desperate for more. But more is for a different evening, another night when Red Hood stumbles through your window.

[igotanidea]

The little bean: Anthony Bridgerton x pregnant!wife!reader

A/N: So..... After my "Too much" series I've been asked to do something with Antony and pregnancy trope. And since 1) I got baby fever and 2) Bridgertons are back, there is no better time than now.

***

“Y/N, my love, what are you doing?”

“I’m holding a book…?”

Ever since Y/N found out she was pregnant with the heir (which she would rather address as her precious little baby, instead of giving him titles before he or she was even born) Anthony entered right into an overprotective mood. If anything he would just keep her home, away from any prying eyes, that – in his opinion – might somehow take a look inside, at his baby and perhaps, see the little one before it came into the view of a proud viscount father.

Y/N could barely walk around the Bridgerton household, let alone the garden, without her husband chasing after her with a very concerned look, ready to carry her wherever she wished, just so that her feet wouldn’t touch the ground.

There were so many dangers on the way after all.

Wild animals. (i.e. bees, dogs and strays cats)

Speeding carriages.

Stones on which she might trip and fall.

Too much sun.

Too little sun.

And worst of all-

Members of the ton.

It was merely the first trimester and viscountess was torn between calming Anthony down (tactfully avoiding the information that the next months will be much more challenging) or just rushing away to her mother-in-law (yet, again) to seek aid in keeping him in check.

And just when she thought the oldest Bridgerton could not get any more obsessive, he took the lecture she was reading out of her hands.

“My dear, you cannot carry such weights. It’s straining and I am to protect you from threats.”

“It’s a book…” she frowned a little, but not without a hint of amusement in her voice

“It’s heavy.”  

“It's a 200 page novel…”

“It’s heavy.” Anthony’s voice was gentle, but firm. Both demanding and pleading.

“Anthony…”

“Y/N.”

“I can hold my own book.”

“We got servants for that.  In fact – let me call upon your maid and –“ he started walking towards the door in sheer purpose to liberate his dearest wife from the unnecessary burden.

Nonetheless his dearest wife had quite a different plan, reaching to grab his hand and stopping him in his tracks.

“My love. Please, come. Let us sit.” She guided him to the ottoman, still keeping the soft touch that was grounding to him.

Much to her surprise Anthony rushed to the furniture first, fixing pillows and blankets so Y/N could sit comfortably. And apparently that word, in his language, meant sitting half a meter in the air, covered from head to toe, regardless of the perfect spring weather outside.

“Here. Perfect.” He flashed a perfect smile, content with the spot he made for her.

“Anthony…”

“Yes, my love?” as he spun around meeting with her desperate look, the smile slowly disappeared from his face. “Y/N? Are you not feeling well?” Anthony grabbed both her hands in his, searching her face for any symptoms of malaise, dizziness, nausea. “Do you need some water? Or-“

“No, no, Anthony, please just listen to me for a moment-“

“Perhaps I should call upon Daphne, she already had a child of her own and she would be of help. Or maybe my mother could-“

“Anthony!” she laughed whole-heartedly at his  feverishness “I am not going to give birth in the fourth month of pregnancy! Please just calm down.”

“Just say a word and I’ll call for a medic immediately. Do not fret my dearest, I will take the best care of you. I swear on my life that-“

At that moment Y/N used the most effective way to stop his blubbering in the form of putting his hand on her slightly rounded belly in which their baby was healthily growing.

“Shh.” She whispered, putting her own palm on top of Anthony's, calming him down, letting him caress the stomach in hope to make him calm down. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I don’t need medic. Nor your mother. And certainly not your younger sister. I am feeling good and the only thing that concerns me is my husband's distress over nothing.”

“Nothing? You are carrying our baby!”

“And our baby needs his father to stop fretting.”

“But-“

“Here!” her eyes grew wide as she guided his hand to another place “did you feel it?”

“Was it--?” Anthony’s face expression mirrored the one of his wife.

“It kicked…” she whispered as their gazes met and for a second that extended into eternity, they just kept looking into each other’s eyes expressing so many feelings.

And then, almost as if in a dream, Anthony fell to his knees in front of Y/N, pressing his head into her belly.

“Our baby.” He whispered, kissing her body through the material of the dress. “our little baby.” He wrapped arms around her midsection with his ear pressed to the home of the child, almost hoping to hear him or her inside.

“Our baby…” she repeated with tears in her eyes. Despite knowing and obviously – feeling the imminent arrival of the new family member it was the first time she actually felt and knew. And it was beautiful. Her little bean was really there. Growing and waiting for the right moment to appear in the world, landing right into the waiting, safe arms of loving mother and father.      

“Do you think it can hear us?” Anthony pressed one ear to her stomach, his entire face lighting up at the possibility.

“Depends.” She chuckled

“On what?” his eyes travelled up to meet hers.

“If I say yes, will that mean you start talking to my insides?”

Anthony smirked.

“I will do that, even if you say no.”

“Then why the question?”

“Testing your knowledge.”

“I am not a doctor, Anthony. My expertise in the area might be a little limited.”

“Very well. Then give me an answer as a mother, not a medic.”

“Yes. Yes, I think it can hear us.” She cupped Anthony’s cheek in the affectionate gesture. There was something utterly heartening in seeing him like this. Holding her (and/or the baby) like she was the most precious thing in the world, needing the assurance that his child was already reaching to him.

That it could hear him, even if it wasn’t even born yet. Hoping for the love of the Lord that it was truly happening. That in a few months, that were going to pass by with extraordinary speed, the little one, a girl or a boy, would take a corporal form. That the viscount would not only be a noble and a husband but would also take on the new role – a father. A protector. Caregiver. A teacher, guardian and a guide. That somehow – his life would be complete. He’ll have his own little family. Something that was nearly impossible to him a few years prior.

And now-

“Anthony…” Y/N whispered, wiping a single tear from his eyes. “Sweetheart, what is wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong, love. It’s all perfect.”

“Then why are you-?”

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat and gathered himself.

“Of course not.” She laughed softly brushing his hair. “But if you’d want to actually talk to the baby, that would stay in this little circle.”

Anthony smiled lovingly, grateful for having his miracle of a woman in his life. She understood him so perfectly well.

“We’re waiting for you, little one.” He whispered against her attire, with a little muffled voice, be it from emotions or closeness of his lips on her body. “You are already loved by two people, with more to come.”

‘You can say it Anthony…” Y/N whispered, knowing what he was holding back.

“I love you my little one.” The viscount whispered with the softest voice, caressing the place where the kick was previously felt.

And they stood like that for a while longer, enjoying that moment of joy and thinking about the future that looked quite bright. 

[oceantornadoo]

his favorite patient (simon riley x f!reader)

part 5 of the two lieutenants series...toothrotting fluff

--

"where is she?"

ghost thundered into the base hospital, all teeth and claws. the hospital staff scattered in his wake, avoiding eye contact. finally, a doctor approached, looking down at her clipboard nervously. "who are you looking for, sir?" he tried not to antagonize medical staff, but someone needed to get it together. "the lieutenant." he spit out. "right this way, sir."

the doctor pushed through the door to your hospital room, the sterile breeze drifting through ghost's mask. the doctor moved out of the way so he finally could view you.

you, who had taken two bullets to your left arm and yet still managed to complete the mission. had dragged gaz out with you, who was recovering in the room next to you. you were asleep, brows furrowed even in your sleep. he drowned out the words of the doctor, opting instead to move closer to your bed. "she's alrigh'?" ghost mumured, almost to himself. "she'll need some PT to regain range of motion, but she'll be okay, sir. she's just taking some much needed rest." he nodded his thanks, and the doctor made her way out, smiling to herself as she closed the door.

ghost took off his balaclava, setting it on the table behind him. he took a seat on your bed, dwarfing the small bed with his frame. he smoothed out the furrow between your brows, his gloves long forgotten back on base, abandoned the moment he heard you were in the hospital. "s'pposed to be end game, yeah? can't get shot on me now." his thumb traced the slope of your nose, trailing to your lips, down to your jaw. "my brave dove." his thumb traveled to your collarbone, brushing back and forth. he lost sense of time, entranced in the feel of your skin, the softness against his battle worn skin. almost half an hour had passed until...

"simon?" you croaked out, throat parched. "yeah, baby? feel ok?" he was so enamored with you, all doe eyes staring back at him. ghost was gone, the bloody work done, and simon was here to stay. you nodded slowly, still recovering from the events of the past days. "thirsty." he was up immediately, looking for water. he found a water cup a nurse had dropped off earlier, so deep in his trance he hadn't seen her come in and out. "go'on." he offered you the straw and you sipped, trying to go slow. he watched your throat move up and down with every sip. "better?" you hummed your appreciation. "you don't have any recruits to bother?" he gave you a sideways grin, one of his rarities. "you're more important."

you're more important. simon was here, sitting vigil at your bedside. he shirked his duties just for you. "why are you here, si?" he clicked his teeth, breaking eye contact for the first time he'd been in the room. simon stared at the clock, stared out the window. "ya don't get it, do ya?" he turned back to stare at you. you shook your head, brows furrowing again. his thumb jumped out and smoothed it before even realizing. "i haven't taken you out on that date yet, but y'r it for me. i'm y'r lieutenant, yeah?" you reached your uninjured hand towards him and he leaned in, letting you cup his face. "its all or nothing for you, isn't it?" he nodded. "hav' to be in our line of work." you gave him a small smile. "what is this, a proposal, riley?" you brushed his thumb over his lips. "let me know when your left hand is healed for a ring, baby." you laughed and it was the sweetest sound in the world to him. "my answer is yes. and a maybe to the proposal. you're on a trial period." he nodded again, nuzzling into your hand. "jus' let me take care of you, yeah?" you nodded, falling back into your hospital bed. "now i can sleep." he kissed your forehead, and all was right in the world again.

--

ugh i want a boyfriend

[untolduttering]

Trust Me

Summary: Reader is terrified of medical needles and avoids Law when they get a deep enough cut to require stitches. They're caught, of course, and Law tries to help and calm a panicked reader.

Tags: hurt/comfort, blood, cutting, knives, medical needles, stitches, mutual pining

Word count: 2.3k

It happened so suddenly that for a moment, you could have imagined that it hadn’t happened at all. You were set to cutting some sailcloth after a run in with the navy left the sails with holes, and if not for the change in how the knife sliced through the fabric, you wouldn’t have noticed at all. The knife was sharp enough that there was barely any resistance as it gouged your arm. There wasn’t any initial pain either. You only grasped that there was indeed an injury once you stared at the wound, feeling the burn as it built and watching the blood flow to the surface, maintaining its surface tension before breaking and spilling over. You had already written off the flashes of white meat that gave away just how deep it was, telling yourself it only needed to be cleaned and wrapped. You snatched a spare piece of sail and pressed it to the wound, then took another to wrap around.

There wasn’t any need to worry, really. Small accidents like this happened all the time on the Polar Tang. Shachi scraping his palms on the rough surface of the deck as he fell, Penguin giggling behind him. Ikkaku dropping something heavy on someone’s foot, grimacing and apologizing profusely. If they didn’t, then Law would probably fall out of practice and lose his title.

That image of white meat flashed through your head again, and it coupled with the burning that only seemed to keep growing, never reaching its crescendo that promised eventual relief, made you think of the stitches that Law could possibly say it required. But it wasn’t bad enough for that, and Law deserved a break from time to time. So, you decided, this was something that you could handle by yourself. Even if Law always demanded that he was seen first in any case of injury, no matter how small, because he was the qualified one that could deem what required real attention, and he didn’t need anyone ruining the precise organization of his supplies. You could be careful, though. You knew what went where, and you only needed a few things. 

Steps slowing as you made it closer to the infirmary, you listened for any sign that Law may be nearby. The Polar Tang surfaced not too long ago, and so Law was most likely up on deck still assessing the damage. You pressed an ear to the closed door, though, waiting for any movement. At the lack of any sound, you entered, and shut the door behind you. It wasn’t avoidance, it was simply a need to not be bothersome over something so unimportant.

None of the cabinets and drawers themselves were labeled, as no one but Law rifled through them, so there was no need when he had it memorized. But it meant that you had to take the time to search through each one. You had to not only keep quiet, but try and keep any blood from getting onto his things.

A scurrying of footsteps rushed past the door, causing you to hold your breath and freeze. No one came in nor knocked, but if the crew members that had been on deck were moving around, it meant that Law might be below deck now too. You picked up pace, grimacing at every rattle and creak. Finally, you found the small butterfly bandages that would hold the wound close, and the wrapping as well. Your eyes skated over the suture kit as you grabbed what you needed and shut the drawer.

“Y/n-ya.”

You felt your stomach drop to the floor. Shit. You turned, keeping your right side facing him. Using your body to block your injured left arm from view, you let it rest on top of the counter, like it had been lifted as it was to lean against casually, and not because it was hurt and dripping. You looked him in the face because guilty people always avoided eye contact. It was set in a scowl as he waited for you to explain yourself. There was no need to chide someone that already knew they were in the wrong.

“I just needed a bandage. Small cut, I didn’t want to bother you about it,” you said. You kept your tone light, nonchalant, and tried at a self-deprecating, ‘I’m just so silly’ smile. And it might just have worked, except since all your attention was on your face and voice, you weren’t in control of your body. Law, a man keenly familiar with violence, could see the tension and threat your body held. Your pupils were dilated too, blown out to a concerning proportion. It was a look that promised that if he got any closer, you might just sink your teeth in.

“Mind if I take a look?” he asked.

Continuing to refuse would be suspicious. If it really had been a measly little cut, you would have readily shown it to him just to poke fun at his worry and overbearance. You would have gone to him in the first place for a simple bandage, too. He knew this was all odd. But what else was there?

“There’s really no need,” you huffed out. “I don’t need stitches or anything.”

His eyes flitted from your face to your body. Tiny smears of blood on the fabric of your coveralls that went unnoticed at first caught his eye. He stepped forward with an extended hand. “Y/n-ya, I’d like to see it.”

Unconsciously, you flinched back. Harder, with a panicked edge you didn’t mean to let slip, you said again, “I don’t need stitches.”

“I didn’t say anything about that yet.” His voice was low, almost like he was trying to soften it.

Yet. He probably hadn’t thought of stitches, but when you said it yourself, he knew that it was worse than he had initially thought.

Law took two steps closer, causing you to turn fully forward, hands lifted. “Stop, stop it. Please.” Your throat felt like it was tightening and it made you sound close to tears.

Law was staring at your arm, now fully revealed in its red glory. So, so much red. The sailcloth was fully soaked now. His jaw tightened and nostrils flared with a heavy exhale at the sight. He lifted both hands in the air, an image of surrender. “You need to let me help you.”

You flinched again, harder this time, fully aware of those hands, that he could easily force you to do whatever. He could shambles you where he wanted, pin you down, and jam that needle in and out of your arm. You shook your head, back and forth, back and forth. You started stepping to the side, pressing against the counter, trying to get farther away, but stopped when you realized all you were moving towards was the corner. The only exit was behind Law.

Deciding to stick with a firm approach, as you had to take orders from your captain, Law said, more stern, “Let me help you.” He took one more step forward.

Your panic tripled, thrilling all throughout your body. You were a cornered animal, coiled tight from the lack of options. “I don’t need your fucking help,” you snapped.

Law felt a flicker of irritation. If you wanted to bleed out, or worse, get an infection, then that was fine. He could leave you to it if you wanted to be that way. But he smothered that feeling quickly. Yes, he could force this. He could strap you down and have it all done in minutes. That wasn’t what a good captain, a good doctor, did though. He’d win, but you wouldn’t go anywhere near him for months, not without thinking of how he handled this. You were a part of his crew. You were someone who’s pain and tears actually made his heart squeeze. This was about trust. The idea of losing yours made his own panic flutter in a way he wasn’t familiar with.

He lowered his hands slowly and let them hang by his sides. He took a few steps back as well. Gentleness was not something he was adept at, but he could try.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, truly soft this time. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. I need you to trust me.”

The sudden change in his demeanor disarms you. You’d never heard him speak so softly, so earnestly, before. Your irrationality and the ridiculousness of your actions hit you, and suddenly your body drains, leaving you exhausted and sore. The wound on your arm is pulsating with ache. You do trust your captain. But your heart is still pounding. “I’m afraid.”

“I know.” Law's chest tightens at how meek those two words sounded. He moves now, albeit slowly, to you. He pauses right before his hands touch you, waiting for permission. You take a slight step forward, and he guides you toward the bed. He walks back to the counter to wash his hands and prep his tools.

“First I need to clean out the wound and make sure there isn’t anything left in there that can cause an infection. Then I’ll numb the area. Once fully numbed, I’ll do an interrupted stitch. That alright?”

Like you could really say no. It had to be done. But you knew he was doing it to give you a sense of control, and you gripped onto the kindness tightly. You nodded your assent.

After a thorough cleaning that has you hissing and huffing through your teeth, it's time for the first needle. Sitting again after going to the sink, you wait. Law lifts it from its place on the counter and brings it to your arm. You snap your head away, staring hard at the wall.

“Deep breaths,” he said. As soon as you inhaled, he stuck the needle in and pushed the plunger down. The cold burn of the liquid entering your arm made your breath hitch and your teeth to grind together. It was less from pain and more from the intrusion of something entering your body unnaturally. Law pulled the needle out and immediately rubbed soothing circles into the injection sight, gently as he was wary to add anymore hurt. You felt a keen disappointment when he stopped.

He placed the empty needle back onto the counter and pulled up the one chair in the room, deciding to sit while waiting for the numbing agent to kick in. He was close enough that your knees were nearly brushing. You fought back the urge to press them together.

“How’d it happen?” Law asked. He leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest.

“I was cutting sailcloth,” you said, jutting your chin toward the door, the vague gesture implying ‘out there’. “The knife slipped, I suppose. It happened so quickly.”

He hummed. “You should pay better attention. I’ll give you tasks without knives from now on.”

You pressed your lips together in a hard, thin line. As if you’d done it on purpose. “I was paying plenty of attention.” 

The corner of Law’s mouth twitched upward, like something about irking you brought him joy. Instead of annoyance, something about it warmed your chest. You glared at him without any heat behind it.

He nodded to your arm. “How’s it feel?”

You poked at the edge of your wound. You felt the vertigo that came from knowing there was something touching you but being unable to feel it. “All numbed up.” Taking a deep breath, you turned your head away again and lifted your arm towards him, letting Law know he could start.

He changed gloves before beginning. He started without warning, knowing well enough that a countdown meant nothing. Nothing would change the how and why of the needle going in and out. There wasn’t any pain and you didn’t necessarily feel it, but you could sense the needle breaking through your skin, dragging through the meat, and pulling back out. You felt the same of the thread. It made your stomach churn and your head spin. You dug your fingers into your thigh, needing the pressure to focus on.

Law took advantage of your inability to look at what he was doing to do some staring of his own. Knowing that you knew nothing of sutures, he knew he could stop and take you in without you asking why he’d stopped. Your eyebrows were drawn so tight together that it caused your nose to wrinkle a little. You bit down into your bottom lip as well, the queasiness you felt obvious on your face. The sight filled him with an unexpected tenderness each time he looked, and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to cup your face and smooth out your features. He wanted nothing more than to soothe you. But it was not something he could bring himself to do. The kindest thing he could do at this moment was finish the sutures.

The worst part was that he liked having you under his fingers like this. If it wasn’t so unsanitary, he’d have done this with his bare hands just so he could feel your skin. He’d let your blood settle under his nails so he could steal that small part of you for himself.

“Finished,” Law tells you.

“Thank you, Captain.”

 He puts the suture kit away and wraps your arm in gauze and bandage. “You’ll need to have me redo the bandaging every so often over the next few days. I’ll tell you when.” He could easily tell you how to do it yourself, give you all the supplies and when to do it and what to look for. But a selfish part of him needed to be the one doing it, so you’d have to keep coming back to him, so he could hear you thank him again and again.

And surprisingly,  you were content to let him do so. Such ministrations made you uncomfortable, or you straight out rejected it, because you knew that to lose that attention in the future would be painful. But you felt unbearably needy when it came to him, and would greedily take whatever he gave you, no matter how little it could be.

You left, unaware of Law’s hungry gaze as you went.

[chandralia]

Toga saying she loves both boys and girls explicitly, that she loves differently, was ridiculed/abused for FOR loving differently, saying she wanted to be like people around her instead. Twice suggesting her villain name be Carmilla? (THE FIRST LESBIAN VAMPIRE)

Ochako calling herself strange for wanting to save Toga, reaching out and leveling, speaking in a way only Toga can understand, telling her she’s the cutest girl in the whole world, and offering to give Toga her blood for the rest of her life??

Deku saying “I’ve spent my life chasing after you,”“you’re my image of victory,” that he “can’t imagine a world in which kacchan doesn’t exist,” “kacchan and everyone else” over and over again, LOSING HIS MIND WHEN ONLY KATSUKI’S INJURED, being told to control his heart three times (COUNT THEM: THREE) over Katsuki?? Kudou having to use Katsuki to motivate Deku? “their feelings become one” just from locking eyes…???? Deku’s world shifting when Katsuki’s alive again, looking at him in awe (the way he’s only ever looked at him).

Katsuki risking his life for Deku repeatedly, thinking of only him before death, having to imagine Deku in danger to further his quirk, being targeted because he’s the closest to Deku (VERBALLY STATED BY SHIGAFO), avoiding medical care at every turn to get to Deku, always reminiscing about their past, A MISSED HANDHOLD, imagining their future together and breaking down crying in front of Deku at the possibility of that being ripped from him, saying he wanted them to keep doing this forever?

“that’s just how shonen is, everyone’s gay but no one’s canon” SHUT UP PLEASE. we quite literally do not know what Hori is or isn’t allowed to do. He’s been vocal about fighting for what he wants in his story, and even if it is an executive or editor saying “no you can’t do this” look what he’s managed to do so far.

not to mention THREE canon trans characters, toga correcting overhaul at misgendering. kendo saying “I just want to be me” when talking about gender, the entire side plot with discrimination and people fighting for acceptance, Hori reading and approving all the stuff that happens in the light novels/team up missions, AND thanking/praising those authors for knowing his characters so well.

His assistant (nstime23) openly shipping bkdk, drawing fanart of them, blatantly using their ship name, WHILE STILL BEING MUTUALS WITH HORI.

and the reception???

Hori does not live under a rock. It’s not an “oopsie he made it gay on accident” thing, and it’s not done maliciously either.

sharing what I’ve said before because I’m tired:

[16woodsequ]

100 Asexual Books Rec List

For this list the goal is fiction books with a main character or significant secondary character that is on the Asexual spectrum, or non-fiction books about being Aspec.

Junior Novels

1. Rick by Alex Gino An eleven year old boy starting middle school begins discovering his asexuality admist the school's rainbow spectrum club. Also features transgender and crossdressing side characters, as well as a LGBTQIAP+ supporting cast.

2. Sal & Gabi Break the Universe by Carlos Alberto Pablo Hernandez In order to heal after his mother's death, Sal learned how to meditate. But no one expected him to be able to take it further and 'relax' things into existence. Turns out he can reach into time and space to retrieve things from other universes. Asexual Sal.

3. Hazel's Theory of Evolution by Lisa Jenn Bigelow Hazel knows a lot about the world. But even Hazel doesn't have answers for the questions awaiting her as she enters eighth grade. What if no one at her new school gets her, and she doesn't make any friends? What's going to happen to one of her moms, who's pregnant again after having two miscarriages? Why does everything have to change when life was already perfectly fine? Hazel (main character) is asexual and aromantic (it isn't said in the book, but it is specified in the author's note at the back of the book).

4. The Trouble with Robots by Michelle Mohrweis Evelyn strives for excellence. Allie couldn't care less. Together, these polar opposites must work together if they have any hope of saving their school's robotics program. Allie is asexual and/or aromantic. Junior graphic novel.

5. This is Our Rainbow by Editors Katherine Locke and Nicole Melleby Featuring contributions from Eric Bell, Katherine Locke and A.J. Sass, this first LGBTQA+ anthology for middle-grade readers presents stories of queer fantasy, historical and contemporary stories for every letter of the acronym.

6. Every Bird a Prince by Jenn Reese After she saves the life of a bird prince and becomes their champion, seventh grader Eren Evers must defend a forest kingdom, save her mom, and keep the friendships she holds dear--if she is brave enough to embrace her inner truths. Eren is aromantic (and I'm guessing asexual, though that isn't discussed).

YA Fiction

7. When Villains Rise by Rebecca Schaeffer With her best friend, Kovit's, life in danger, Nita is determined to take down the black market once and for all. Latina asexual and aromantic main character (Nita).

8. The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee Henry "Monty" Montague was bred to be a gentleman. His passions for gambling halls, late nights spent with a bottle of spirits, or waking up in the arms of women or men, have earned the disapproval of his father. His quest for pleasures and vices have led to one last hedonistic hurrah as Monty, his best friend and crush Percy, and Monty's sister Felicity begin a Grand Tour of Europe. When a reckless decision turns their trip abroad into a harrowing manhunt, it calls into question everything Monty knows, including his relationship with the boy he adores. Aro/ace secondary character (prequel to a Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy).

9. The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee A year after an accidentally whirlwind grand tour with her brother Monty, Felicity Montague has returned to England with two goals in mind—avoid the marriage proposal of a lovestruck suitor from Edinburgh and enroll in medical school. A highly loved book in regards to asexual portrayal, Felicity’s journey does a fantastic job of exploring the struggle of navigating a world where marriage is expected of women in order to function in society. Even more refreshing is Felicity isn’t just avoiding getting married out of a sole rebellion against the patriarchy (though those themes are also present), but simply because she doesn’t have an interest in sexual or romantic relationships at all.

10. Silver in the Mist by Emily Victoria Asexual Devlin has grown up in the shadow of her mother’s impressive spy network—and the shadow of the kingdom, too. A magical mist is eating away at their borders, weakening their magic and making them vulnerable to attacks. Devlin is tasked with infiltrating the royal court of the wealthier neighboring kingdom, but when she befriends their most powerful magic wielder, she discovers an ancient mystery that may hold the key to defeating the mists for good. Victoria prioritizes strong friendships between queer characters and an examination of wealth disparity in this fantasy full of twists and turns.

11. Not Good for Maidens by Tori Bovalino Beneath the streets of York, the goblin market calls to the Wickett women-the family of witches that tends to its victims. For generations, they have defended the old cobblestone streets with their magic. Knowing the dangers, they never entered the market-until May Wickett fell for a goblin girl, accepted her invitation, and became inextricably tied to the world her family tried to protect her from. Told through dual narratives in different timelines, the book essentially has two protagonists: Lou and May. Between these two characters, we have some great queer representation for both asexuality and bisexuality.

12. A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger Themes of magic, family, asexuality, and traditional storytelling dominate in Lipan Apache author Darcie Little Badger's delightful and uplifting second YA novel. A Lipan girl named Nina collides with Oli who is from the land of spirits and monsters. But some people will do anything to keep them apart. This is a wholesome, elegantly written read guaranteed to warm your heart! 

13. Arden Grey by Ray Stoeve Arden Grey is a novel about different kinds of abusive relationships, as well as the strength of family and friendships. Following her parents' separation, Arden is depressed and coming to accept herself as being on the asexual spectrum.

14. It Sounds Like This by Anna Meriano Yasm Trevi didn't have much of a freshman year thanks to Hurricane Humphrey, but she's ready to take sophomore year by storm. That means mastering the marching side of marching band--fast!--so she can outshine her BFF Sofia as top of the flute section, earn first chair, and impress both her future college admission boards and her comfortably unattainable drum major crush Gilberto Reyes. But Yasm steps off on the wrong foot when she reports an anonymous gossip Instagram account harassing new band members and accidentally gets the entire low brass section suspended from extracurriculars. Rep: Biracial Latina fat asexual-questioning cis female MC, Jewish gray-aromantic gray-asexual male side character with ADHD and APD.

15. One for All by Lillie Lainoff In 1655 sixteen-year-old Tania is the daughter of a retired musketeer, but she is afflicted with extreme vertigo and subject to frequent falls; when her father is murdered she finds that he has arranged for her to attend Madame de Treville's newly formed Acadaemie des Mariées in Paris, which, it turns out, is less a school for would-be wives, than a fencing academy for girls--and so Tania begins her training to be a new kind of musketeer, and to get revenge for her father. Rep: disability, asexuality, sapphic side characters, POTS and PTSD.

16. The State of Us by Shaun David Hutchinson When Dean Arnault’s mother decided to run for president, it wasn’t a surprise to anyone, least of all her son. But still that doesn’t mean Dean wants to be part of the public spectacle that is the race for the White House—at least not until he meets Dre. The only problem is that Dre Rosario’s on the opposition; he’s the son of the Democratic nominee. In a moment of solidarity and high emotions, Dean tells Dre that he has been questioning his sexual orientation. He isn’t sure if he’s asexual or demisexual. Dre puts a messaging app on Dean’s phone so they can stay in touch.

17. Scavenge the Stars by Tara Sim When Amaya rescues a mysterious stranger from drowning, she fears her rash actions have earned her a longer sentence on the debtor ship where she’s been held captive for years. Instead, the man she saved offers her unimaginable riches and a new identity, setting Amaya on a perilous course through the coastal city-state of Moray, where old-world opulence and desperate gamblers collide. Amaya wants one thing: revenge against the man who ruined her family and stole the life she once had. Desi, demisexual female protagonist. 

18. Camp by Lev AC Rosen It’s Randy’s fifth year at Camp Outland, a camp where queer teens get a chance to be themselves. Hoping to win over Hudson’s heart—who’s masc and straight passing and only seems to date other guys like himself—Randy has spent the past year reinventing himself: workout regimen, new haircut, new carefully curated wardrobe. His friends and camp counsellor all think it’s a terrible idea, but what can they do but support him anyways?

19. Little Thieves by Margaret Owen Once upon a time, the daughter of death and fortune was a teenage girl and she was the worst. Little Thieves is, as the dedication says, for the gremlin girls, never has there been a more gremlin girl than Vanja Schmidt. A brilliant and brazen swindler, Vanja could give Kaz Brekker a run for his money. But Vanja has bigger fish to fry. As her body rapidly turns into the gemstones she craves, Vanja must put things right and face her greed head on all while juggling her engagement to a terrible margrave, an investigator with his own magic, and the princess whose face she stole. Vanja’s relationship with junior prefect Emeric could not be more demisexual if it tried, with both sides of the romance experiencing asexual spectrum existence in different and complimentary ways. One part Germanic fairytale, one part ensemble heist, Little Thieves is an unhinged romp of a book.

20. Everyone Hates Kelsie Miller by Meredith Ireland Rom-coms and the asexuality spectrum...two great things that go great together. Kelsie and Eric have been competing against each other their whole lives. But desperation forces them to work together. Kelsie’s best friend stopped talking to her and Eric wants to rekindle his relationship with his ex-girlfriend, and since both will be at UPenn at the same time, Eric and Kelsie decide to go on a road trip together. Sparks fly.

21. You Don't Have a Shot by Racquel Marie Valentina "Vale" Castillo-Green's life revolves around soccer. Her friends, her future, and her father's intense expectations are all wrapped up in the beautiful game. But after she incites a fight during playoffs with her long-time rival, Leticia Ortiz, everything she's been working toward seems to disappear. Queer asexual biracial (Colombian, Irish) protagonist.

22. Foul Lady Fortune by Chloe Gong In 1931 Shanghai, two Nationalist spies pose as a married couple to investigate a series of brutal murders causing unrest in the city. Rep: demisexual Chinese protagonist, bisexual Chinese protagonist, bisexual Chinese main character, Chinese trans woman main character, aromantic asexual side character; (Chinese-Kiwi author).

23. The Spy with the Red Ballon by Katherine Locke Siblings Ilse and Wolf hide a deep secret in their blood: with it, they can work magic. And the government just found out. Blackmailed into service during World War II, Ilse lends her magic to America’s newest weapon, the atom bomb, while Wolf goes behind enemy lines to sabotage Germany’s nuclear program. It’s a dangerous mission, but if Hitler were to create the bomb first, the results would be catastrophic. Gay demisexual Jewish protagonist.

24. Beneath the Citadel by Destiny Soria Cassa, the orphaned daughter of rebels, and friends Alys, Evander, and Newt, fight back against the high council of Eldra, which has ruled for centuries based solely on ancient prophesies. Alys, an apothecary-in-training and the level-headed one of the crew. She identifies as asexual.

25. Eliza and Her Monsters by Francesca Zappia Eighteen-year-old Eliza Mirk is the anonymous creator of the wildly popular webcomic Monstrous Sea, but when a new boy at school tempts her to live a life offline, everything she's worked for begins to crumble. Asexual main character, not explicitly stated in the book.

26. Technically, You Started It by Lana Wood Johnson When a guy named Martin Nathaniel Munroe II texts you, it should be obvious who you're talking to. Except there's two of them (it's a long story), and Haley thinks she's talking to the one she doesn't hate. Demisexual main character.

27. Now Entering Addamsville by Francesca Zappia Zora Novak is framed for a crime she didn't commit--in a town obsessed with ghosts, will she be able to find the culprit and clear her name before it's too late? It's a brief mention, but Zora is ace.

28. Fully Disclosure by Camryn Garrett In a community that isn’t always understanding, an HIV-positive teen must navigate fear, disclosure, and radical self-acceptance when she falls in love–and lust–for the first time. One of Simone’s best friends in the book, Claudia, is an asexual lesbian. The unwavering support she gives to Simone is heartwarming, and she is also openly sex-positive—which flips the script on its head regarding what most people would assume of asexual people.

30. The Art of Saving the World by Corinne Duyvis When Hazel Stanczak was born, an interdimensional rift tore open near her family’s home, which prompted immediate government attention. They soon learned that if Hazel strayed too far, the rift would become volatile and fling things from other dimensions onto their front lawn—or it could swallow up their whole town. Hazel Stanczak identifies as asexual, though she spends time in the book questioning it. The book presents a unique way to show that there is not one single way to be asexual—that it exists on a spectrum and can look different for each person.

31. Let's Talk About Love by Claire Kann Alice had her whole summer planned. Non-stop all-you-can-eat buffets while marathoning her favorite TV shows (best friends totally included) with the smallest dash of adulting–working at the library to pay her share of the rent. The only thing missing from her perfect plan? Her girlfriend (who ended things when Alice confessed she’s asexual). Alice is done with dating–no thank you, do not pass go, stick a fork in her, done. Alice is a biromantic and asexual black woman who starts off very confident in her identity as asexual, yet has experiences that have her questioning her orientation and how to talk about it.

32. In the Ravenous Dark by AdriAnne Strickland A pansexual blood mage reluctantly teams up with an undead spirit to start a rebellion among the living and the dead. This book features Japha, an asexual nonbinary character who serves as the best friend to the MC.

33. Seven Ways We Lie by Riley Redgate Life at Paloma High School is much like any other high school, with petty drama, judgmental assholes, and mind-numbing schoolwork. Until it isn’t. A scandal emerges: a student and teacher had an illicit affair. At the center of the scandal are seven teenagers, each with their own secrets, whose lives are transformed as a result of this scandal. One of the characters can be read as asexual (and possibly neurodiverse). He never explicitly labels himself as such, but the way he describes his experiences of [non-]attraction strongly point to him being on the ace spectrum.

34. Quicksilver by R. J. Anderson Tori thought she had left her past behind when she and her family started a new life in a new city. But then Sebastian Faraday reappears in her life to tell her that she’s not quite as safe as she thinks: the relay is still operating and a genetics lab is trying to track her down to figure out the secret behind her unusual biology. Tori is going to have to use all of her considerable technical expertise to escape her past and live the normal human life she’s always wanted to have. Asexual main character.

35. Hullmetal Girls by Emily Skrutskie Aisha Un-Haad, seventeen, and Key Tanaka, eighteen, have risked everything for new lives as mechanically enhanced soldiers, and when an insurrection forces dark secrets to surface, the fate of humanity is in their hands. In Hullmetal Girls, Aisha is not only ace/aro but she is also happy with her identity. Crucially, so is everyone else.

36. Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer Nita's mother hunts monsters and, after Nita dissects and packages them, sells them online, but when Nita follows her conscience to help a live monster escape, she is sold on the black market in his place. Aro/Ace main character

37. Before I Let Go by Marieke Nijkamp When Corey moves away from Lost Creek, Alaska, she makes her friend Kyra promise to stay strong during the long, dark winter, and wait for her return. Just days before Corey is to return home to visit, Kyra dies. The entire Lost community speaks in hushed tones, saying her death was meant to be. And they push Corey away like she's a stranger. With every hour, Corey's suspicion grows. Lost is keeping secrets-- but piecing together the truth about what happened to her best friend may prove as difficult as lighting the sky in an Alaskan winter. Aro/Ace main character.

38. If It Makes You Happy by Claire Kann Winnie is living her best fat girl life and is on her way to the best place on earth. No, not Disneyland–her Granny’s diner, Goldeen’s, in the small town of Misty Haven. While there, she works in her fabulous 50’s inspired uniform, twirling around the diner floor and earning an obscene amount of tips. With her family and ungirlfriend at her side, she has everything she needs for one last perfect summer before starting college in the fall. …until she becomes Misty Haven’s Summer Queen in a highly anticipated matchmaking tradition that she wants absolutely nothing to do with. Aro/ace secondary character.

39. Dread Nation by Justina Ireland An alternate history where the Civil War was put on hold when zombies started to rise. Almost finished with her education at Miss Preston's School of Combat in Baltimore, Jane is set on returning to her Kentucky home and doesn't pay much mind to the politics of the eastern cities, with their talk of returning America to the glory of its days before the dead rose.But when families around Baltimore County begin to go missing, Jane is caught in the middle of a conspiracy, one that finds her in a desperate fight for her life against some powerful enemies. And the restless dead, it would seem, are the least of her problems. The word asexual is not used, but that fits with the setting, and the explanation goes into a fair amount of detail, also ruling out that she likes women instead.

40. Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson When her convent is attacked by possessed soldiers, Artemisia defends the Gray Sisters by awakening the revenant bound to a saint's relic, even though she runs the risk of being possessed permanently by the powerful ancient spirit. Non-explicit romantic asexual main character. Fantasy.

41. Archivist Wasp by Nicole Kornher-Stace A postapocalyptic ghosthunter escapes her dire fate by joining the ghost of a supersoldier on his quest to the underworld Aromantic asexual main character. Dark fantasy/dystopian.

42. Summer of Salt by Katrina Leno While anyone would love to have a bit of magic, what happens when magic turns dark? Georgina Fernweh will come into her magic someday soon. Before she does, Georgina faces a tragedy that tests the islanders' trust. In this book, Georgina’s best friend Vira is aroace, and it’s addressed somewhat in the story at different points. There is a sweet strength between Georgina and Vira, full of loyalty and support that is lovely to see.

43. The Summer of Bitter and Sweet by Jen Ferguson In this moving and complex narrative, Lou learns to draw boundaries, stand up for herself, all while coming to terms with her demisexuality.

44. The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow One-third of the human population has died and now the world is about to end. Ellie, a fat, Black, disabled, demisexual girl with access to an illegal library teams up with a music-loving alien to risk their lives to save the world.

45. The Grimrose Girls by Laura Pohl Pohl serves up a veritable smorgasbord of queer fairytale goodies in Grimrose Girls. This tale as old as time follows four students at the prestigious boarding school Grimrose Academy—Ella, Yuki, Rory, and newcomer Nani. When the former three’s best friend dies, all four girls are swept up in a dark and twisted mystery full of old fairytale magic. They must work together to unravel the secrets between them and break an ancient curse that dooms them to a fairytale ending (and not the fun kind). Yuki’s aromantic asexual identity is explored in her relationship to expectations, beauty, and friendship throughout the novel.

46. Radio Silence by Alice Oseman Frances has been a study machine with one goal. Nothing will stand in her way; not friends, not a guilty secret – not even the person she is on the inside. Then Frances meets Aled, and for the first time, she’s unafraid to be herself. So when the fragile trust between them is broken, Frances is caught between who she was and who she longs to be. In this book, Aled identifies as demisexual while Frances identifies as bisexual. The story really pays homage to the importance of friendship, and romantic storylines move to the background in a way we don’t often get in YA literature.

47. This Golden Flame by Emily Victoria Forced to serve her country’s ruling group, Karis wants nothing more than to find her brother. But family bonds don’t matter to the sole focus of unlocking the magic of an ancient automaton army. Karis is ace and other LGBTQ+ characters are introduced throughout.

48. Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand A horror novel centered around three girls facing off against an unseen monster that preys upon the young women of the island of Sawkill Rock. Features a black asexual girl fresh out of a romantic relationship, as well as a f/f relationship.

49. Love Letters for Joy by Melissa See Less than a year away from graduation, seventeen-year-old Joy is too busy overachieving to be worried about relationships. She’s determined to be Caldwell Prep’s first disabled valedictorian. And she only has one person to beat, her academic rival Nathaniel. But it’s senior year and everyone seems to be obsessed with pairing up. One of her best friends may be developing feelings for her and the other uses Caldwell’s anonymous love-letter writer to snag the girl of her dreams. Joy starts to wonder if she has missed out on a quintessential high school experience. She is asexual, but that’s no reason she can’t experience first love, right?

50. Not Your Backup by C. B. Lee Part 3 in the Sidekick Squad series by C.B. Lee. Follows a questioning aromantic asexual latinx superhero sidekick fighting to prove her worth on the team despite her lack of superpowers, all admist the team's battle against the corrupt League of Heroes.

51. Belle Révolte by Linsey Miller Noble-born Emilie des Marais, 16, wants to become a physician, a role usually forbidden women of her class because of the corruptive toll the magical "noonday arts" exact. Common-born Annette Boucher wants to escape her domineering parents and master the less physically costly "midnight arts" of illusions, divination, and scrying, normally reserved for those who can afford the expensive education. At Emilie's urging, each girl takes the other's place. Miller (Ruin of Stars) writes in lush, dense prose that can require a careful read, but her protagonists' awareness of privilege and desire to challenge the status quo shines through. LGBTQ representation--including gay, trans, and nonbinary characters (Annette identifies as asexual biromantic)--further widens this tale's appeal.

52. Tarnished Are the Stars by Rosiee Thor A secret beats inside Anna Thatcher's chest: an illegal clockwork heart. Anna works cog by cog -- donning the moniker Technician -- to supply black market medical technology to the sick and injured, against the Commissioner's tyrannical laws. Determined to earn his father's respect, Nathaniel sets out to capture the Technician. But the more he learns about the outlaw, the more he questions whether his father's elusive affection is worth chasing at all. This YA novel features an aroace character gradually coming to accept his orientation in the midst of everything else that is happening in his life. Perfect for older teens who also enjoy WLW representation and dark themes.

53. Aces Wild: A Heist by Amanda DeWitt An all-asexual online friend group attempts to break into a high-stakes gambling club and commit a heist together. Includes a male asexual character navigating what love looks like for him, an aromantic asexual Latinx gender-nonconforming boy, a Vietnamese American and German asexual nonbinary teen, and a black asexual girl.

54. Planning Perfect by Haley Neil Summer vacation quickly becomes complicated for Felicity Becker as she tries to plan a perfect wedding for her mom, figure out her feelings for her friend Nancy, and wonder what dating will look like for her as an asexual person.

55. Ace of Hearts by Myriad Augustine Everyone around Alvin seems to be obsessed with one thing-- sex. Alvin finds it uncomfortable to think and talk about it and he knows he isn't ready and may never be. His friends, however, think that all Alvin needs is to hook up with the right guy. But the closer Alvin gets to being physical with someone, the more he's uncertain that this is for him and he begins to wonder if he's asexual. Can Alvin find the love that's right for him?

56. Beyond the Black Door by AdriAnne Strickland Everyone has a soul. Some are beautiful gardens, others are frightening dungeons. Kamia comes to know more about her identity as she decides to battle the forces of evil, no matter the cost... Asexual and demi-romantic main characters. Dark fantasy. Kamai is asexual, but isn’t aromantic—she has an interest in relationships that isn’t always depicted for those who are ace.

57. Loveless by Alice Oseman A queer coming of age story featuring a romance obsessed aromantic asexual main character discovering her sexuality and coming to terms with what that means, and a variety of other queer characters that support her on her journey.

58. Summer Bird Blue by Akemi Dawn Bowman Rumi Seto spends a lot of time worrying she doesn’t have the answers to everything. What to eat, where to go, whom to love. But there is one thing she is absolutely sure of—she wants to spend the rest of her life writing music with her younger sister, Lea. Then Lea dies in a car accident, and her mother sends her away to live with her aunt in Hawaii while she deals with her own grief. While not the main focal point of the book, Rumi does grapple throughout the story about where exactly she lands on the ace and aro spectrum—and whether she has to label herself at all.

59. Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee In this queer rom-com, a transgender teen must decide if he's dedicated to romantic formulas or open to unpredictable love after an internet troll attack on his blog compels him and a fan to start fake-dating. Through an unlikely friendship with sweet, grounded Devin, who is Cuban American, asexual, and experimenting with pronouns, Noah--initially self-centered and standoffish--learns to value communication and empathy.

60. The Reckless Kind by Carly Heath In 1904 Norway, Asta runs away from her horrible fiancé to live with her two best friends. The three misfits set out to win the annual Christmas sleigh race to prove that they belong together. Queer asexual hard of hearing protagonist with heterochromia of Norwegian descent.

61. Forward March by Skye Quinlan How can band geek Harper have the chance of becoming the First Daughter with a fake dating profile? However, Harper does know that the drumline leader swiped right. Come along with Harper as she explores her truth during her last year of high school. Asexual-questioning cis female MC with anxiety and asthma.

62. Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger What if America had monsters, magic, and interdimensional beings? For Elatsoe, this is real, and she has to uncover her cousin's murder! She can do this with the help of her ghost dog, Kirby, but has to remember not to wake human ghosts. Aromantic ace main character. Paranormal mystery. Casual representation which extends to Ellie’s identity as Lipan Apache. This identity is asserted more often and firmly than her asexuality, and Little Badger drops in nuggets of education for us settlers about what Indigenous people, and the Lipan Apache in particular, suffered at the hands of settlers.

63. All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens Throughout the Ages by Editor Robin Talley A collection of short fantasy stories, featuring a variety of queer characters across multiple sexualities and genders. Features an asexual roller-skating girl from the 70s struggling to explain her identity to her crush.

64. Black Wings Beating by Alex London Twins Brysen and Kylee live in a world that revers the power of the falconers, but in a world where war approaches, they aren’t safe. Hunted for their power, they work together to trap the Ghost Eagle. Kylee is an ace character, focused on protecting her brother.

Graphic Novels

65. A-okay by Jarad Greene Eight grade can be tough, especially if you have acne and bullies, and lose friends. But our relatable asexual and aromantic protagonist, Jay, pulls through. This is a relatable memoir with colorful artwork.

66. How to Be Ace: A Memoir of Growing up Asexual by Rebecca Burgess A comic memoir detailing the author Rebecca Burgess's experience with growing up asexual in a world obsessed with sex. Also talks about her experiences with her own mental health and OCD.

67. Jughead, Volume 1 by Chip Zdarsky A comic book reboot of the Archie comics centered around Jughead Jones. Follows an aromantic asexual main character in typical Archie-style shenanigans. Part 1 of a 3 part series.

68. A Quick & Easy Guide to Asexuality by Molly Muldoon A charming introduction to asexuality, created to shed light on the misconceptions surrounding sex and being asexual. Told by writer Molly Muldoon and cartoonist Will Hernandez, both on the asexual spectrum.

69. Is Love the Answer? by Isaki Uta A poignant coming-of-age story about a young woman coming into her own as she discovers her identity as aromantic asexual. A complete story in a single volume, from the creator of "Mine-kun is Asexual."

Domestic Fiction

70. Have You Seen Luis Velez by Catherine Ryan Hyde Raymond Jaffe feels like he doesn't belong. Not with his mother's new family. Not as a weekend guest with his father and his father's wife. Not at school, where he's an outcast. After his best friend moves away, Raymond has only two real connections: to the feral cat he's tamed and to a blind ninety-two-year-old woman in his building who's introduced herself with a curious question: Have you seen Luis Velez? Mildred Gutermann, a German Jew who narrowly escaped the Holocaust, has been alone since her caretaker disappeared. She turns to Raymond for help, and as he tries to track Luis down, a deep and unexpected friendship blossoms between the two. Raymond is asexual (to be precise, he is aroace) And he is depicted as kind, loving, sensitive and realistic.

Fantasy

71. In the Lives of the Puppets by TJ Klune In a strange little home built into the branches of a grove of trees, live three robots--fatherly inventor android Giovanni Lawson, a pleasantly sadistic nurse machine, and a small vacuum desperate for love and attention. Victor Lawson, a human, lives there too. They're a family, hidden and safe. Protagonist: Vic, A curious, loving, & asexual human.

72. The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon In the mid-21st century major world cities are controlled by a formidable security force and clairvoyant underworld cell member Paige commits acts of psychic treason before being captured by an otherworldly race that would make her a part of their supernatural army. Demisexual main character.

73. The Perfect Assassin by K.A. Doore Divine justice is written in blood. Or so Amastan has been taught. As a new assassin in the Basbowen family, he's already having second thoughts about taking a life. A scarcity of contracts ends up being just what he needs. Until, unexpectedly, Amastan finds the body of a very important drum chief. Until, inevitably, Amastan is ordered to solve these murders, before the family gets blamed. Amastan is asexual and, as it turns out, homoromantic.

74. The Bruising of Quilwa by Naseem Jamnia Firuz-e Jafari was able to escape the slaughter of traditional blood magic practitioners by immigrating to the city-state of Qilwa. But now a terrible disease is spreading through the city, and Firuz believes it comes from ineptly performed blood magic. Now they must find a way to break a cycle of prejudice in order to survive. From the author: it's about an aroace nonbinary refugee healer who is trying to cure a magical plague in their new home while hiding their blood magic.

75. The Midnight Bargain by C. L. Polk The Midnight Bargain is a story "set in a world reminiscent of Regency England, where women's magic is taken from them when they marry. A sorceress must balance her desire to become the first great female magician against her duty to her family. Ysbeta has a clear goal for her life: to discover and share magic. Besides loving learning for its own sake, Ysbeta is asexual, and wealthy in her own right, so the bargaining season offers her literally nothing.

76. Every Heart A Doorway by Seanan McGuire Set in a world where a group of children have the ability to find and enter doorways into magical worlds, and now must find who's targetting them for this ability. Lead by an female asexual main character, with a trans love interest. First book in a series of novellas.

Science Fiction

77. The First Sister by Linden A. Lewis She's a priestess of the Sisterhood, traveling the stars alongside the soldiers of Earth who own the rights to her body and soul. When her former captain abandons her, First Sister's hopes for freedom are dashed and she is forced to stay on her ship with no friends, no status, and a new captain she knows nothing about. When the Mother, leader of her order, asks her to spy on Captain Saito Ren, First Sister discovers that sacrificing for the war effort is so much harder to do when your loyalties are split. He climbed his way out of the slums to become an elite soldier of Venus, but now he's haunted by his failures and the loss of his partner Hiro. But when Lito learns that Hiro is alive, but a traitor, and he's assigned to hunt Hiro down, and kill them, Lito must decide what he is actually fighting for - the society that raised him, or himself. As the battle to control Ceres reaches a head, Lito and First Sister must decide what - and whom - they are willing to sacrifice in the name of duty, or for love. Hispanic panromantic asexual protagonist (Lito).

78. Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace Mal is one of many war survivors in the old town working multiple jobs to scrimp by, one of which is her team's streaming video game play. The team lives with several other roommates in a converted hotel room run by Stellaxis, the company that owns half of town, and is the only legal provider of drinkable water. When Mal catches sight of an elusive SecOps character, special non-player characters (NPCs) modeled after Stellaxis' twelve bioengineered operatives, the team pursues her inside the game to catch her on video for two seconds before their power curfew kicks in. By the time Mal heads down for her daily ration of water, they've secured a lucrative contract, involving an in-person meeting and a conspiracy theory, paying them to capture images of the three living SecOps characters. When Mal returns to find out why the next payment failed, she becomes involved in a fracas that will endanger everyone she knows. Aroace main character.

79. To be Taught, If Fortunate by Becky Chambers Four astronauts set out to explore the galaxy. This journey spans centuries and many worlds. A thought provoking read that explores the themes of loneliness and sense of purpose. Excellent cast of diverse characters and vivid world building. Chikondi is asexual and the text is careful to note that his relationship to the protagonist is no less emotional or vital than those she shares with people she is sexually involved with.

80. The Circus Infinite by Khan Wong What better person to take down a crime boss than a mixed-species fugitive! Join Jes on this exciting tale of espionage, torture, demolition. Sex-averse panromantic asexual lead character

Historical Fiction

81. Kaikeyi by Vasihnavi Patel The only daughter of the kingdom of Kekaya, she is raised on grand stories about the might and benevolence of the gods. Yet she watches as her father unceremoniously banishes her mother, her own worth measured by how great a marriage alliance she can secure. And when she calls upon the gods for help, they never seem to hear. Desperate for some measure of independence, she turns to the ancient texts she once read with her mother and discovers a magic that is hers alone. Kaikeyi is asexual and aromantic. Although the words "asexual" and "aromantic" aren't used in the book.

Western

82. The Complete Lady Ruth Constance Chapelstone Chronicles by L. C. Mawson If you’re looking for steampunk magic, the Lady Ruth Constance Chapelstone novellas are the place for you. Read them individually or all together in this compendium. Chapelstone is interested in her inventions, not love and romance.

Paranormal

83. The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Homes by Joseph Fink Told in a series of eerie flashbacks, the story of The Faceless Old Woman goes back centuries to reveal an initially blissful and then tragic childhood on a Mediterranean Estate in the early nineteenth century, her rise in the criminal underworld of Europe, a nautical adventure with a mysterious organization of smugglers, her plot for revenge on the ones who betrayed her, and ultimately her death and its aftermath, as her spirit travels the world for decades until settling in modern-day Night Vale. Asexual secondary character.

Romance  

84. All the Wrong Places by Ann Gallagher After his three ex-girlfriends in a row leave Brennan because he's not fulfilling their sexual needs, he seeks out advice from Zafir, the owner of a sex shop. Zafir introduces Brennan to the concept of asexuality and slowly something more blossoms between them.

85. That Kind of Guy by Talia Hibbert Rae needs a fake date to take to her ex's wedding and convinces Zach, a close friend who has recently discovered that he is demisexual, to play along.

86. The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood In an attempt to convince her best friend that she really is over her ex-boyfriend, grad-student Olive panic kisses stern associate professor Adam in the hallway. (Olive is coded as demisexual/graysexual, but that label is never used in the book).

87. Far From Home by Lorelie Brown The oddest of odd couples finds unexpected joy in Brown’s warm, sweet contemporary romance. American citizen Rachel, a not-quite-asexual assistant film producer struggling to make a living in L.A., is drowning in student debt; Indian immigrant Pari Sadashiv, a lesbian logistics manager, needs a U.S. green card to advance her career. When Rachel offers to marry Pari in exchange for funds, it’s just party banter at first—but what’s to stop them from crafting a friendship with legal and financial benefits? Their platonic plans quickly go awry as Pari’s mother moves in to help plan the wedding, forcing them to live their lie. As Rachel feels herself awakening to an attraction she didn’t even know was possible, Pari has to decide whether she can live with the possible fallout of Rachel’s tentative first foray into same-sex love.

88. Kiss Her Once for Me by Alison Cochrun Last Christmas, Ellie met Jack in Powell’s when they both went for a copy of Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home, and over a cute argument over “shared custody”, and Jack poking gentle fun at Ellie (who had been crying alone and talking to a footstool as if it were her friend) they start to bond. Jack asks Ellie for coffee, and then they end up spending the whole day together. This is a big deal for Ellie, who is demisexual, and rarely develops attractions to anyone. And then Jack breaks her heart. Fast-forward to this Christmas when Andrew, the landlord who owns the building she works in, asks her to fake-marry him so he can access his inheritance, and shenanigans lead to her agreeing to this and to going home with him for Christmas, and surprise! Jack is Andrew’s sister.

89. The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun Tech wunderkind Charlie has never really been interested in dating, but agrees to join the cast of reality show 'Ever After.' While there he finds himself charmed by his producer, Dev, and questioning his sexuality. The Charm Offensive includes a conversation discussing asexuality and its spectrum.

90. Never Been Kissed by Timothy Janovsky Wren Roland has never been kissed, but he wants that movie-perfect ending more than anything. Thanks to Mateo’s boyfriend, he learns about demisexuality and realizes that when he came out as gay, he had not finished realizing truths about himself and intimate relationships.

91. How to be a Normal Person by TJ Klune Before The House on the Cerulean Sea blew up, Klune wrote this quirky and delightful story of two asexual people finding each other and their happily ever after.

92. Soft on Soft by Mina Waheed This super sweet, low-angst romance centers on two fat, queer women of colour (one Black and one Persian-Arab) who fall in love and find their happy ending with hardly any drama. There’s also anxiety representation. It’s just pure fluffy romance goodness. Demisexual protagonist.

Non-Fiction

93. Ace and Aro Journeys: A Guide to Embracing your Asexual or Aromantic Identity by The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project What does it mean to be ace or aro? How should I approach the challenges that come with being ace or aro? How can I best support the ace and aro people in my life? Join the The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project (TAAAP) for a deep dive into the process of discovering and embracing your ace and aro identities. Empower yourself to explore the nuances of your identity, find and develop support networks, explore different kinds of partnership, come out to your communities and find real joy within. Combining a rigorous exploration of identity and sexuality models with hundreds of candid and poignant testimonials -- this companion vouches for your personal truth, wherever you lie on the aspec spectrum. You are not invisible! You are among friends.

94. Being Ace: An Anthology of Queer, Trans, Femme, and Disabled Stories of Asexual Love and Connection by Editor Madeline Dyer Discover the infinite realms of asexual love across sci-fi, fantasy, and contemporary stories From a wheelchair user racing to save her kidnapped girlfriend and a little mermaid who loves her sisters more than suitors, to a slayer whose virgin blood keeps attracting monsters, the stories of this anthology are anything but conventional. Whether adventuring through space, outsmarting a vengeful water spirit, or surviving haunted cemeteries, no two aces are the same in these 14 unique works that highlight asexual romance, aromantic love, and identities across the asexual spectrum

95. Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen A non-fiction research book about the asexual perspective on society's facinations with love and sex, and the misconceptions about what being asexual really is and what it means to a person.

96. The Invisible Orientation: an Introduction to Asexuality by Julia Sondra Decker An introduction to what asexuality is, both for people who don't know what that means and for people that may be questioning their own sexuality. It aims to puts asexual people's experiences in context, as they move through a very sexualized world.

97. Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe A graphic memoir about author Kobabe's growing from adolescence to adulthood, as e explores eir gender identity and sexuality. Features a gender queer and asexual main character that uses e/eir pronouns.

98. Ace Voices What it Means to Be Asexual, Aromantic, Demi or Grey-Ace by Eris Young This is the ace community in their own words. Drawing upon interviews with a wide range of people across the asexual spectrum, Eris Young is here to take you on an empowering, enriching journey through the rich multitudes of asexual life.

99. I Am Ace: Adice on Living Your Best Asexual Life by Cody Daigle-Orians Tackling everything from what asexuality is, the asexual spectrum and tips on coming out, to intimacy, relationships, acephobia and finding joy, this guide will help you better understand your asexual identity alongside deeply relatable anecdotes drawn from Cody's personal experience.

100. Sounds Fake But Okay: An Asexual and Aromantic Perspective on Love, Relationships, Sex, and Pretty Much Anything Else by Sarah Costello and Kayla Kaszyca Drawing on their personal stories, and those of aspec friends all over the world, prepare to explore your microlabels, investigate different models of partnership, delve into the intersection of gender norms and compulsory sexuality and reconsider the meaning of sex - when allosexual attraction is out of the equation.

I haven't read all of these books, so I can't guarantee all of them. But I did my best researching all of them. I was making this list on my own and I was amazed that I could find over 100 books with asexual characters and I wanted to share it!

The Aromantic Book List is now out!

Tagging some people who were excited about this list: @sweetspiderstew @majorgenerally @shayberri789 @53rdcenturyhero @knightoflodis @neonghost39 @rosaazulina

[fanaticsnail]

Love you, Doc

Hey Doc Masterlist

Word Count: 4,400

Synopsis: Eustass Kid has come down with the non-life threatening ailment known as "the common cold." It is your job to care for him, no matter who orders you to do so.

Themes: Kid Pirates x gn!reader, platonic fic, you are the doctor of the Kid Pirates, you have been injured in the leg a few chapters ago by a person from your past, platonic love confessions, swearing, cuddling, Kid is sick, teasing, aged wound care, remedial massage, medicine taking, platonic kisses, swearing.

Notes: Shout out to @thenotsofantasticlifestory for being an absolute darling, listening to my rambles, and steering me into the right direction. Love you lots, Sto.

“Hey Doc,” a flash of a high, blonde ponytail flicks through the threshold from the doorframe, “You busy?” Placing down your medical journal you ordered, authored by a traveling doctor stationed on Drum Island, you turn towards Hop and offer her a two finger salute.

“Not if something’s broken, bleeding, or on fire,” you shrug nonchalantly while giving her a once over with your pointed gaze, “Didn’t go too hard sparring with Hip again, did you? Nothing sprained?” 

“No, no, nothin’ like that! I, uh-...” she trailed off, clutching the back of her neck while avoiding your gaze. Furrowing your brows, you turn your body fully towards her while remaining seated on your rotating swivel chair. 

“Spit it out, Hop. What do you need?” While your question was more tonally a statement punctuating your order, you still assumed your position of duty of care for your crew. She slouched her shoulders, hanging her head and gesturing a single pointed finger out to the side. 

“Cap’n needs you,” she whispered, barely audible. Feeling a little proud for a moment, you lean forward and raise your hand up to cup the shell of your left ear. 

“What was that, sweetheart? Come again?” you offer with a cocky smirk. The tall, blonde pouts while sucking in a large breath through her nose. Arching her back to full stature, she points more firmly in the direction of Kid’s quarters with her lips curled back in a soft snarl.

“The captain needs you, or,” she removes her hand from its outstretched position and crosses her arms over her chest, “Technically speaking: Heat told me to tell you that, Wire told him that he overheard Killer having an argument with the Captain about needing medical attention. Satisfied?” She offered the last part with a huffy taunt, prompting you to grin back at her. 

“Not for years,” you tease her, gesturing for her to come a little closer to your position sitting at your desk, “Come on, help me up. Leg’s still not the same since the spear incident.” You place down the book and 

Rolling her eyes, she casually strolled over towards you and wove herself beneath your arm. With one hand around your waist, the other clutching your wrist, she raised you to your feet and prompted you to let out a soft hiss at the impact of the elevation. The injury to your leg had only begun to crust over, the ooze from the coarse platelets itching at the skin. Bandages only did so much to ease the pressure from the wounds to the muscles, but you tried your best to push it aside to tend to the needs of your captain and your crew.

“Ah, shit,” you laughed through the pain, feeling the prickle of pins and needles pooling to your foot after having your leg elevated for so long beneath the desk. Hop chuckled along with you, giving your hip a gentle pinch while aiding you to stand properly. Without even finding the need to open your mouth, she wordlessly handed you the cane Kid fashioned for you to balance on. 

“Thanks, Hop,” you offered her a half-smile, removing yourself from her grip and looking to your desk. Scrunching up your nose briefly, you arch your brow up at her. 

“Did Wire tell Heat to tell you what type of medical attention he overheard the captain arguing with Killer about?” you offer her a sly smile, reaching for your satchel below your drawers, “Or am I going into this blind like the Reck incident a couple months ago?” 

“Honestly, I have no idea. Heat told me nothing,” she overemphasized her words by swiping her right hand in front of her chest. You shook your head, snorting out a soft laugh while throwing the loop of your satchel over your shoulder. 

Taking a moment to pause, you took a quick glance back at the medical journal and rolled over in your mind the last chapter of wound care and advanced treatment. Internally arguing with yourself for under a second, you decided to take a vial of oil extract from a medicinal plant to promote healing treatment for aged wounds and scars. If your captain was down with something, he might be more pliant in allowing you to experiment with your newfound knowledge. If not, there was always Killer who would always allow you a go at him with medicinal practicing.

“Alright,” you give her a soft nod, “Thanks again, Hop. I’ll go see to him now. Go back to whatever you were doing, or hide here to avoid duties. I don’t mind, just don’t touch the instruments.”

“Aye, Doc,” she offered you a soft salute, plopping herself down on your elevated bay bed and flicking through one of your medical magazines. You chuckle at her, shaking your head at the ease she made herself at home in your office, before hobbling your way down the hallway towards the steps up to Kid’s quarters. 

Slowly bracing yourself on the wooden wall, you took your time walking up the steps to not overdo your injury. While the Kid Pirates were more inclined to ignore the roaring ache you felt lingering beneath your skin, you wanted this to heal properly: taking your own advice, no matter how much you fought the urge not to. The Captain and the three commanders worked hard to save your leg, especially Heat, and you didn’t want to do wrong by them by having to lose it if you didn’t care enough for yourself. 

As soon as you made it up the last step, you heard a large rukkus and commotion from behind the door. Elevated voices, spluttered coughs, and mucusy sniffles ricocheted through the wooden walls and down the lengthy corridor. 

“I don't-,” the voice of your captain crackled, his usual tone more nasally than his usual cadence, “-And then I-!”

“-Get them, I swear, Captain. Doc needs to come and see you,” Killer’s soothing tone was more harsh than it usually was. It was unlike Kid and Killer to be fighting like this, especially for so long given the time it took to communicate it back to you. 

Exhaling more than what you had prepared for yourself, you hang your head while mentally preparing to deliver him his treatment of choice. Considering it was not that long ago that you, yourself, had suffered with this sort of affliction, you knew you would be able to endure being in the same room as your captain without much risk to yourself. Killer wore a mask, likely shielding him from catching the most of the illness, much to your joy. 

This could only mean one thing, and one thing only. Eustass “Captain” Kid had the non-life-threatening ailment known as: the common cold. 

With a lengthy inhale, you straightened your spine and rolled your neck around on your shoulders. With several pops of bone and muscle, you shrugged off the last of your inhibitions and readied yourself for an afternoon of treating your captain of his illness. Thanking your prior preparation of including several bottles of various tonics and honeyed anti-inflammatories, you brought your knuckles to the door and rapped on the wooden surface. 

You couldn't fight back the smile that rose upon hearing a repetition of “Please be Doc, please be Doc, please be Doc,” from the blonde first-mate. The door creaked open in a harsh tug, halting at three inches as the blue and white mask of Killer peeked through the small crack. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Killer exhaled, his shoulders falling in a large slouch, “Please, in. In, in, in,” he ushered you inside Kid’s quarters with a hand floundering on your shoulders. You grimaced as you balanced out your weight on your injured leg, hobbling to adjust to a comfortable stature. Killer took a minute to insure you were safely tucked inside Kid's quarters before using a spurt of energy to flee from the room with a sheepish air to his actions. 

“He's all yours, Doc,” the jovial, teasing tone of the first mate cut through the air and prompted you to almost growl as Killer closed the door behind himself. Staring at the chipped paint of the wooden door, you heard a spluttering cough from the corner of your captain's quarters. Far away from the coziness of his bed, you turned to view the hulking figure of your captain hunched over his desk, his shoulders donning his large duvet as he scratched etchings onto a blank sheet of pressed paper. 

“Captain?” you slowly asked, turning away from the door and stepping towards his desk, “Captain, are you alright?” 

“Go away,” the nasally voice growled from beneath the shroud. His right arm continued to roll the utensils within his digits and scratch inked blots into the pages. “M’working. Go do doctor things, Doc. Find someone else to torment.” 

Rolling your eyes, you saunter over to the desk and peer over his shoulder. The page was littered with sharp lines of various sizes, neat notations within the marines depicting metallic elements on the periodic table, and heat temperatures for soldering purposes. You shake your head and slowly reach over your captain's shoulders, perching your hands over the duvet and giving the taut muscles a gentle squeeze. 

“I am not here to torment you, Cap,” you confess to him, tugging at his shoulders until his broad torso slunk against your chest. He pressed his head back against your chest, slowly leaning to the side and peering from the corner of his eye up at you. “I'm here to look after you.” You smile sweetly down at him, reaching up and smoothing your digits over his fluffy red hair. 

Eustass Kid’s bottom lip protruded, his eyelids swollen and puffy, and nostrils peeling skin from the swollen corners of his nose. His eyes began to water as he sniffed back another blocked rumble of air through what could manage to pass through his nose. 

“Do you want me to look after you, Captain?” you ask, truthfully knowing the answer he was desperately pleading with his eyes, but wanting him to speak it anyway. Taking a deep inhale through his raspy, crackling throat, Eustass Kid brayed out his answer in a forlorn whine. 

“Ye-es,” he wailed, leaning fully into your arms and closing his eyes. “I can't breathe, my mind is foggy, I can't lay down without my fuckin’ nose dripping all over the place, and I can't fuckin’ sleep while that's the only thing I really want to do. I haven't slept in three fuckin’ days.” The floodgates of Eustass Kid’s needs were broken like a dam, each word rolling over the other as you ushered him over to his large bed. Gently prying his duvet from his shoulders, you guided him to his bed while he continued to whine hoarsely. 

“My throat feels like I've swallowed glass, my eyes won't stop leaking, my ears keep popping and crackling, and there's this infernal ringing going on like a mosquito is trapped in my eardrum.” You ushered him to sit on his bed, propping him into a reclined position with his right arm propped over his stomach with a pillow beneath it, and his left stump elevated. Finding more pillows in his personal linen cupboard, you stuffed a few more up to hold him comfortably upright before tucking the duvet over his waist. 

“Sounds like you've got it bad, Cap,” you nodded sympathetically, locating your bag and popping the seal, “Tinnitus in which ear, hm? Left or right?” 

“Left, I think. It's like a buzz at this stage, don't pay it any mind,” he nodded, feeling the weight of his eyes falling like anchors over his glassy orbs. “What's really fuckin’ bad is my arm. It feels like it's still there, and it's like fire in my skin,” he looked down at his missing left arm with pain written on his features, “I can feel my hand gripping hard, like I can't let go of something important. S’always shit when I get sick, and this time it's just tauntin’ me.” 

You sigh empathetically, looking briefly down at your still healing leg before you continued to ready a cocktail of medication for your captain. Antibiotics, probiotics, pain relief, blood thinners, muscle relaxants, and sleep aid was calculated and lumped in according to his height to weight distribution, and adjusted for more comfort to his high pain tolerance. Usually, you would make fun of him for acting like this, but this vulnerability had you feeling closer to your captain than ever. You hastily clutched the vial you packed into your satchel within your palm before walking with your knees towards the reclined posture of the large red-head. 

“Take these with some water. I know it's shit, and it'll hurt your throat, but I'll get Killer to make you some lemon and honey tea to aid with the sting,” you nodded, reaching up your hand to his lips and popping the assortment of pills within his painted lips. Watching as he held them in his mouth briefly, you reached the top of his drawers for the glass of water you knew Killer put there a few hours ago and drew it up to Kid’s lips. He eagerly gulped down the contents, wincing at the hard pills lodging in his raw throat, before swallowing them down obediently. 

“You'll start to feel better in about ten minutes,” you nod to him, placing the water glass on the bench top beside the bed, “And while we wait, I'm going to see what I can do about your arm.” Reaching into your pocket, you uncorked the vial and poured a generous amount of oiled liquid into the center of your palm. Rolling your hands together, you warmed the liquid with the heat of your skin before drawing it towards the scarred left arm of your captain. 

“Keen for me to experiment a bit with your skin?” you quirked at him, hovering above and awaiting consent from the hulking figure of your captain. 

“You said you're gonna take care o’ me,” he grumbled, huffing and pouting like a petulant child, “So hurry up and do it already. I fuckin’ hate feeling like this, and I just-... I just-...” His eyes welled up, prompting him to turn to the side and hide his face from you, “...I just don't want to be in charge anymore. I can't be in charge anymore. I feel like absolute dog shit, and I just-... I need help sometimes.” He turned his orange eyes up at you, begging within his rounded orbs, “Please, Doc? Just make it stop? Please?”

Immediately pressing your hands to his arm, you give his muscles a constricting grip and roll the flesh beneath your digits. 

“Tense up with me,” you order him, squeezing his bicep with the intentional strength in a few key areas, “And then release.” You relaxed your grip on his arm, holding the grip over his flesh and thumbing along the veins. As he tensed his muscle, you tighten your grip, “Now hold it,” you nod, your hands shuddering beneath your strength, “And release.” 

You coached him through this method a few more times, rolling his skin between your hands and feeling the ripped and repaired muscles beneath his skin. Moving up your eyes, you focus on Eustass Kid’s face as it contorted in agony. The way he sucked in his lips and grit his teeth matched the telltale signs of him trying not to cry. 

Only ever seeing this expression on him once before, you decided to use a different method of care. 

“Doing so well, sweetheart,” you bore your fingers into his solid flesh, coating each morsel with the oil and sculpting his pain away with circular motions, “You are so brave, Kid. You bare the weight of our large crew, you have done so much for everyone. Captain I-.” Your words caught in your throat, feeling the tension in his muscles pull taught as you held firmly against his arm. 

“Say it. Whatever it is. Please, Doc,” Kid nodded, fighting back through the pain and urging you along. While the two of you were distracted by focussing attention on Eustass Kid’s pain, you remained ignorant of the door opening and closing behind the blonde-haired first mate reentering the room. 

You inhaled a deep breath, humbling yourself and giving him something truthful to focus on rather than gritting his teeth through the praise he often craved. 

“Captain, I'm proud to serve under you,” you utter to him, gently rolling your digits over the base of his healed scarring. Thumbing over the stump, you focus your eyes on his flesh, “We are all proud of you. I-...” You halted your motion, closing your eyes and lighting up your soft smile on your lips, “...I have loved every minute of serving you as your doctor, regardless of what I say most of the time. I love you, Captain.” 

Looking at the mess of oozing oils over his skin, you feel his right hand gently reach up to clasp your forearm. 

As Kid made to open his lips, using his words to mirror your admiration back at you, his mind did not match what curled on his tongue. 

“Hah! You love me? Pfft, what a fuckin’ softie, Doc,” he slunk back against the pillows once more, his eyelids growing heavy and weighted beneath the growing intensity of the medication. “You're a little shit most of the time. A real pain in my ass, and you ruin a lot of my projects and fun by banning them. Shoulda kicked you off the crew years ago.” 

Your jaw slackened, eyes widening as your brows furrowed beneath the weight of his words. Just as you were about to bark back a witty retort of your own, he silenced you by lazily rolling your name over his palate. 

“But I fuckin’ love you,” he confessed in a breathy tone, a dopey smile tugging up his face, “Take’n such good care o’ us. Keepin’ me in line when I start with the bullshit. Always bein’ nice, in your own sadistic way.” He gave your hand two warm taps before the medication pulled him down in a warm recline. 

“I love you so damn much, Doc. I need you to know that,” his tone grew slower, his yawn tugging his lips up and his voice muffled beneath the wide inhale, “I love you.” His head lulled to the side, his lips parting as sleep finally caught up with him. His breaths came out in rattled breaths, saliva mixing with mucussy underlay of his firey illness. 

“And just like that, you're out like a light,” you chuckle to yourself, cradling his left bicep and laying it down beside him. Gently tucking in his duvet over his broad torso, alongside removing the pillow from his stomach, you smooth over the plush material and secure the captain beneath the shroud. Giving a brief pause, your eyes raked over his face and noticed his breathing was relaxing with each inhale. 

“Rest well, sir,” you nodded, slowly inching yourself off the bed and wincing through the shooting pain up your leg. Just as you rose to stand at your feet, a slow drawl crooned from the corner of the room. 

“What? No kiss for your captain, Doc?” Killer teased you, finally making his presence known as you hobbled away from the captain’s bedside. “No little stroke on the forehead after the professions of love? Not even a gentle cup of his clammy, sick cheek?” 

If your scowl had the ability to sear through metal and bone, the look that bloomed in your eyes would've sent Killer to his grave. 

“Caressing and kissing my unconscious crewmates is not my forte,” you spat in return, upturning your lip and snarling at the blonde. He was taken aback by your menacing altitude, raising his hands at his sides while he shook his head softly side to side. 

“I meant no disrespect, Doc,” he lowered his head and stooped to your height, “I was just playing, as we always do. Are-... Are you alright-?”

“-No, I'm not,” you growl in return, reaching for the cane and propping yourself up with it. “I had to hear from Hop that Heat told her, that Wire told him, that he overheard you telling the captain to ask for medical attention from me.” You leaned on your cane, feeling your hand shake under the weight of your body. “Do you know how fucking ridiculous that is, Kil? How fucking stupid that is? How worthless that makes me f-feel?” You choked on the last few syllables, feeling the well of emotions finally simmer in your chest and rise in your throat. 

“Hearing Kid, joking or not, say he wanted to kick me off this crew while I'm treating him?” you fought back your tears, finally succumbing to the emotion and having the liquid sear down your cheeks and drop onto the floor. “I can take a lot of shit, Kil. But this? This? This fucking took the cake.” 

The noise from your deep confession managed to stir Kid from his medicated slumber, his body fighting the sleep in a bid to remain awake for your words. He heard every lick falling from your snarling lips, every passionate exclaim causing him to slink back down and listen intently. 

“And when I tell someone I love them? Platonic or not, I don't enjoy being laughed at, or made fun of when I say somethin’ fuckin’ stupid like that,” your eyes drew to Killer's mask as you bore your soul to him, unaware of Kid attempting to sit up in his bed further. “When I-!”

“-Get over here, both o’ you,” Kid interjected, causing both Killer and you to snap your attention over to the captain reclining on his bed. 

“Captain, I-,” you began, prompting Kid’s raspy growl to drown out your repose. 

“-I don't wanna fuckin’ hear it,” his left arm wobbled, patting the pillow in a bid to call you over further, “I'm not tellin’ ya’ both again. Get the fuck over here, now. You too, you big asshole.” 

Killer rolled his shoulders back, his muscles and bones clicking as he kicks off his boots and saunters over to you. Without giving you a moment to reject his order, Killer hoisted you up and slammed your back gently on the large bed beside your captain. Nestling you within the crook of his left arm, he tugged you closer into his embrace, cradling you against his chest, while Killer moved to Kid’s righthand side. 

“Now, you little shit,” Kid growled playfully into your ear, “You're gonna fuckin’ sleep, I'm gonna fuckin’ sleep, and Kil? You're gonna fuckin’ sleep. We're all sleepin’, ya hear?”

“Cap’n, I need to tell Wire that he's in charge-,” Killer attempted to convey, hushed by Kid harshly tugging him into his chest and locking him against his body. 

“-And I don't fuckin’ care. You're cranky as all hell, and Doc is too, ain't ya?” he chuckled down into the crown of your head, stroking it with his cheek, “Now you're both gonna sleep. I don't care how long you sleep for, but you're gonna sleep.” 

“Cap, I-,” you try him, prompting Kid to bark down at you in response. 

“-I don't fuckin' care. Go to sleep, so-...” he took a moment to yawn, his voice groaning at the back of his raw throat, “...-so I can sleep. You're both loud, and I need the people I love close to me. So shut up, and be close to me.”

He turned his face towards Killer, puckering his lips and pressing them against the top of his mask. Emphasising his kiss, he moans an overenthusiastic hum against the cool metal. 

“Mmm-ah,” he releases Killer’s mask from his lips, laughing as he watches the first mate gently punch his arm. “Night, Kil. Enjoy your snooze.” Kid then turns to you, using the stump of his arm to coax you towards his lips. 

Gently fighting yourself away from the captain's affection, he wins by pressing his lips to your forehead and offering the same exaggerated moan. 

“Mmm-ah,” his grin splits up his cheeks as he watches you becoming visually flustered by his actions. “Night, Doc. Sleep tight.” Kid rolls into his back, holding both you and Killer tucked tight into his armpits and sighs a raspy breath of glee. 

“Love you, Kil. Love you, Doc,” he smiled, closing his eyes and truly basking in his two crewmates offering him comfort. He felt Killer adjust himself to make his mask comfortable above his cheek, nestling against the redhead's side. You do the same, giving up on the notion of fleeing from the captain's embrace and drawing your own comfort within his bicep. 

“Love you too, Cap,” both you and Killer whisper in unison, feeling the call of slumber sing it's sweet song under the comfort of Kid’s warm embrace. 

It wasn't an unheard of thing, sleeping beside your crewmates and offering them comfort. Bubblegum often came to either you or Killer when he needed that extra care, and you would always give in when he needed that softness from you. 

But this felt different. 

The soft, likely cold medication-induced love professions after a hard cry with one another made you, yourself, vulnerable to this embrace. Your care for Kid and your crew, the love you all share unlike anything you had ever encountered before. Feeling raw, you draw your hand over Kid’s waist and tuck your face against his chest. As you felt yourself well up once more, a hand came up and cloaked your own beneath its warmrh. Slowly peaking from the corner of your eye up, you notice Killer's hand covering your own and thumbing over your knuckles. 

“Love you, Doc,” he whispered over Kid’s heavy breathing, giving your digits a gentle squeeze, “I mean it, and so does he. We all love you. You're perfect for our crew, and Kid has never wanted to ever kick you off. He was just sayin’ it to-.”

“-I love you too, Kil,” you whisper in return, gently rolling your hand up and squeezing his palm, “And I know. I was just being silly, and a little bit vulnerable after the injury. I know, okay?” You shifted closer to Kid, adjusting so you were comfortable and offering Killer one final quip before your eyes weighed beneath the call of sleep took you. 

“Now do as your told, and fuckin’ sleep would you.”

“You too, Doc.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @nerium-lil @sinning-23

[lialacleaf]

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 1

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not... Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Simon's POV

A fear tactic. That's what Johnny called it. The infamous Ghost. The Reaper of The Night. The man, myth, and legend that was coming to act as a vengeful reaper and mercilessly take the lives of those who got in his way.

His reputation preceded him. A reputation he never intended to have. The point was never to be something for others to fear. A Ghost couldn't be seen. A Ghost couldn't be touched. Most importantly, a Ghost couldn't be hurt. Simon was safe if he was dead.

Until he wasn't.

You were just some stupid rooky who joined the army so they'd pay for your college tuition. You had the same sob story most people did. No money, no marital prospects, and not enough education to obtain a job that would sustain you in a struggling economy. No one was coming to save you, so you made a decision to save yourself.

"Mom and Dad were barely making things work financially, I couldn't be a burden anymore," you explained once as you sat next to Soap in the helicopter, your head barely reaching the shoulders of the men and women you were seated around.

It made Ghost's stomach drop, no, Simon's stomach. You were fragile and had no business having that battle rifle in your small, soft hands. People like you were supposed to have options. At least Simon believed so.

How was he supposed to give you orders as if he didn't know you had a higher chance of not making it back? He just wanted to leave you on base, wrapped up in bubble wrap for good measure. When he looked into your eyes there was still a softness there, a feminine light that hadn't been beaten out of you just yet. The idea of seeing it vanish terrified him. It made his chest ache.

You didn't need to know that however, and as far as anyone knew, Lieutenant Ghost despised you. He told you to secure the landing zone for when they got back or left you behind to keep watch on every mission possible. You were convinced the large, masked man saw you as a disgrace to the 141 and was embarrassed to have such a small fry on his team. At least that was the gossip you picked up here and there. He didn't want you to see any action, that much was clear.

"You're up late."

Simon glanced in your direction as he stirred the honey in his tea, his grip on the chipped mug, the porcelain stained on the inside from many years of holding hot coffee, tightening ever so slightly. You were seated in one of the kitchen chairs, legs folded in on yourself as you sipped at your own steaming mug.

He didn't respond and went about dumping his tea bag in the wastebasket. He needed to not look at you in your soft leggings that hugged your figure with that baggy 141 sweatshirt that despite being a size small was still too big for you. You'd be swallowed whole in his clothes, and that was a sight that a very primal part of his brain wanted to see.

There was something about you being so delicate that made him want to press his lips against the curve of your jaw and tell Price to go to hell for not assigning you more office work instead of sending you out with his men.

He had to keep his mind in his upstairs brain, however, lest he risk your life and others in the field. He wouldn't be responsible for you getting hurt.

"I'm sorry," you said all of a sudden.

"What for?" he didn't look up from his mug as he took a sip.

"For being...being a liability that you have to plan for."

He let out a tired sigh. "What happened to going to college?" he disregarded your apology.

"What?"

"Heard you tell Soap you joined the army so you could get into college, that clearly never happened."

You coughed awkwardly. "I got a little lost along the way." You didn't know what to study. Didn't know where to apply. Didn't know what you really wanted out of it other than a career that would make you money. "The 141 offered me a good salary, no need to waste tax dollars on a degree I wouldn't even know what to do with."

You shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing. You should have someone taking care of all of that so you could read books, go on walks, and grow a garden. You didn't seem like the type who worked because they wanted to, you did it because you had to.

The part of Simon that had watched his mother go to work grueling hours at the local diner just to support his father's addictions hated that. The part of him that had watched her slowly lose her feminine glow and replace it with withered steel to accommodate the survival of herself and her boys stung. He wasn't supposed to feel this hurt. He was supposed to be a Ghost. But the overwhelming urge to care for you was making that difficult.

He set his tea down on the counter and let out a huff as he approached you. Your hair was wet, and you had clearly just come from the shower. He suspected you showered later to avoid the others, specifically the men.

And boy did that thought have him grinding his teeth. If you were his woman, you'd be using his own private quarters to clean up. No prying eyes, not even his own.

"What would you have done if none of that was of any concern?" he asked, and you let out a soft little laugh.

"You'd have me anywhere but here, huh?" you said with a raised brow.

Simon tilted his masked face downward to pin you with a stare that made you swallow thickly, brown eyes boring into your own.

He'd have you dolled up in his cabin back home doing whatever the hell you pleased, painting pretty pictures, baking sweet bread, he bet you would like riding horses too.

"I'd have you safe, y/n."

He didn't say another word to you as he turned around, picked up his mug, and left you to watch him go with wide eyes.

~

He didn't want to take you on the mission, but Price said they needed someone small enough to sneak in through the warehouse's ventilation system and gather intel.

Price told him not to worry, and that you were a clever girl. That didn't ease his mind in the slightest. He had the scope of his sniper trained on the building, watching for any alarming movement.

"Confirmed intel on the location of the arms dealer and their client, ready to regroup, L.T.?" you whispered into your radio.

"Affirmative, meet us at evac," he replied, motioning for Soap to follow him. The other soldiers under his command had been circling the warehouse from a distance, looking for any sign of trouble. He had just about allowed his shoulders to relax when the alarms started.

Ghost whipped his head around as a slew of curses left Soap's lips. "What'd the little lass do now?" he muttered, but Ghost didn't hear him, having already taken off towards the warehouse.

He was already planning how he was going to chew you out for not being careful enough when he saw trucks approaching in the distance. It wasn't you that set the alarms off, it was some rag-tag terrorist group on their way to rob the warehouse. And you were going to be right in the middle of it.

"L/N! What's your status?" he demanded over the radio. His men were already being pulled into the firefight. It wasn't until he was nearing the warehouse that he finally had eyes on you, your small form crouched behind a stack of crates.

"L/N, Move!" he shouted, providing you with enough cover to make a run for the evac. He watched as you took off, running as fast as your small legs could carry you. He was so distracted with you that the sting of the bullet in his shoulder came as a shock.

Seconds later he was knocked to the ground, by a kick to the back of his leg, and a strained grunt left his chest. His head snapped up as his attacker stood above him, prepared to finish him off with a bullet between his eyes.

But then he stopped, and Ghost's eyes narrowed at the sound of running feet slamming against the ground. He felt his heart sink watching you throw yourself at his attacker, knife in hand.

No. It wasn’t going to work. He was bigger than you, and you didn't have a clue what you were doing. You were going to die for him. Because of him. He'd never hated himself more.

He had to watch the man rip the knife from your hand and drive it into your knee, his anger boiling over as his attacker pushed you away as if you were as threatening as a sunflower stalk.

You fell to the ground in a sobbing heap, and that sound alone had Simon reaching for the man's sidearm despite the pain in his shoulder. There was a bullet in his throat before he even noticed that the Lieutenant was no longer lying flat on his back.

"L.T.? Where are you? Evac is here?" Soap's voice chimed over the radio, but Ghost ignored him as he hefted your small form into his arms.

"Shh shh, hold on f' me now. Done so good so far. Gotta finish the mission," he murmured as he squeezed you against his chest. "M' not leavin' you here," he promised, trudging towards the evac site.

"L.T.?" Soap tried once again, but Ghost didn't answer. It was too much to think, too much to hit the button on his radio as he tried to hold you in a manner that wouldn't make you cry out in pain.

"Almost there, love."

AN: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! Next chapter will be in Reader's POV!

[akunoniwa]

Doctor's Note

Synopsis: In which you get diagnosed and treated by your local Dr. Demon

Pairing: Gaap (Ars Goetia) x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, essentially just... demon fucking...

WC: ~4.5k

He’d already know your body too well, exactly where to touch and how, seeing as he’s a seasoned doctor. It didn’t matter that you’d only visited him just this once, he knew exactly what ailed you. 

An excuse.

You’d read all about him, as you’d heard he takes phenomenal care of his patients, but an unusual sense of pride kept you from submitting to your curiosity. Until now.

“It’s strange…” He began, his voice buoyant despite its density. He’d done all of the typical procedures, asking about your medical history, taking your blood pressure, but he feigned ignorance of your real intent. He wanted to entertain your coyness, as it’s nothing new… But you seemed particularly delectable, as he recognized you’re not one easily swayed.

His wanting to change the subject naturally had you alert, waiting for him to continue with suspended brows.

“You’d made this appointment with an air of reasoning as if I’d find something wrong?” His eyes did not raise, as his gaze was focused on his pen lacing ink into quick, ornate letters on the report. The sound of the dextrous and hasty ballpoint imprinting strings of words onto the page somehow spoke of his personality to you… It was oddly fascinating to watch.

You were skeptical of this remark, as you’d made no obvious note of this being your motive, it’s merely a regular physical, “I just haven’t been keeping up with my health, and you were recommended to me…”

He gently huffed out what almost seemed to be a smug scoff, setting his clipboard on the counter behind him. You still sat propped up on the observation table, feeling almost infantilized by the way your feet barely reached the step-down.

“There’s just one last step, I need to check your lungs and heart…” You noted that he didn’t keep the stethoscope around his neck but rather it was hung on the wall. 

Within your reading up on him, you were quickly put on to why he was so ‘renowned’. Yes, he was genuinely an accomplished scholar, particularly in women’s health, but… Men and women alike would rave about how he’d ‘take care of them’ like no one else… You couldn’t snuff these thoughts out as he neared you from the side.

“If I may pry, who recommended me?” He hesitated to place the diaphragm against you. You felt disgusted by the way you were becoming increasingly aware of his proximity. 

“Just a coworker, we were chatting about how negligent I am when it comes to my doctor visits… I know I need to pay more attention.” You gave an earnest response, trying to dilute any suggestive thoughts, though they were growing unbearably potent.

He hummed in acknowledgment with a considering pout, carrying on with checking your upper back, the cold of the bell piece cutting through your blouse, “Deep breath in…” He guided, almost lifting you with his voice

“And despite having a previous physician, you chose me?” He paused, “Breathe out.” He repositioned the diaphragm slowly against your back. He noticed your breath was tense instantly, trying to stifle any satisfaction in this. Your heart rate undeniably went up as he neared questionable territory with his interrogating.

“I was intrigued, my last doctor was not the most compassionate.” Your reasoning was quick, perhaps justified, but he liked the way your breath hitched as he moved around your back.

“One last breath in…” His voice rose as if he was holding the same breath, “And out.”

He rounded to your front, standing before you, “Just breathe as you normally would here.” He placed the piece in the center of your chest as you tried to avoid looking directly at his face. He was so close, you were in his sphere of scent, a delicately botanic, smoky kind.

“I said to breathe normally.” He asserted again with a small grin, “You just cannot seem to relax…”

“A doctor’s office isn’t particularly comforting.” Your eyes shot as far away from seeing his expression as possible, your cheeks tarnished with faint embarrassment.

“Is that what it is? Your blood pressure was entirely normal earlier… Perhaps there is something amiss with you…” His words dragged and coiled around you, reminiscent of his handwriting, aptly stringing you along.

You’ve been caught, pressing your lips together in a bashful attempt to not say something ridiculous, “And what might that be.” You maintained a level tone as best as you could.

He still held the scope in place, enjoying how you writhed, your breaths smaller, not so much frantic, but unsteady. He was surely staring at your face from his elevated angle, you could feel his gaze on you as if you were an ant under a magnifying glass.

His prior facade of professionalism dropped elegantly like a theater curtain, heavy as he leaned into you, his lips inches from your ear, “You know exactly why you came here, how long would you like to continue rehearsing this scene?”

Your frenzied heart rate was enough to drive him wild, but he knew how to keep tempo.

“... I…,” You were at a loss, not wanting to hear much more of your meek voice. His heat radiated over your whole body, voice seeping into you.

“I’ll show you compassion just this once,” His words were bowed with an audible grin, “Only if you can report to me what exactly brought you here. Truly.” He finally hung the scope to idle around his neck, wanting to hear your every syllable, even if they wavered.

Your words certainly didn’t come easily, “I was curious why you’d received such appraise… And I wanted to find out for myself.”

“You know what I am and what I do, and still sit here as if I have to evaluate you to find out your pitiful deficiencies.” You hadn’t noticed your legs instinctually parted to allow him closer, “You want me to assess your body, in more ways than one.”

“Is this not malpractice, you acting this way, doctor?” Your voice had surely withered under the weight of anticipation.

He was more moved by your calling him ‘doctor’ than he should have been, as it’s something he hears all the time… Your voice, strained and borderline needy, rearranged the word in his mind, “I’ll give you any version of malpractice you prefer, darling.” He finally distanced his face to align with yours, seeing your slipping guise from inches away.

“What would you prescribe to someone with my so-called pitiful deficiencies?” You playfully continued the bit, you both intertwined in the teasing like strands of a rope.

“Hmm… I may need a closer look, after all, just to ensure… May I?” You were caught off guard by his genuine concern about touching you.

“I can’t just go home untreated, can I? Whatever you need to do to cure me of these deficiencies, please…” You realized you’d properly left your decency and pride tied to a light post outside of the clinic.

He took in a breath himself, overwhelmed by your eager presence… No demon should have this much power without checks and balances… He salivated at the thought of ravaging you, tipped by your trailed ‘please’.

His hand, gloved in blue latex, rose to rest against your cheek as he showed you a doting look, “Stand up for me…”

You managed to still have a tinge of reservation, hesitating for barely a second. But, you both knew why you were here, there were no secrets to hang onto. You obliged as his hand fell, he stepped back allowing you some room. You had to admit, you were susceptible to his towering height as he scanned over you, somehow the silence served more to tension than awkwardness.

“To ascertain accurate results… These lovely clothes just won’t do, I regret to say…” He continued his character pretending to be upset by this. He stepped into you once again, an index finger pulling at your belt to undo the buckle, snaking it off of you through the loops. Even the mere sensation of this in tandem with your anticipation was starting to gnaw at you.

Along with the stethoscope, he hung your belt around his neck, “Perhaps this could be useful… Go ahead and strip for me darling, this could serve my research well.”

You committed to this energy, removing everything that clouded your bare form as he watched, head cocked observingly as he leaned back against the counter. Only the sound of clothes slipping against skin flooded the space. His eyes swayed and lingered over every detail, his hands anchored to the counter’s edge at either side of him, looking nonchalantly imposing.

“Any prognosis?” You called to him as he had to tear his eyes from your body.

“Oh, it’s severe, seeing as you just willingly stripped naked for someone of my ilk.” He closed in on you again, unable to resist playing with you.

His rubbery hands reached to entrap you, starting from your ribcage, thumbs briefly brushing over your nipples. He spared no specific attention to any one thing, sliding down over your waist, to your hips. He watched his hands as you watched his faded eyes, even his blinks were languid as he felt you observing him.

“Turn around.” It was an order, but his voice still floated above your head as you obeyed, turning in his grasp.

He hummed, pleased as his touch rose to your shoulders, then dragged torturously to your ass. Although you were not instructed, it felt as if you were once again holding onto a breath, releasing as composed as you could manage as his hands groped your flesh, “These are quite nice… Typically they look better in a red… Or maybe…” His words wandered off to somewhere unknown, a hand rising to push at your upper back, forcing you to bend forward.

“You’re very compliant, darling.” You felt an acidic wave of lust roll through you at his thoughtless praise.

By the silence, you judged he was certainly made aware of your most deficient parts, your cunt probably more obviously intrigued than anything else.

“Hmm… This is most likely where your problem lies…” A latex-clad finger made faint contact with your clit, causing your thighs to twitch at the attention, to which he chuckled through his nose, “Severe indeed.” His hand pushed you down further causing you to be on maximum display as his feather-light touch grazed up to find your glistening hole. You bit your lip, but harder on a groan you attempted to constrict.

“Don’t hold back, I need you to communicate with me so I can know what’s wrong.” You were still caught up by how nice his fanned hand forcing you down onto the observation table made you feel, let alone his meandering touch. You could envision how lewd it looked, the image making you falter.

His index finger still lingered around your hole in no particular manner, as if he was genuinely taking note of your anatomy, “Surely you’re aware… Typically when your cunt is this soaked…” His upper half leaned over your folded form, wringing you out with his heady demeanor, “It means you desire something desperately.”

Your head inadvertently raised to try and close any gap between you, craning up in aroused dejection. You could feel him pressed against you, he was undoubtedly having his fun.

“Does this align with your symptoms?” A hand wound under your left arm, snaking to wrap underneath your jaw, forcing you closer to his voice, “Tell me.”

“Yes, doctor.” You choked out, noticing his eyes bloom when you called him that earlier, you decided to use your own trump card.

He groaned above you, his voice blanketing you, “There’s only one thing I know of to treat cases like yours…” He pushed his hips ever so slightly into your backside causing your eyes to flicker, “But you self-diagnosed before you even came to my clinic… Dirty little thing.”

He lifted himself to straighten, “It’s phenomenal, this human form… But it seems you are more excited by my barbaric, obscene interior…” A pair of fingers played at your hole once again, barely pushing into you, “You can’t be satiated by just a human… You want something more. Something diabolic.” Slowly, his fingers progressed as he continued to whirl on, driving you mad with his words.

He could feel that you were clenching, smiling with amusement, “Is this true? You’d prefer to be fucked by a beast like myself?”

How you’d answer that outright, you were initially unsure, but his fingers curled down, adeptly pushing into a perfect spot, “I-I… Yes, I would.” You loved the idea of him fucking you with his latex gloves, something about how sterilizing and surgical it felt.

“You’d like that?” He pressed, establishing a crawling pace with his hand.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Your cunt is so hot and wet, darling, you may just melt these gloves off…” He mused, basking in your pleasure.

You couldn’t help but let your body sway into his fingers, meeting his pace. Your whole being was throbbing, letting your satisfaction leave you as pants. You were growing more desperate to cum, wanting to coat his fingers with your release, though he pulled his hand away.

“Stand and turn for me, darling,” You did so, though slowly so as to not underestimate your delirium, forced to make eyes with him as he tasted you, “Utterly divine, you taste so sweet…”

You couldn’t help but feel scorn towards him, being made to watch him clean your juices thoroughly from his fingers, “Jesus…” He looked gorgeous, just like that.

“Not quite.” He jested, his fingertips reaching to play at your bottom lip until you allowed access, taking his lithe fingers in your mouth. He watched you intently, beyond himself as it set in that such a pretty little human would stoop so eagerly down to his level.

He gradually pulled his hand away, watching the way your lips wrapped so nicely until the heat of your mouth was but a ghost. He painted a trail of your saliva down your chin, making a mess of you, “Your breasts are lovely too, I must say.” 

He stretched his gloves off, exposing skin with markings that resembled black, veiny cracks. You were not repulsed, quite the contrary, his skin looked like a glass mosaic, his bare hands cupping your breasts. Feeling the rough texture of his skin against yours only amplified his effect.

“Your reactions are too much for me, it’s making it hard for me to keep composure…” He played at your nipples between his thumb and index, making you squirm.

“I didn’t come here for your composure.” You placed your hands on his kintsugi skin, hoping to urge him on.

“I am… well aware, darling.” His hands left you, shouldering off his lab coat, setting your belt to still be within reach, “You’ll need to be fucked back into health.”

As he continued to remove his work attire, he continued to reveal his increasingly onyx skin, the closer to his chest, the more dense the black. It was incredible, you couldn’t help but gawk, to which he smirked almost sheepishly, “Why don’t you sit pretty for me back on the table…”

You were balancing on his every command at this point, loving the feeling that embraced your body in this moment. You hopped back up on the table to face him, spreading your legs to taunt him. He moved routinely to his lower half, adoring how you watched as his trousers fell for him to push aside along with his shoes. You wouldn’t say you were shocked, but his cock was surely not human, three knots that staggered in increasing size from his tip to the base. Immediately, the irresistible thought of him pushing you open, feeling those crevices move your insides… You didn’t think you could grow any wetter.

“I love that expression you’re wearing… The only thing I’ll allow.” His hand wrapped around himself, pumping his bulbous length. You had a paradoxically innocent urge to simply stroke him, of course never having seen this before. You felt sordid for being turned on at the sight of him touching himself right before you.

You took it upon yourself to let a hand find your clit, seeing if this would induce any reaction from him. It most certainly did, an inferno sparked in his chest, let alone his cock, as he watched you play with yourself so deviantly. He was debating… Should he keep dragging you around with his antics… Or are you in such a grave state that you must be cured right this instant? His own heart raved at the possibilities, mind flooded with a mirage of your pretty body doing such horrific things for him.

“What’s on your mind…?” He asked, his hand still cycling in a fluid motion in a stalemate.

“You.” You grinned, “What’s this cure you spoke of?”

Your being direct stoked him, causing him to chuckle deep from his chest, “I think I need to cure you until you’re properly bedridden, darling.”

You pushed your middle and ring finger into your beckoning cunt as you propped a leg up on the table, causing his eyes to immediately shoot to yours, almost in warning, “Please, doctor, I’m at your mercy.”

He let out an undeniable scoff this time, taking a few steps to near you as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away, “I fucking hate how you call me that.” He aligned the tip of his alien-looking cock with your hole, that being enough to send shockwaves through you, “Keep doing it.” 

He decided to channel his teasing into you, only pushing his girthy tip inside at a molasses pace, finally coaxing out the most beautiful sounds from you. You both had unanimous thoughts of how good the other felt, your pussy was impossibly soft and plush, his length surprisingly velvety as he angled himself to hit that same delicious spot. You felt your hole stretch around his first, modest knot as he’d continuously remove himself completely to shove himself back inside you.

“Do you think you need more? How do you feel, darling?” His hand gripped your thigh that still rested on the table, squeezing out your reply.

“It feels so good, doctor, but…”

He was awed by the fact you could still be embarrassed to express your needs, he found it almost endearing, “But…?” He pulled out to admire his tip glistening with your creamy slick, waiting for you.

He was going to make you say it, regardless. Even just the sight of his shaft that curved upward so enticingly made you quiver, “I need more.” God, you sounded so whiny and small.

His strong grip on your thigh was alarming, but not unexpected as his first knot slid in with ease once more, though the second demanded more of you. Paired with the stretch, he was starting to push fairly deep into you, finally starting to reorganize your insides as you imagined. You couldn’t tie down a labored ‘fuck’ as he began to thrust at a steady pace. Every time he pushed back into you, an indescribably foreign feeling of being perfectly spread by each knot exploded inside you. You decided to place your hands on his shoulders to keep balance as he hunched over your starved form.

Your moans were of a heavenly timbre he’d never know otherwise as he experimented with pace and angle to see which would make you sing. Your wetness coated the very beginning of his final, large knot as he thrust into you, but you couldn’t imagine it actually managing to fit. Because of its shape, his cock accentuated the squelches from your cunt, the crude sounds seeming to bounce off the walls.

He found another spot deep inside you, concocting a burn, itch, smolder… Every sensation was being triggered as he sheathed into you repeatedly, knowing he had found your sweetest spot, “You can’t even cry… How adorable…” His hand found your cheek once more as his eyes seemed to reach into you, cradling your gaze.

He wasn’t unfazed, in fact, your broken moans were like shards of glassy pleasure in his lower abdomen, he felt deific as he took you. And you took him so well… He’d almost plead to the gods himself if it meant that you’d clench onto him like this eternally. For a demon, he was quite considerate, as he’d never force you, but he wanted so desperately for you to absorb all he had, his final knot prodding at your cunt.

His hands slid to your knees, urging you to wrap your legs around his torso, lifting you as soon as you followed. Gravity lent itself to the intensity as you were slammed down onto him, his hands spread on either side of your ass. While you found yourself nearly unable to make a sound, finally he seemed to begin to crack, his deep moans touching a whole new kind of place inside you.

“You look so cute, your wasted expression…” He held you with one arm wrapped around your back, his other hand playing with your lips, “I wonder how sweet you look when you cum…?”

You could only give him an imploring look, your body being split open.

“My sick little darling…” You felt his final knot manage to slip in a bit further, causing you to cry out in pleasure, “Cum on my cock…” His voice wavered in time with his thrusts.

If you were to refer to any orgasm as explosive, this could be the only one, having never been spread that wide. Luckily he could easily support your form as you convulsed and shattered around him. You could almost immediately be thrown over again as his last knot slipped entirely inside your cunt.

“F-fuck, darling–” He stammered, his face contorted with frustration as he tried not to cum just yet wanting to prolong this moment. You felt so complete as he held you, your head resting on his void for a chest, warming his knots. You wanted to feel his searing load paint your insides, but he merely held your hips in place as you felt his cock tremble inside you.

He managed to move, setting you back down on the table letting you lay back.

“How do you feel…?” His words sounded as if they were squashed and dragged under a shoe, so incredibly tense as he gave your gleaming body a once… or twice over.

You couldn’t control how your cunt continued to squeeze, “So good…”

He wanted more. More of your voice, more of your touch. He decided to pull out, painstakingly slow, somehow, much to his surprise, managing not to implode. You both shared a groan of delight as the sliding friction tore at each other. A ring of your creamy sweet decorated the base of his cock, he watched as your wetness seemed to pour from you as he vacated your hole.

You wanted him to feel good… You had a fiery urge to ensure he was satisfied, almost to a point of not being able to recognize your own mind’s voice.

“Can you stand up one last time… for me?” He sounded pathetic… No human had ever obliterated his senses like this before, he didn’t think it was possible. He found humans to be amusing little toys… Not that you weren’t, but…

You obliged without question, watching as he turned away briefly to grab your belt. Of course his body was chiseled, something he knew appealed to mortal toys like yourself, you got another chance to study him until he faced you again.

He grabbed your wrists, binding them with your belt, and raised them above your head in one hand. He turned you with his other, walking you to the landscape window in his third-story office, having always wanted to do something like this. A foot or two away, he stopped, pressing your top half forward at your wrists, the side of your face and breasts pressed against the freezing glass. You felt so shameless… And so empty as you waited for him to fill you.

“Do you like being humiliated?” His familiar tip danced at your used hole, “Answer.” His domineering words ignited you.

“By you.” You answered candidly, words slightly distorted from your face being held against the window.

“Such a good, slutty little patient you are.” He plunged the entirety of his cock back into you swiftly, obsessed with how his largest knot was absorbed so easily.

“I want you to cum inside me, doctor…” You whined impatiently, completely lost in him.

“I’m sure you fucking do.” His words were shredded between his teeth, “You’d love that. I wish someone could see how fucking bad you want my cum.”

“Please…” You urged him to move, still in disbelief that he buried himself so far.

He was nearly at his own wit’s end, thrusting himself up into you, his hips colliding forcefully against your ass. His free hand was soldered to your waist, ensuring you remain as a statue in this unpleasant pose, it being uncomfortable somehow adding to the storm surge brewing inside you.

“Are you going to cum again, darling?” Your eyes were squeezed shut, just nodding worthlessly against the glass as he cooed so sinfully. “I love seeing you dance so beautifully on my cock, give me all of you.”

His tactic of plunging his entire length into you repeatedly was something you were particularly susceptible to, his knots rolling effortlessly through you, “Fuck… Yes...” His voice was as smoky as his scent, fogging your mind. He slammed into you one final time, holding you tightly against him as you both reached your highs. His thick seed was so hot, coating your walls so deliciously, his pants raining down against your back. You felt strangely resolved like you had served a divine purpose by receiving his cum so impossibly deep.

He pulled your body close by your bound wrists, his chest flush with your back, potting sweet kisses from your neck to your shoulder. It felt as if you could nearly be bound to his pelvis from how tightly you were wound around his shaft. A hand dragged down, letting your arms finally rest as he delicately caressed your breasts, your head falling back against the top of his chest.

“I think you may need a follow-up evaluation,” He cracked softly near your ear, “Your case is particularly serious.”

[revelboo]

The Weakends pt 3

TFP Ratchet x Reader- comfort

• Frowning at the console, Ratchet runs the sequence again. And again. Denta gritting, he ignores the faint tremor in his servos as he changes a variable and gets another error. He’s not even sure how long he’s been at it. Long enough exhaustion is dragging at him, settling heavy on his helm and limbs. There’s too much at stake, though. He can’t fail.

• “Hey, Doc?” No, maybe if he tries a different synthetic binder? Error. Can’t put his fist through the screen no matter how bad he wants to. Can’t disappoint them all. “Ratchet?” Error. “Hey, maybe-“

• “What? I’m busy,” he’s snarling the words in irritation even before he looks over. And immediately feels bad about it as your expression shutters and you hunch into the plush blanket you’ve cocooned yourself in. Your color is still off despite your protests that you feel better and those dark smudges are still there under your eyes. And you wilt before his optics, bare feet shuffling as you turn away with a mumbled ‘sorry.’ Guilt leaves a sour taste in his mouth as he grinds his denta.

• Scrap. He’s reaching, catching the end of your blanket without thinking and you stumble to a stop facing away from him. Upset with him? Probably. Cracking synthetic energon is important and he knows you know it. “I didn’t mean to bug you,” you say, fingers fisting in the blanket in an attempt to tug it free of his servos. “I know you’re busy.” There’s no bitterness in your tone, just tired resignation and somehow that’s worse. Because you expect him to be too busy for you.

• “I’m always busy,” he mutters, pulling on the end of the blanket to force you closer. Now your expression is carefully empty as you turn toward him. “And this project is important.” Your shoulders lift and fall, mouth opening, but he holds up a servo. “I’m not finished.”

• Jaw working, you give a half hearted tug at your blanket, but the medic isn’t letting go until he’s ready to. Which means no skulking away and avoiding a lecture. Sighing, you wait for the inevitable as he frowns down at you. It’s not like you don’t realize he’s busy, but he’s been typing away for hours and while watching his slow, deliberate strokes on the alien glyph keyboard is amusingly adorable, he hasn’t stopped. Gone to refuel or rest. He’s always taking care of everyone. Except himself.

• Venting softly, he tugs again and you stumble towards him. He curls his servos around you before you can fall, lifting you and retreating back to the console with you cradled to his chassis. “This is important, too.” Slowly, you relax against him with a little huff that might have been a laugh of disbelief. He hadn’t wanted humans involved, protested against them to Optimus. That the fragile little organics are a liability was obvious. And they still are, but they’re also worth protecting.

• Especially when you lay a tiny hand on his chassis and look up at him. “So are you, Doc.” You know he hates the nickname, but he also knows it’s a deflection to hide the worry in your voice. Worry for him. And that surprises him into stillness, because you’re trying to care for him the only way you can.

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