#TAKE SICK DAYS OR WORK FROM HOME. STOP COUGHING IT UP IN HERE

[junonreactor]

screaming and crying and pounding on the walls

[rninies]

✮ pampering a giant baby - gojo satoru

synopsis: gojo satoru rarely gets sick, but when he does, he acts like a child (you don't mind that because when will you ever get the chance of taking care of gojo?)

warnings: sick gojo, fluff, gn!reader, gojo is stubborn (hates being taken care of) — wc: 528

notes: IM BACK YEAHHHHHHH im almost finished with my finals so here we are :3

“y/n, please leave.” satoru blocks the door with his tall figure, leaving you unable to enter his apartment. “i’m begging you.”

you huff, standing your ground. “i am not leaving until you let me take care of you. you’re sick, toru! your body is heating up as we speak.”

“i’m fine-” satoru lets out a cough. “seriously, just go home! i can take care of myself.” as soon as he says that, he sneezes, knees feeling weak. you quickly catch him before he falls.

“‘i’m fine’ my ass. come on, let me take care of you for once.” you mumble, helping satoru inside. you gently lay him on the couch, to which he instantly rests his head on the pillows. “i’ll go make you some porridge, yeah?”

satoru nods, too weak to speak. you instantly got to work, cooking up a porridge as quietly as possible to not disturb his rest. as soon as you finished making the porridge, you brought it over to satoru, gently waking him up. “toru, wake up. you need to eat.”

satoru reluctantly opens his eyes. “can i eat later? i feel sick.”

“you have to eat now so then you can drink some medicine. after that i promise you i’ll let you sleep as much as you want.” you softly say, helping satoru sit up. “just eat a few bites and i’ll be happy.” you hold the spoon full of warm porridge in front of him and he opens his mouth, just wide enough to eat.

after a few bites, satoru mumbles about how full he feels and you stop, quickly grabbing medicine from the drawer and a cup of water. “here. drink this and you’ll feel better.” satoru drank the medicine and you smiled. “there.”

instead of laying back down on the pillow, he lays his head on your lap. “sorry.”

you tilt your head in confusion. “hm? what are you sorry for?”

“don’t know… just feels annoying being sick.” satoru mumbles, hiding his face in your shirt. “i hate feeling like this.”

“mm, i know, baby. everyone has their sick days. you know how it is.” you say, gently caressing his head. “i don’t mind taking care of you for once, though. it’s a good change. i like it.”

“i should be taking care of you, not the other way around.” satoru complains, finally meeting your eyes. “it’s like- i don’t know. it feels weird.”

“hey, don’t feel bad. i like taking care of you, don’t worry.” you leaned down and gave satoru a quick kiss on the lips, to which he immediately covered his lips. “what?”

“i’m sick! you can’t just kiss me! what if you get sick too?” satoru’s voice is muffled behind his hands. “i don’t want you to get sick too.”

you smiled. “i won’t. trust me. now you go back to sleep and you’ll feel better in the morning because my porridge has magical healing powers.”

satoru laughs and closes his eyes, quickly falling back to sleep.

(the next day, you were woken up by a scratchy throat and blocked nose — to which satoru was delighted because he can finally take care of you).

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After being captured by The Ghoul, he had dragged you through the hot desert of the Wasteland. You were so thirsty, and you’d do anything for a drink of water. And you meant anything. Tags: Smut, Practically No Plot, Humiliation, Begging, Spit, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Thigh Riding, Biting, Hate Sex(?), maybe OOC The Ghoul but I think I got it right, Not Beta Read, there's still consent because i can’t write severe noncon Author's Note: i had so many “why am i writing this” moments yet i still finished it i’m so sorry. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this thirsty in your life. 

Scratch that, you don’t think anyone’s ever been as thirsty as you currently are. 

Even though you had no saliva left to swallow, you tried anyway, your throat feeling like sandpaper. It caused you to cough, earning a disgruntled noise from the ghoul currently holding you hostage. 

The Ghoul. Infamous bounty hunter and the cruelest person you’d ever met. Of course, you only found out who he was after he captured you. You’d never even heard of a ghoul until a few days ago, your sheltered life in Vault 14 withholding information about the surface to you. 

You wished you were back home, suffocating as it was. At home, you wouldn’t be forced to walk countless miles under the boiling Wasteland sun. At home, you wouldn’t have a lasso around your neck, preventing you from running off. And even if you did manage to somehow escape the rope confines, you’d seen how accurate of a shot he was. He’d kill you before you managed to keep a foot away from him. 

You glanced back at him, The Ghoul, who had his sawed-off shotgun casually trained on you. He seemed unaffected by the heat, by the sun beating down on your faces. His hat made sure of that, and you supposed that you didn’t have to worry about sunburn if all your exposed skin was melted by radiation.

It had been hard, looking at him at first. After spending your entire life surrounded by “normal” humans, it was a shock seeing him for the first time. You’d seen burn scars before, sure, but never this severe, every inch of him covered in them. Of course, that wasn’t the most off-putting part. That had to be the complete lack of nose, an empty socket where the cartilaginous appendage should be. 

It unsettled you deeply, but you found that you couldn’t stop looking at him, a sick part of your brain enjoying it. You didn’t dare delve into that part of your mind right now, though, your current circumstance is significantly more important. 

He had stopped you in Filly, and after a brief discussion had decided that he was taking you with wherever he was going. You had no say in the decision, and even when you fought and kicked and screamed he still managed to get you bound. A few people tried to help, not because they cared about you, but because they had also wanted to get their hands on a “Vaultie”. Apparently, you were worth something to them up here, a commodity of sorts. It made your skin crawl. You’d gotten firsthand experience, then, of how good of a shot The Ghoul was. 

How you longed to be back in the stuffy Vault, working as a teacher to those kids. As annoying as they were, at least they weren’t currently threatening your life, or making you walk to who the hell knows. You’d take that over this any day. Hell, you’d take latrine duty with overflowing toilets every single hour over this. 

You fixed your attention back in front of you, the endless stretch of sandy dunes in front of you broken up by partially destroyed houses and skeletons of buildings. Your feet were in incredible amounts of pain, every step feeling like you had fifty pounds of bricks attached to your ankles. And that thirst, never ending, overwhelming thirst you felt nagged at you, consuming every thought of yours. You’d take anything to drink now, even that definitely radiated puddle you’d passed hours ago. Or was it minutes? You couldn’t tell.

You knew dehydration had long since started affecting you. You were no longer able to form sweat, and you were certain that your body was slowly cooking from the inside. You were almost certain it would be a better fate than whatever The Ghoul was leading you towards. 

You hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until you felt a sharp tug at your throat, nearly toppling you on your ass. You heard him chuckle as you steadied yourself, and you shot him a glare. Even faced with death, you weren’t going to let yourself be treated like this. “We’re stopin’ here,” he gestured to a dilapidated building to his right.

You had been surprised when he spoke the first time, not expecting a southern drawl. You’d never heard an accent like his before, only ever hearing them on the Holotapes your Vault would play for movie night. You’d also believed them to be fake, or to have died out with the rest of humanity. You had to admit, the one good thing to come out of this whole experience was hearing his voice. 

Momentarily confused as to why you were stopping, your eyes focused, and you realized that the sun was half set. You’d learned rather quickly that it was suicidal and stupid to travel across the Wasteland at night, after an almost perilous encountered with what you assumed to once be a bear. You’d barely escaped with your life, climbing a tree until the creature grew disinterested and found new prey. 

You almost wished it had torn you apart then. 

Apparently you were taking too long, and you felt another tug at the rope, pulling you closer to him. “Ain’t got all day, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The name was anything but sweet, saying it with so much condescension that it made you flush angrily. At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

Grumbling something under your breath, you stormed past him, another low chuckle leaving him. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from that mouth on ya,” he threatened, waving the gun at you in a go on motion. 

The shifting sand nearly caused you to stumble as you ducked into the house through a window, and your eyes struggled to adjust to the low lighting. Holding your breath, you listened for anything else in the house besides the two of you, and when you were met with only your heartbeat, you continued further in. 

Entering what used to be the living room, you saw a large couch, still in relatively decent condition, and luckily free of decomposed bodies. Any wood furniture, however, had already decayed, leaving only fragments where they once stood. You realized that if you were to sit on the couch, it would probably crumble under the weight.

The Ghoul entered behind you, and you made your way down the hallway, checking each room for anyone or anything that could do you harm. The first room was a bathroom, sand filling the bathtub like it was water. Out of desperation you almost tried to turn the handles on the sink, lift the seat of the toilet, do anything for a drop of water. But you refrained, not willing to stoop to that level yet. But you could feel that you were close. 

The next room was a large master bedroom, completely destroyed from when the bombs fell. Sand covered everything, and the walls had practically caved in, leaving you exposed to the outside. There was no where you would stay there willingly tonight. 

The third and final room was also completely devoid of life, but the empty crib in the middle of the room had you gasping, and you heard the click of a gun behind you as The Ghoul prepared for anything. You quickly shut the door. “Nothing, sorry,” you managed to croak out, and you heard him scoff.

However, you saw that he did manage to catch a glimpse of the room before you closed the door, and in those still human eyes you saw something flash through them. Sadness? Longing? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but you sure as hell weren’t about to ask him about it. 

Living room it is, then. Heading back to the original room, you watch The Ghoul sit on the couch, right in the center of it. It held, surprisingly, but you could hear the wood groan in warning. Spreading his legs, you watched him tilt his head back, a content sigh leaving his mouth. 

If you had the energy to blush, you would’ve as you watched him, finding yourself having to look away. Maybe dehydration was messing with your brain, the way you thought that was attractive. What the hell was wrong with you, you thought. 

Thirst quickly chased those thoughts away, and you attempted to lick your dry lips, your tongue mostly sticking to them instead. You were about to go explore the bathroom until you remembered the rope around your neck. 

Like he could read your thoughts, you watched him regard the lasso in his gloved hand. “You gonna run off on me if I take this off, sweetheart?” 

You shook your head, excited to have the irritating rope no longer chafing your neck. “You’ll kill me before I could,” you responded, voice barely a whisper.

The Ghoul barked out a laugh. “Damn right I will.” He considered your response for a moment, and you fully believed that he was going to keep it there. That was until he stood, almost inhumanly fast, approaching you with long strides.

Holding your breath, you felt his tug the rope off your neck, those eerily human eyes never leaving yours as he did. You flinched when you felt one of his leather-clad fingers brush over the irritated skin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, mostly because of fear, but also for another reason that you refused to name. 

With a satisfactory smirk, he looped the lasso back onto his belt. You quickly exhaled when he stepped away, eliciting a coughing fit, which was dry and only irritated your throat more. Fuck, you were so thirsty. 

The Ghoul sat back on the couch in that same lounging position, and you debated sitting on the floor in front of him, but you feared that if you rested now then you’d never get back up. You watched him set a lantern on the ground, the weak oil based contraption the only source of light in the entire room. You didn’t ask why he didn’t start a fire; you also learned to not do that early on too. 

So you remained standing, even though your feet screamed for relief. You ignored them, shifting to try and alleviate the pain slightly. Rubbing your neck, you could feel that he hadn't once taken his eyes off of you, and it was making you increasingly unnerved. “You gonna stand there all night?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.” You tried to sound defiant, but it came out more like an airy noise.

“Suit yourself, then.” He rolled his eyes, making a show of getting comfortable on the couch. “It’ll be a long night for you, that’s for sure.”

Swaying, you leaned your back against one of the barely-standing walls, screwing your eyes shut. You occupied your thoughts with memories of home, trying desperately to ignore the pain. You were mostly successful, that was until you heard the sound of a canister being opened. 

Curious, you opened your eyes back up, nearly falling to your knees when you saw him drinking from a circular canteen. You must’ve made some noise, because he was now smirking at you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and you watched a droplet of precious water trail down his scarred chin, dripping onto his dusty clothes. 

“See somethin’ you want, sweetheart?” He was unabashedly cocky with his tone. 

You son of a bitch, you thought, glaring daggers into him.

“Now, now, no need to be like that,” he chuckled, taking another sip. “Just tell me what ya want.”

He wanted you to ask for it. He wanted you to be at his mercy. Groaning, you rest your head back against the wall. You don’t think you’ve ever hated anyone as much as you hated The Ghoul. Any humanity left in him had been stripped away, leaving behind a cruel excuse of a human. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the way your heart continued to patter in your chest as he stared at you expectantly, that cocky attitude doing things to you that would leave anyone who knew you horrified.

“I…” you tried to talk, but your voice proved to be too scratchy. Clearing your throat as best you could, you tried again, ignoring the way he looked at you like a predator would his prey. It was similar to the bear from earlier, but you’d take that now over the ghoul in front of you. “I need water.”

He tsked, crossing a leg over his lap. “And here I thought you Vaulties were raised with manners.”

It took everything in you to not just snap at him, but that would leave you without any water. “I need water, please,” you gritted out. 

The Ghoul shook his head disapprovingly. “Shame,” you heard him mutter, before he was slowly pouring the water out onto the floor behind him.

Sheer panic tore through you, and if you were able to form tears, they would be in your eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you pleaded, your voice cracking and breaking, and you lunged forward. The click of a gun had your blood going cold, but he at least had the decency to stop pouring. You held your hands up, taking a few steps back.

Registering that you weren’t going to attack him, he lowered the gun, but he still kept it on his lap. If he had any eyebrows left, you’re sure one of them would be raised, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m- I’m sorry,” you stammered out, keeping your hands in the air. “I just… Can I please have some water? Please, I-I… I need it. I’m begging you… please.” You wondered if he could even make out your words. 

You watched his eyes travel up and down your body, and he cocked his head. “Are you?” You made a confused noise, and he chuckled lowly. “Are you beggin’ me?”

One problem that you always had at the Vault is that you never knew when to shut your mouth, and what you said next certainly made it clear that you hadn’t learned yet. “You want me to get on my knees, then?” You had meant it sarcastically, and you immediately regretted it when his eyes went dark. 

You heard the creak of the couch as he planted both feet on the ground, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. His guns barely stayed in his lap, but he didn’t seem to care. “Now that you mention it… yeah.”

Humiliation warmed your cheeks, and you nearly let your pride stop you from sinking to the floor, but then you saw the way the canteen hung precariously in his hand. Damn it all. Taking a deep breath, you lowered yourself slowly, unable to look at the man, not wanting to see his victorious reaction. The sand shifted beneath your knees as you rested on them, but you could barely feel the relief your feet finally felt.

“Can-”

“Closer,” he cut you off gruffly. “And I want those eyes on me.” His voice had turned husky, and you realized he was enjoying this. Were… were you enjoying this too? You honestly couldn’t tell.

Wordlessly, you obeyed, shuffling forward until your knees bumped into his shoes. Your ears burned worse than they did out in the sun, and you wished it would just explode and incinerate you right now. “Eyes up, sweetheart,” he practically purred. 

You took a moment to prepare yourself before you were looking at him through hooded eyes. The brim of his hat cast a shade over his face, and you could only see the hungry glint in his eyes matched with a predatory smirk. Oh, he was loving this, and you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze, heat pooling in your belly that was quickly doused by shame. 

“Can I please have some water? Please? I- I’m really thirsty and… just a bit. Please.” 

His grin grew more as you begged, and you sagged with relief when he brought the canteen closer, no longer dangling over the back of the couch. “See, that ain’t so hard now, was it?”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologizing, for what, you weren’t quite sure. You weren’t too upset about it, though, especially when he brought the canteen to your lips. 

“Head back,” he ordered, and you did, your neck straining at the angle. You swore you heard him groan when you parted your lips, never breaking eye contact with him. The water was disgusting and acidic, but damn if it wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had the pleasure of drinking. He poured it into your mouth, and you desperately swallowed every single drop, the dryness in your mouth and throat instantly being quenched. 

But it wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t help the disappointed noise you let out when he ceased the pouring. “More, please,” you found yourself whining, any remnants of shame tossed out the broken window you’d climbed into.

“Manners, Vaultie,” he growled.

“Thank you, thank you,” you repeated like a mantra, and The Ghoul let out a pleased hum. Thirstiness still clung to you like a second skin, but you felt better than you had moments ago. Some of your energy had returned, and you felt like you were no longer in the grasp of death. 

“You want more?” He asked, and you immediately nodded.

“Please,” you whispered, and you saw something almost wicked pass over his features. 

“Don’t worry,” you felt one of his gloved hands sneak around your back, collecting a handful of hair and tugging, forcing your head back even further. You cried out, a mix of shock and pain. “You’ll get more. Just keep that pretty mouth wide open, just like that.” His normal drawl had turned into an almost rasp, and you shuddered. 

You watched as he took a swig for himself, but he didn’t swallow, keeping the water in his mouth. Confused, you closed your mouth, but as soon as you did you felt him pull hard at your hair. Obediently, you opened it back up, a shaky exhale leaving you.

If he had a nose, it would be currently pressed up against yours. He adjusted so that he was practically towering above you, and man did the angle kill your neck, but you didn’t dare complain. With increasingly widening eyes, you watched as he slotted his mouth above yours, not touching, but you could still feel the heat from his body. 

You nearly flinched when you felt the water hit your mouth, fighting every instinct that told you to shut it. The act was filthy and degrading, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t getting you incredibly aroused. Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming suffocating; it hadn’t even felt this bad when you were outside. 

As he sat back on to the couch, his lips glistened in the dim light, stray remnants of water still coating them. As you held the water in your mouth, he frowned disapprovingly. “Do I gotta spell it out for ya?” He shifted forward again, grasping your face. “Swallow.” 

When you did, he let go, tapping your cheek lightly. “Atta girl,” he cooed, and you sputtered, cheeks growing warm. Shifting where you sat, you tried and failed to relieve some of the tension in you. You thought you were subtle in your movements, but his sharpshooter gaze locked onto it immediately. 

He laughed, a mix of surprise and condescension in one. “This gettin’ you turned on? Maybe you ain’t all that innocent, Vaultie.”

You eyed the half-hard tent in front of you. “I’m not the only one,” you grumbled out, and he laughed again. 

“I ain’t the one on my knees, sweetheart.”  Scoffing, you watched him lean back again. You expected him to say something, do something, but he simply watched you with anticipatorily. Something shifted in the atmosphere, and you realized he was putting the situation in your hands, wordlessly asking you how far you were willing to take this. 

You needed this. You needed him, as bewildering as it was for you to admit to yourself. 

Desire running deeper than that for water coursed through your veins, and you nodded. “More.” You both knew that you weren’t fully talking about the canteen in his hand. 

“Good answer.” Before you could even register, he was gripping your face again. Fingers pressed into your cheeks harshly, opening your mouth back up. Taking another swig, you expected him to repeat what he’d done last time, but you were startled when you felt his lips on yours. 

It was a strange kiss, his closed mouth against your open one, but it didn’t stay like that for long. His lips pulled apart, and without needing further prompting you swallowed another precious mouthful of water. You could feel that bastardly smirk against your mouth, and if you were anywhere near being able to create a coherent thought you would’ve said something. 

But you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was like you were caught up in some haze, but you were sent out of it when you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth. You’d kissed a few people, sure, but never like this. It elicited a startled noise from you that had him pulling back an inch, and you had to fight yourself to not chase after his lips.

“Never had that before?” He chuckled, and he found your following silence an adequate enough answer. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He didn’t even give you a moment to react before he was crashing his mouth back against yours. It was all tongue and teeth and it had you moaning, and you felt the grip on your face tighten. Your head spun, and you tried to keep up with his movements, but you ended up just letting him take over, moving his mouth against your however he’d like. 

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth, and your hands shot out, no longer able to just keep them idly in your lap. You found purchase on his thighs, the sinewy muscles tensing under your touch. But the grip on your face tightened more, almost incredibly painful. Your eyes shot open, alarmed, and a pained noise left you. 

He had pulled away again, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths, but he was glaring down at you. “You better watch those hands.” Even though his voice was husky, the threat didn’t make you any less terrified. 

You were confused, and you watched his eyes trail down to his lap where your hands were. Unable to move your head, you had to strain your own eyes to look down, and sheer dread washed over you when you saw his gun still in his lap, your hands a mere inch away from it. 

“I- I wasn’t… I didn’t… ” you gasped breathlessly. “I didn’t know! I- I’m sorry! Please.” Out of all the times you’d begged and pleaded tonight, this time had to be the most genuine. Immediately retracting your hands back to your lap, you awaited his response tensely. What you failed to notice was the way his eyes darkened as you groveled, his pants growing tighter.

His gaze returned to your face, and out of the corner of your eye you watched as he moved the gun from his lap into his hand. You half expected him to point it at you next, but you let out a very audible sigh of relief when he set it on the couch beside him. It was completely out of your reach now, but he could still easily grab it. 

He loosened the grip on your jaw, still holding it, but no longer digging into your flesh painfully. “I won’t stop you next time,” he growled, and it took you a second to register what he was saying: he won’t stop you next time because you’d be dead as soon as you began to reach for it. 

You nodded as best you could. “Good,” he’d lost the threatening tone, but his voice was still gravely and raspy. “Now, where was I?” His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you sure they were swollen and shiny. “That’s right.”

Like nothing had happened, he returned to his ministrations, teeth grazing your bottom lip again. You hesitated when you set your hands back on his thighs, gaining more confidence when he didn’t stop you. In fact, he was actively encouraging your explorative touches, a pleased noise rumbling his chest as your fingers trailed up his thighs. 

Another swipe of his tongue and a particularly harsh bite had you gripping onto him, barely able to find purchase on the thick material of his pants. You desperately needed air, but he held his grip on your jaw, seemingly unaffected by the issue you were having. Did ghouls need to breathe? It seemed like they didn’t, because he had yet to tear his mouth away for air once as he first kissed you. 

As your hands reached his belt, it was then he finally tore away, a groan leaving him. Sucking in as much air as your lungs could handle, you ran your touch across the prominent bulge. You felt the hand on your jaw go lax, falling to his lap. “You gonna take care of that?” He was giving you another out, giving you an opportunity to stop you from doing something you could regret. 

Rationally, you knew you should stop here, and pretend like this didn’t just happen. You knew the version of you from the Vault would do that. But this new part of you, exposed to the Wasteland and the savagery of the surface world found that you wanted to continue. Besides, you were probably going to end up getting killed in the next few days; why not have some new experiences before your time was up.

You didn’t respond, you simply began to undo the buckle of his belt. You couldn’t get the thing off of him, so it just rested open on his thighs. “Oh, you’re filthy,” he chuckled, spreading his legs even further apart while leaning back against the couch. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see what that mouth’s good for.”

This also wasn’t your first time in a situation like this. You’d only ever done it once, but you apparently weren't too terrible at it, as he frequently requested for a second time, but you always turned him down. You kinda wish you hadn’t now, wishing you had more experience now, but a part of you knew that this was about to be incredibly different from anything you would’ve experienced in the Vault.

With hands that you prayed weren’t incredibly shaky, you pulled down the zipper of his pants. He kept his eyes locked onto you the entire time, darkening even more as the unzipping noise hit his ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, no matter how hard you wanted to. Something about his expression had you locked in, and you shifted again. 

“Don’t let me stop ya,” he rested his arms along the backside of the couch, and you realized you’d just been sitting there. Steadying yourself, you slipped your hand into the confines of his pants, underneath the waistband of his briefs. You heard him let out a small hiss when your fingers brushed over his cock, and you desperately wanted to hear him make more noises like that.

It took a bit of maneuvering before he was free, head brushing against his navel. The skin was pocked like the rest of his body, which you were expecting. What you weren’t expecting was how long he was, much longer than your previous encounter.

Before you could let nerves disarm you, you moved closer to him. Bracing your hands back on his thighs, you kissed his tip, and you heard his hiss again. Sneaking your tongue out, you ran it up his length, pressing another kiss when you reached the top. “Don’t tease,” he growled, tangling his gloved fingers back into your hair. 

When you took him into your mouth, he let out a noise that sounded like a laugh and a sigh, the grip on your hair growing painful. It didn’t deter you, rather it drove you wild, and you took as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat, you had to stifle the urge to gag. Taking the rest of him in one of your hands, you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks. 

You couldn’t see the way his eyes locked onto his cock leaving and entering your mouth, but you could hear the small grunts he made in tandem with the movement of your head. He kept his hips surprisingly still, but his fingers were somehow getting even tighter, as if all of his restraint was being poured into his grip, and it was on the verge of snapping. “You can take more.” It wasn’t a question, and you felt his press down on the back of your head when you had him fully in you.

Startled, you tried to make a noise, but the vibrations just went straight to his cock. He groaned, louder this time, and he didn't let up. “Relax,” he bit out, and you tried. You really did. Taking as deep a breath you could, you forced your muscles to relax, your hands going back to his thighs. Tears sprung to your eyes as you really tried not to gag, but a garbled sound still left you as he pushed himself further down your throat. 

“Fuck,” he drawled out, “just like that.” It felt like five years had passed before your nose was finally pressed into his skin, his cock fully sheathed down your throat. Tears dripped onto his skin, but he didn’t seem to feel them. Your scalp stung as he lifted your head up, and you took in a shuddering breath, your lungs screaming for air.

You didn’t have a long reprieve before he was shoving you back down again, and even though the intrusion wasn’t new it still caused you to make an awful noise. It took him pulling you off again for you to realize what he was doing; he was fucking your mouth, using it for his own pleasure like you were just a toy. The realization had you moaning, the discomforts becoming an afterthought as he chased his pleasure, your own growing. 

Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming unbearable arousal tightening in your core, and you snuck a hand down between your legs, trying to touch yourself through the thick material. It didn’t help, but you still tried anyway, desperate for any sort of relief. The Ghoul laughed, not letting up the way he moved your head. “Oh, sugar, is suckin’ my cock gettin’ you bothered?”

Your head spun, the new nickname and the crude words making you dizzy, and you let out what you hoped was a confirmatory sound. He only huffed in response, and you could tell that he was starting to get close to his release. His hips had started to buck, albeit slightly, and his groans had turned to unintelligible moans. 

He cursed again, and you were barely able to glimpse his head roll back, hat hitting the ground. He didn’t care, continuing to fuck your face, and you desperately ground against your hand. “So good, fuck,” he panted, and you let your eyes flutter shut.

They shot open when you heard him moan your name, but you had little time to appreciate the way he said it. He pressed down hard on the back of your head, holding you there, your nose pressed flat against his body. A plethora of curses fell from his lips as he came, his cum spurting deep down your throat. 

He let go, hands falling to his sides, and you removed yourself, coughing and gasping for air. Your cheeks were wet with tears, your jaw aching, but it was the best pain you’d ever felt. He stared at you with lustful eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. 

Holy shit. You were tired, but you wanted more. But you weren’t expecting him to do anything else tonight. This wasn’t a partnership; he’d gotten his release. You’d need to deal with it on your own. 

So caught up in what you were expecting, you gasped when you felt his lips graze the corner of your mouth. His hand cradled your cheek, leather growing damp, and you felt his lips brush the tears that had fallen on the other cheek. You realized he was licking your tears away, and when he registered that you noticed he chuckled, muttering something about not wanting to waste water. You let out an airy chuckle in return, still not fully wrapping your head about what had and what is transpiring. 

“Guess one good thing came from that mouth,” he teased, referencing his earlier threat. He tugged you up, and you stood with knees shaking like a fawn. You’re certain you looked like a mess but he either didn’t care or really enjoyed it. 

You really had no idea what was going to happen next. You observed him with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help the bewildered look when you saw him stroking himself, still rock hard like he hadn’t just come. He chuckled when he saw what had caused you to react. “One good thing ‘bout bein’ a ghoul,” he rasped. “Stamina.”

His own raked down your body, honing in on the way your thighs pressed together, and they flicked back up to your own. “Take it off.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, the zipper on your suit quickly becoming undone. Even though the air was hot, it still felt nice against your hot skin. He didn’t blink as you undressed, eyes clocking in every new inch of exposed skin. Tugging it down your shoulders and off your arms, you let it fall to the ground, the material pooling at your ankles. 

Left in only your bra and underwear, you kicked the Vault-Tec suit off your feet, and you stood there, unsure. “All of it,” he continued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

As you reached for the clasp of your bra, you watched him lean forward slightly, eyes watching you like you were the most delicious meal he was about to devour. Tossing the garment beside you, you reached for the waistband of your underwear. He raised a hand, making your halt, your fingers barely looped under the band.

With two fingers, he gestured you forward, grinning when you complied easily. His hands batted away your own, and you felt he begin to peel it away himself. He was almost eye level with your navel, and you felt his breath caress your stomach. It was like he was unwrapping a present, the way he ripped it down your legs, and it fell around your ankles like the suit. 

You were hardly able to kick it away before he pulled you onto his lap, your hands bracing against his still clothed chest. The couch made a very audible noise, on the virgo of collapsing, but neither of you seemed to hear it. One of your legs straddled his thigh, your bare center pressed against his pants, no doubt soaking the material.

 “You’re wearing too much,” you found yourself commenting, and you felt him chuckle. He took his hands off your waist, holding them in front of you so you could clearly see him take off his gloves, tossing them by his gun. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, realizing that that was all you were getting from him. 

You weren’t complaining, though, when his bare hands touched you for the first time. Along with the marred skin, his fingers were calloused, years and years of harsh life, fighting, and shooting making them so, but they were the best things you’d ever felt touch your soft skin.

He seemed to be having similar thoughts, humming appreciated as he felt your body, fingers dancing up your sides. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and you sighed as he continued his exploration upwards. Worn hands cupped your breasts, fingers toying with your perked nipples, and you unconsciously pressed your chest forward. “Look at ya,” it felt like he was mostly talking to himself, “you ain’t gotta mark on your body.” You felt his mouth graze your breasts, lips ticking you as he spoke. 

You jumped when his teeth made contact with the delicate skin of the top of your breasts, and he chuckled. Moving lower, he took one of your nipples between his lips, his hand making sure the other one was receiving the same attention. His tongue flicked, sucked, and the occasional nip had you crying out, jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. One of your hands settled on the back of his head, the other sneaking back between your legs.

With that surprising speed, he caught your wrist, not even tearing his mouth away from you. You let out a noise of complaint, and you could feel him grin. His hands left your breasts, settling back on your waist, and you felt him begin to rock you back and forth on his thigh. With every rock, your clit ground against the tensed muscle, and you let out small moans, small waves of pleasure crashed through your body.

When he felt you begin to move on your own, he let go, returning his touch to your breasts, playing and massaging them as you got off on his thigh. His mouth trailed up your body, leaving a trail of small kisses and ginger bites, your once smooth skin now slightly indented. Having been worked up for a while, you felt that you were growing close to release, his ministrations bringing you closer. 

He was at your neck now, and he bit particularly hard at the thick tendon there. He laughed when he felt your hips begin to rock harder, and you felt his tongue smooth over the bitten skin. “I-” you tried to speak, but an airy whine from your throat cut you off. Your thighs were trembling, and you could feel the damp patch that had formed on his pants, but you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed right now. 

“You close, sugar?” Not trusting your voice, you nodded instead. “Fuck, yeah you are. C’mon, let me feel ya,” he groaned, mouthing at your neck. 

It only took a few more rolls of your hips before you came, his name tumbling from your lips as a loud cry, pleasure igniting all your nerves. Your stubbed nails dug into the back of his head, and he growled. Your whole body was trembling as you rode out your high, only ceasing the movement of your hips when it became too overstimulating.

A shocked laugh left you, and you slumped forward. That seemed to be the last straw for the couch, the furniture collapsing beneath the two of you. It nearly caused to tumble off his lap, but you felt his hands secure under your thighs. He stood, holding you like you weighed nothing, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his body. 

He eased you to the ground, the sand digging uncomfortably into your skin, causing your back to arch off the ground to avoid feeling it. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out when you watched him shrug off his jacket, tucking behind you wordlessly. These small glimpses of humanity you’d seen from the Ghoul, like when he saw the crib, or when he gave you a way lead you to believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you originally believed him to be.

Well, you still hated him, and you were still his captive, but you realized that he wasn’t a complete monster. It was moments like this, where those high walls he’d built to survive in the Wasteland began to crumble, and you could see glimpses of the man you assumed he once was.

He didn’t give you much time to reflect, though, because his lips were crashing against yours, and all thoughts disappeared. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his cock pressed against your folds. He didn’t press in though, and you whined against his lips, moving your hips as best you could to try and get him to move. “Whatdya want, sweetheart?” He murmured, nestling his head in the crook of your neck. 

“You,” you gasped out.

“I’m right here,” he chuckled a bit, and he still didn’t move.

Groaning, you ground against him again, trying to get him to just push himself into you. He groaned, yet he still didn’t move, his resolve stronger than you anticipated. “Fuck me, please,” you choked out, and you could see him smirk in satisfaction. 

He didn’t respond, and you felt him press into you, sheathing into you with a single thrust. Similar noises of pleasure escaped both your mouths, and your fingers wove into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to find something to grip onto. He stretched you out so well, and you gasped when you felt his hips press against you. He was so deep inside of you, father than any other person you’d taken to bed, and it overwhelmed you in all the best ways.

“Sugar, you feel incredible.” You babbled something in response, and you hated how proud he looked. He didn’t give you time to adjust before he was setting a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours. The sound of skin on skin and your cries of his name filled the room, and you swore if you gripped any tighter on his shirt that it would rip.

Small puffs of air tickled your neck with every thrust, whispers of your name hidden in the gasps. Fingers dug into your waist, most likely going to leave marks in the morning, your once smooth skin littered with marks of him. You couldn't see what your body looked like right now, but you had a pretty damn good idea, and the picture you visualized in your mind had you clenching around him, causing him to falter, albeit it only for a second.

Despite the slight overstimulation you were feeling, you could feel another orgasm begin to form, slowly but surely. Letting go of his shirt, you grasped at his face, pulling back up for another breath-stealing kiss. You were so caught up in the way he continued to thrust into you and the way his mouth slotted against yours that you failed to notice the way one of his hands left your waist. 

You broke the kiss with a startled yet pleased nosed when you felt his fingers begin to work at your clit, rubbing fervent circles into the sensitive nerves in time with the thrusts of his hips. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart. C’mon,” he groaned out, and your head hit the ground, barely softened by the jacket and the sand. 

His name had turned into soft pants, unable to form a coherent thought as he relentlessly fucked you. The added stimulation brought you closer to the edge, and you tried to let him know you were getting close. “Go ‘head, lemme feel ya,” his accent had been cranked up to a hundred, and in any other situation you would’ve found that funny. 

With a final cry of his name, you came again, your vision going white as you temporarily spaced out, the pleasure too overwhelming. When you came to, he had pulled out of you, leaving you empty and shivering. You watched as he stroked himself a few more times before he came all over your stomach.

It was only the sound of breathing in the room now, both of you just staring at each other as you calmed. Relaxing on his coat, you watched as he stood, tucking himself back into his pants as he did. Closing your eyes, you focused on your breathing, jumping when you felt a cloth on your stomach, wiping away his release from your skin. 

He didn’t say anything, tossing the cloth to one of the corners of the room when he was done. He placed your clothing beside you, before sitting and resting against the collapsed remnants of the couch, head rolling back. 

Groaning, you broke free from the post-orgasmic haze you were in, sitting upright. Both pleasure and pain still lingered in your muscles, making your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Slipping on your undergarments, the dampened fabric of your underwear was incredibly uncomfortable, but you gritted your teeth and ignored it. After putting on your bra, you debated putting on the Vault-Tec suit, but the idea of putting it back on made our overheated body cry. 

The Ghoul watched you as you redressed, thinly veiled desire and interest flicking in those eyes. You were now sitting upright on his jacket, and you got up onto your knees, freeing the garment and holding it in your arms. Scooting towards him, you held it out to him with shaking arms, almost like a peace offering. His eyes didn’t leave you as he took it, setting it beside him.

Before you could decide that it was a bad idea, you sat down next to him, shoulders brushing. If he was surprised, he did a good job of hiding. Exhaustion returned, and you felt your eyes begin to flutter close, head bobbing as you struggled to stay awake.

It was your turn to be surprised when you felt him pull your shoulder down, resting your head in his lap. You were even more surprised when he draped his jacket over your shoulders, the material thin enough to not overheat you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes, but he avoided your gaze, staring at the half-standing wall in front of him.

“Rest. We’re leavin’ at sunrise.” His voice was hoarse, back to that commanding tone from earlier. 

Getting as comfortable as you could, you let your eyes shut, sleep beckoning you. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, but as you felt his fingers comb delicately through your hair, you knew that he was no longer going to be following his original plan for you.

[tojikai]

SUNDERED

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Sundered+ (COMMISSION)

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments

word count: 3.2k

One woman’s life lesson is another woman’s better man.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo intentionally runs into you when you’re buying groceries just to show you his girlfriend. The woman was your classmate from high school. At the first meeting, she was shy and tried avoiding your gaze but Satoru just had to call you and ask something about your daughter. Completely unnecessary but he’s just that much of a jerk. Once was considered an accident. But when it happened two, then three times, you already know that you have to change your shopping schedule.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo picks up his daughter from your house an hour late, rubbing on your face that he overslept because he spent “some time” with his girlfriend last night. Distasteful and disrespectful, but you let it slide cause he seems happy. You don’t want to be a killjoy, right? You were never his girlfriend, to begin with. Just someone he got pregnant from a one-night stand. 

❧ babydaddy!Gojo posts pictures of his day out with his daughter online. His girlfriend carrying your kid as the three of them wear matching Mickey and Minnie Mouse headbands. You could only scroll past and continue your work to busy yourself. Maybe you should stop lurking around social media and just use your phone for important messages. Maybe you should also lose feelings for someone who never harbored genuine ones for you in the first place.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo always lets his girlfriend open the door for you when you’re picking up your daughter from his house on weekends. He leans back on the couch, watching you grab your daughter’s things, opening his arms to cuddle with his girlfriend before you even get to walk out the door. It made you feel pathetic and small but what can you do? There’s simply no place for you in that house.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo insists that you spend more time together for the sake of your daughter. You agreed to it and now, you had to sit in the back of the car with your daughter as he drives his girlfriend to work. It made you feel sick and nauseous that you were only able to spend half a day with them before you decided to go home and sleep the day away. Maybe when you wake up, you’ll find it in you to hate him.

“Mommy? Call her, love.” Gojo used a higher voice to encourage his daughter to call you. He knows that he was foul for what happened earlier. But what is he gonna do? He can’t reject his girlfriend’s request, plus it was only a ride. It’s not like she was with you for the whole day. Still, he doesn’t think it’s the reason why you left early. You might be feeling…tired. Even if it was Saturday yesterday and you have no work. You might still feel fatigued on Sunday, right?

“Mama!” The little girl mimicked pointing upstairs. Satoru sighed placing her little bag on a nearby chair as he made his way upstairs. He figured that if you’re still asleep, he could just wait for you to wake up and just look after his daughter here. You’re a single mother for 4 days a week, and on top of that, you also have work. You literally don’t have time to rest. He told himself that he needs to stop messing around just to get a reaction from you. 

Reaching your room, Satoru knocked on the door three times, calling out your name when you didn’t answer. “Wait a second.” You voiced out from the other side, “I’m just gonna call my mom, can you wait for her?” You suppressed a cough at the end of the sentence but it didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. “Are you sick? I could take her back to my house, we’ll look after her until you feel better. ” The suggestion made your stomach churn. They get to play house with your kid and here you are, being miserable.

You shook your head, realizing how bitter you sounded. She wasn’t unkind in any way to your baby but something in you hurts when you think of them giving your daughter the family experience that you cannot provide. You and Satoru tried to work things out but you just can’t get on the same page. Instead of trying to be better for you and your daughter, he decided to fuck around and date someone else instead. 

You wouldn’t say that your name was clean. What with a couple of threats such as finding someone who could act right. You just didn’t think that he’d really leave. It hurt but now you’re getting yourself used to the feeling. Maybe he just couldn’t act right with you. Because why is he so good with his girlfriend now? She tamed him, as he once boasted to you during a fight.

“I’m stuck with a child that I have with you, but not with you.” He pointed out, leaving a searing pain in your chest. “There’s no way I’m letting that happen.” Tears were starting to form in your eyes as the words come out of his mouth. How could he say something so cruel to you, the mother of his child? All you did was tell him that his girlfriend was getting kind of too much after she told you what to do with your child. And now he’s making you the villain.

“I just told her that—” You tried to explain, voice starting to shake. “If that’s all you did, she wouldn’t come to me crying, Y/N.” You just can’t believe that you’re fighting over this. You already have so much to think about and now this, you also have to be cautious about his girl. “She told you herself, I just didn’t want her telling me how to raise my child!” 

“Of course, she wouldn’t tell me that you’re being harsh to her. Unlike you, she’s actually kind and considerate of other people’s feelings.” You looked down, letting out a strangled sob escape your throat before quickly wiping away the forming tears in your eyes as you turn away from him. Why was he never this defensive of you? He didn’t even try to fight for you when his girlfriend convinced him to take your daughter with them on a trip. Without your permission.

And now he’s talking as if you’ve been nothing but a disturbance in his relationship with her. Everything's just unfair. Yet, you just let it slide because you wanted nothing but peace for your baby. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you anymore, Satoru. You’ve said enough.” You sniffed, walking to your daughter’s room to check if the noises woke her up. Satoru was left standing there, processing all the things that he said.

He watched you disappear into the dark hallway of your apartment, shoulders shaking with your head hung low. Even if he can’t see your face, he can tell that you’re crying and it made him feel like shit. He went overboard, didn’t he? “Fuck.” He threw his keys on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. He wanted to apologize but at the same time, he wanted to prove his point. His girlfriend was only trying to help and you took it the wrong way.

At that time, Satoru thought that maybe she was right. You’re just getting kinda jealous that she could spend time with your daughter and Satoru more and now you’re being too sensitive, letting out your irritation on her. She said that it was a natural feeling for a mother to feel that way but Satoru can’t let you treat his girlfriend like shit just because of your pettiness and jealousy. You have to learn to adjust and accept that some things are gonna be the way they are because of your setup. 

As for you, you felt hurt. Neglected even when you know that you’re not supposed to receive as much attention, much less protection from him. His priority is your child, but not you. You have no choice but to talk and work everything out with them for the sake of your daughter. You know that you could start dating someone of your choice but you wished that it would be that easy. You just want to focus on your daughter and if you’re gonna find someone, you want them to love her as much as you do. 

You wonder what you lacked that couldn’t soften him the way he did to her. You started to think that you’re the problem and that is why you couldn’t fix him as easily as she did. 

You stood up, opening the door for him seeing your two-year-old reach out to you. “Mama’s sick, love, sorry.” You covered your mouth, blinking away the heaviness in your eyes. Satoru watched you pack your daughter’s things. “If you’re gonna be busy, just tell me. I’ll just contact Mom. She can be with you for a few days, just until my cold is gone.” You murmured, counting the diapers to put in her baby bag. 

You don’t want to be away from her, but letting her stay with you when you’re like this puts her at risk and that’s the last thing you want. You can’t stand seeing your daughter through pain and you’re pretty sure it’s the same for his dad. Begrudgingly, you placed the bag in front of Satoru before reaching over for her favorite toy. You smiled at how she squealed when she saw it.

“You know we’re never too busy to take care of her. Just rest, so you’ll get better soon.” You swallowed, nodding your head slowly as you thought of what else they should take. “Yeah, I’ll be picking her up.” You kept your distance from her, sitting down as you felt your head spinning a bit. “Do you...do you have medicine, though? I could get some if you want,” Satoru can tell that you’re really sick and despite his situation with you, he can’t just let you be when you’re like this. You’re still the mother of his child. 

“No, it’s fine. I have some here. Just take care of her.” Your voice was hoarse and your daughter was starting to reach out for you again as if sensing that something was wrong so you urged Satoru to get going. “Be good, okay?” You waved as she watched you with her curious eyes but waved back, nonetheless. You wouldn’t admit it but you feel envious that they could be happy together with her. You’re afraid that one day she’ll prefer being with them over you.

As for your feelings for Satoru, you hated thinking or talking about it. You’re obviously in love with him, but you wouldn’t acknowledge that yourself, either. You fought too much, you hurt each other too much. Other than that, there’s no point for your feelings now that he has someone he really loves and truly cares about. 

You never experienced the boyfriend-girlfriend stage with Satoru. It’s like one day, you just woke up and you’re already parents. You can’t blame him for not having real feelings for you. You do your best to be as civil to them as you can be but sometimes his girlfriend’s just out of bounds. And after a couple of painful fights with Satoru regarding her, it just became too much for you. 

You’re just tired of feeling like a wedge to someone’s healthy relationship. That’s how Satoru makes you feel and you just can’t take any ache from that. 

Another thing that you deny to yourself is the hope that you might fix this all. There are always what-ifs in your mind, and you would never tell Satoru about them. He’ll probably laugh at you and your threats that you’re gonna be with someone who truly makes you happy. You would never destroy his relationship just because yours didn’t work. If you have to cover your eyes, look away and pretend to be deaf every time they’re around you, you would. 

You often think about what it would be like if he settled down with his girl; if they decided to get married and have a family of their own. You don’t want your daughter to feel left out. You don’t want her to feel like she doesn’t have her own family in the middle of them. You also wondered if you’d have moved on by then. You hope so. You don’t want to be this pitiful and heartbroken forever.

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

After a couple of days, you’re finally feeling well. You got up early and sent Satoru a text that you’ll be picking up your baby in a few hours. You missed her and her giggles so much. The house was clean during the past days but you very much prefer it to be messy, as long a she’s there. You’ll never mind getting up in the middle of the night or waking up extra early for her. 

Arriving at Satoru’s residence, you rang the doorbell as you waited patiently for someone to open the gate for you. You were hoping that it would be your baby girl, extending her short, chubby arms to you but instead, it was Satoru’s girlfriend. “Come in, she’s still playing inside.” She smiled at you, opening the metal door wider. “Thanks, I messaged Satoru that I was coming to pick her up. Is she ready?” You asked her as you walked to their front door.

“She is, but she’s kinda fussy about it. Satoru bought her a huge playpen and she just wouldn’t get out of it. She’s enjoying a lot.” She tucked a hair behind her ear and you can’t help but feel conscious of how you look. Opening the door, you were welcomed by the sight of Satoru lying down with his daughter in the said enclosure. She was fiddling with a toy as they watched on the big screen. 

Her favorite toy was at the corner, and for some reason, it left a pang in your chest.

“Sweetie, someone’s here for you.” You hated the way she phrased it but you know that she doesn’t mean for it to be offensive or rude to you. The little girl looked up with her binky in her mouth, blinking before smiling at you. “Oh, you’re already here. She wouldn’t let me out of the playpen.” Satoru explained, probably thinking that you didn’t appreciate that it had to be his girlfriend opening the door for you. 

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” This place always made you feel like you’re an outsider. Probably because you are and it didn’t help that they’re making you feel like it. “Mama!” She waved at you, pointing at the screen as she sat down. “That’s a nice show, love. Maybe we could just continue watching it at home?” You know that she doesn’t have a big playpen there. The screen isn’t that big, either. She suddenly lied back down, whimpering as she kicked her tiny feet. You felt like telling her that you’d work hard to buy her that too.

She doesn’t want to go home yet and that’s what you feared. 

“Baby, mom’s here. She missed you.” Satoru called out but to no avail. He came to lift her up, trying to see if she was just being too lazy to get up. Her eyes were glued to the television as she sucked on her pacifier. She was too into it, pointing the show to everyone before smiling at you. Oh, how you missed that smile. “Let’s go, now.” You cooed at her, softly clapping your hands.

When you tried to reach for her as Satoru leans her close to you, she started wiggling around. “Down, Mama! Wait.” Her cute language never ceases to make your heart swell with joy despite the fact that she’s trying to get away from you. She runs away, stopping to look around before going to Satoru’s girlfriend and hugging her leg. She was in awe when she picked up your daughter. 

So… she’s who your daughter’s referring to by…Mama. You could almost hear your heart shatter at the realization. Since when did she start calling her Mama?

“You don’t wanna go home yet? But Mom’s here.” She talked in her baby voice and you don’t know if you’re gonna be happy that she treats your daughter really well or jealous that she came running to her when she don’t want to do something. Satoru went up to them, leaving you standing a few meters away. You don’t like what you’re seeing aside from your daughter.

“It’s not good to ignore Mama.” Satoru tapped her nose with his finger which she cutely swatted away, eliciting a chuckle from him. “Y/N, I was thinking… maybe I could just, uh, take her home later in the day. This playpen just arrived yesterday and you know how kids are…” He laughed nervously, struggling to find a nice way to say that your daughter won’t be coming home yet.

“Yesterday, I was joking about giving her playmates and she was so excited, she was running around.” His girlfriend giggled as she shared. It was a simple story yet it was a thorn to your heart. Why does it seem like your every nightmare is coming to life? You just smiled at her, understanding that she was talking about giving your daughter siblings. Satoru was silent, but you didn’t dare look at his face. You know that it’s in their future plans and you don’t have to see him smiling about it too. 

“That’s adorable..” You don’t know what else to say, so you just nodded your head slowly, blinking quickly so as to bring yourself back to reality. His place was huge compared to your apartment. The playpen looks so much more comfortable than the crib she has at your place. She has new toys and a mom and dad by her side. So, now she doesn’t want to leave. Suddenly, you can feel the weakness in your knees from when you were sick starting to come back. You cleared your throat as you straightened yourself.

“J-just take her home later. I, uh, bought something for her.” You lied, knowing that you still have to go looking for something you can buy for your lovely child. You wanted to snatch her away from Satoru’s girlfriend, her other mom, but the giggle flowing out of her lips are too precious for you to ruin; the smile on her face as she tickled her tummy was too priceless. Look at them, you told yourself as you started to feel farther and farther away from their little world. They’re a picture of a happy family. 

“I’ll see you later, honey…” You whispered, giving her head a pat as she looked up at you with her big, cerulean eyes. You didn’t wait for any of them to walk you out, you just let your feet take you out of their home, not daring to look back for the fear of breaking down. Your fingers tremble along with your lips and the tiny droplets of rain felt like acid on your skin. Maybe what they say was true. We experience people differently.

One woman’s life lesson is another woman’s better man.

NEXT

[silverhairsimp]

who's gonna take care of you? k. bakugou

I am sicker than sick and couldn't sleep last night so here's some bakugou fluff.

Pairing & CW: Bakugou x f!reader. Reader and Bakugou have two kids. Brief mentions of pregnancy from Mitsuki (Reader is not actually pregnant). pure, sickly sweet fluff.

Katsuki looks at the clock hanging above the kitchen sink, 7:24am. Usually you’d have been up for at least a half hour by now, maybe more. The kids have to be to school at 8:30, it’s only a 12 minute drive, but they like to get there early and play with their friends before their day of learning starts. He looks at the two of them sitting at the counter, digging into their fresh pancakes and waffles with a variety of fruits. They were similar in a lot of ways, but your daughter refuses to eat pancakes, the same goes with your son and waffles. And what kind of number one dad would The Bakugou Katsuki be if he didn’t make his brats happy?

“You two stay here and finish eating— gonna go check on your ma’,” he calls out to them before heading down the hall, only to stop with a hand on the doorframe to look back at them. “And no eatin’ spoonfuls’a syrup this time! That shi— crap’ll give you diabetes.” 

The two of them laugh at their dads empty threat, knowing they’ll at least sneak one or two spoonfuls before he gets back. 

He has an office day today, full of paperwork and unfished reports that need to be submitted by the end of the week. He’s been working overtime, which means you have too. Working overtime at your own job and taking care of the kids when he gets home too late or leaves too early for work. 

“Baby—“ he calls out when he pushes open your bedroom door. Your cheeks are flushed red, your brows are knit together, you’ve got a mound of blankets on you, yet your feet are sticking out from the bottom. “Hey, y’doing okay?” He asks as he gets closer, sitting next to your sleeping form on the bed when he reaches a hand out to cup your cheek, followed by placing the back of his hand to your forehead. “Jesus babe, you’re burnin’ up. Might be running hotter than I normally do…” 

His words are laced with concern as he heads to your shared bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it with as cold of water he can get before wringing it out. For good measure, he grabs the thermometer and to confirm his suspicions.

“Open up for me, baby.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek and your eyes finally open when you bring your hand up to touch the cold cloth on your forehead. “‘Ts cold…” you mumble and he slips the thermometer underneath your tongue. “Yeah and you’re hot—“ he waits for the thermometer to finish rereading before he adds: “101.9 to be exact.” 

You try to sit up, “I’m fine…”but the pressure in your head is too much so you flop back down into the pillows. “I don’t know what year you think I was born, but I know what fine is. And you, are not fine.” 

“But the kids— they have school, you have work— I have things to do around the house.” You try to protest in between a fit of coughs, but he plants an arm against the bed, palm down at your side caging you in. “you know the hag— my mom,” he corrects when you give him the glare, “she loves taking them to school. Eijiro too. I could call either one and they’d drop ‘em off. And with work, that’s one of the perks’a bein’ your own boss.” 

He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, trying to hide the wince at how warm your skin is. Gods you must feel like shit. “Lemme call my mom—“ he steps out of the room and gently closes the door, calling in a favor to the woman who always saves his ass. 

‘Yeah, y/n sick, real sick. Need someone to drop off the beats at school. What? Morning sickness? No she’s not pregnant again. She’s sick sick. Got’a fever of almost 102. Yeah, they ate. Yes, lunches packed. Ugh— what kinda father do you think I— mmgh. Thanks ma. They’ll be ready for ya.’

He comes back in the room slight shake to his head as he thinks back to the conversation he just had with his mom. Your youngest is 6 and she’s been itching for another grand baby, but that’s too bad. She’s got two good ones to love on anyway. “Moms comin’ to pick em up in 15.” 

The two of you can hear the padding of feet running down the hall and your two replicas appear in the door frame. 

“Mommy what’s wrong? Did you catch a bug?” Your 8 year old son asks you as he pushes his hips to the bed. He may have his fathers eyes but he’s got your color hair and the sweetest personality to match. 

“Ew! Why would mommy catch a bug!! That’s so yucky!” Your daughter chimes. She’s got that ash blonde hair to match her fathers and definitely gets his personality. 

“Yeah, squirt, mama’s not feeling great so your Gramma Mitsuki is gonna take you to school.”

“Katsuki— you really shouldn’t have asked your mom to come all the way here.” 

“You say all the way here like she doesn’t live 8 minutes down the road.” He smirks at you, knowing damn well she wasn’t gonna miss the opportunity to be involved in your kids’ lives. 

“Daddy, why can’t we stay and take care of mommy like she takes care of us when we’re sick?” Your boy asks with those gorgeous ruby red eyes peering down at you. “You guys have to stay in school and get good grades. You wanna have your own agency and be the number one hero like your daddy don’t you?” You smile at the two of them and lift your hand off the bed to cup their cheeks one at a time. 

Your daughter flexes her little muscles and grits her teeth. “Yeah mommy! We’ll get strong so we can take good care of you some day!” 

Each of your kiddos leans in to place a kiss to your cheek, it’s no use trying to stop them either. They’re both stubborn, just like you and Katsuki. 

“Go get cleaned up before Gramma gets here— and don’t think I can’t smell the syrup on those sticky fingers, you little shits!” 

It’s no use trying to protest the language when you hear the fit of laughter and screams as they run back down the hall. 

Katsuki gets up to make sure they’re heading out to wash up and grab their school bags while he makes another call to the agency, letting Mina know he won’t be in. 

You’ve nearly fallen back asleep by the time he comes back with a hot bowl of homemade soup, a freshly squeezed cup of orange juice, a ginger shot and two pieces of toast. “They’re right ya know. You’re like super woman to them— and even she needs help sometimes.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and turns on the tv for some back ground noise before he grabs his computer and sits next to you in bed. 

“Katsuki. You’re gonna get sick if you stay here—“ you try to protest and he just smiles and puts the cold rag on your forehead. “Yeah… and when super man needs help; I know you’ll be there too..” He lands a fat one right on your lips and smiles. The two of you share everything together. Even the cooties…

[wishful-sinful-9]

consider…….lumberjack logan taking care of you when you’re sick and the heat/ac in your apartment went out

more lumberjack!logan here!

October is approaching and there's a chill in the air. On your walk to work, the sun is barely peeking over the mountains and a crisp breeze makes you draw your little red swede jacket closer together, Bob Dylan style. You hum “Blowin' in the Wind” to distract yourself from your blocked nose and tickling throat.

Your slight sniffling and paling face fails to escape Logan's radar. “Comin' down with a cold?” he grunts as you place his coffee down in front of him.

“Nothing that won't right itself in a couple days.” You reply, though you're not as certain as your words suggest.

Your fears manifest when you arrive home to an apartment with no heating. You cocoon yourself in blankets, but it's no use; an occasional cough intensifies into fits, and your sniffling evolves into sneezing. Worst of all, you've come over with a bad fever.

He picks up the phone to your meek little voice down the line, a simple: “the heating's broken” and there's a Logan-shaped hole in the wall.

“It's the whole floor,” you explain when you let him in. “It won't get fixed for a few days, it looks like. I was gonna order food.”

“We'll order food from my place.”

You turn to look at him, baffled. “Logan-?”

“Get your stuff, you're staying with me until it's fixed,” he says firmly. “Living in the Arctic won't help a cold. Now c'mon.”

You don't dare protest further when he looks at you with that firm expression of his, instead busying yourself with packing a bag.

The drive to Logan's makes it apparent that his daily visits to the diner must not be for convenience; he lives a few miles away from the town, the site he works on being on the other side of the hill where his lonely cabin overlooks the mountains. You know you make a mean cup of coffee, but you wonder if it could be something else attracting him...

You find yourself on his couch, The Grateful Dead playing on the radio as he gets the fireplace going. He'd made you soup and hot lemon and honey tea for your throat. Any attempts to lift yourself from your seat were sternly thwarted.

An indescribably warm feeling blooms in your chest at the sight of him rushing about attending to you. Only once the fire is lit he stops, turning to you to ask if there's anything else he can get you, something from the store, an extra blanket...

He freezes when you take his arm, blinking up at him sweetly, “I'm fine, Logan, thank you. Please for the love of God, sit down.”

He huffs out a fine, although his heart flutters at the proximity when he takes a seat beside you.

-

You're asleep on his shoulder. You're sitting right next to him and you're asleep on his shoulder.

The two of you had been watching a movie, you having insisted he take some of the blanket. Outside, the sun was slipping down the sky, bathing the cabin in syrupy sunlight, casting over your drooping eyelids. It's early to sleep, sure, but now you're completely warm and comfortable after suffering in the cold of your apartment, an exhaustion had settled over you.

Ever so slowly, Logan reaches around your back and under your thighs to scoop you into his arms in a bridal hold. He carries you to his bedroom and gently settles you into the sheets, arranging them over you - tucking you in.

He falters for a moment, looking over you: the peaceful look on your face, your body curling into the warmth. A slight smile lifts on his lips.

Tentatively, Logan leans down, brushing a stray strand of hair that threatens to bother your eyes - and dares press a kiss to your temple.

He hurries out the room.

[cordeliawhohung]

I better get some “good girl” -ing from Simon to our little chip, if not now then later. This is a (respectful) demand 🧘‍♀️

while i do have some plans for some "good girl" action in the story, this sparked an idea. consider this an alternate ending to chapter 7 of In Limbo

cw: sick fic, fluff, mafia!au, simon riley x f!reader

“I’m sending Riley over.” 

Row speaks the words as if she’s talking about a dog instead of a man. A sweet, fluffy little creature that’s supposed to cheer you up on cuteness alone, but Simon is far from that. He’s a lofty bloke with thick, inked up arms, and iron-like knuckles that can tear through the bone of a jaw like it’s tissue paper. A beast is more fitting. One that has protected you on occasion, but not one that you want coming over to your apartment: again. 

For one reason or another, he’s always here. Fixing your door. Ceasing the dripping of your sink. No matter what, he always seems to find his way back to you. Invisible string linking the two of you together. He’s come over so often you might as well give him a bed and food bowl so he can be comfortable. 

“Don’t, I’m fine,” you attempt to assure. There’s a fallacy in your tone hidden beneath clogged consonants and thick congestion. The sharp pounding in your head reminds you that you are, in fact, not fine at all. “Don’t send him, I’ll be fine.”

“Chip, you’re not fine,” Row insists. “God, can you even breathe with how congested you are? No, I’m calling Riley. You need medicine, and food. Have you eaten today? I’ll make him get you soup.” 

Despite how verbose her rambling is, you know there is no way you’re getting out of this. Fine. There’s scarce money in your bank account at the moment, and certainly not enough for the good medicine. Some NyQuil to lull you back into the slumber Row pulled you out of with her phone call would be nice. 

Begrudgingly, you accept the help. It feels wrong. Every cell in your body screams that you shouldn’t, that you can take care of yourself, that you can push through unmedicated and be fine in a few days time, but your exhaustion rings louder than nature. You’ll accept the medicine and food, and then send Simon on his way back home, and that’ll be the end of it. 

This will be Row’s debt to pay, not yours. 

Just as the sun dies beneath the horizon, a knock sounds at your door. Lead weights pull at your feet as you trudge toward the door, a thick blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Keeping the heat running is expensive, and though you turned it up the moment Row said Simon was on his way, it’s still bitterly cold; enough for you to tremble. 

As promised, Simon stands waiting for you on the other side of the door when you open it, sack of supplies in hand. Heavy cans of soup threaten to break through the bag, and you find your ears already preparing themselves for the clatter. 

“Hey,” you greet with a sniffle. Snot builds up heavily in your sinuses, post nasal drip assaulting your throat, leaving a vile taste on the back of your tongue. Ignoring it, you reach for the bag, hands trembling with the fever ravaging your senses. “Thanks for dropping these off.” 

“It’s nothing,” he replies. 

Instead of handing you the bag, he shoulders past you, barreling way into your home before you can even cough up a question to stop him. Clearing your throat, you close the door behind him as you watch him unload the supplies onto your kitchen counter. 

“Lay down,” he orders with a look over his shoulder. “Should be resting.” 

His injunction leaves no room for argument, something you don’t have energy for anyway, and you slink back over to your bed. Fatigued body sinks deep into the unsupportive mattress, too heavy head on your pillow. Assaulting lights illuminate Simon’s work area, scalding your retinas in the process. Every muscle in your body has been tenderized; whacked so violently that you’re left with painful bruises that you can feel in your bones. 

Once a can of soup is heating up on your stove, Simon retrieves the bottle of NyQuil, purple syrup glinting bright underneath the harsh light. Carefully, he measures out a dose before approaching the side of your bed. The plastic measuring cup looks pathetically tiny held between his thumb and forefinger. Sniffling, you sit up, hand reaching out for it. 

“Take it quick,” he recommends. “Bit rough on the tongue.” 

“Like a shot,” you mutter with blunt humor. 

It’s not as bad as you were expecting. Menthol washes over your tongue, mixed with a hint of synthetically crafted berry flavor. Its bite has the snot migrating around in your sinuses, slithering around like a worm before finally, you’re able to breathe out of one of your nostrils. Coughing, you hand the cup back back to him. 

You expect him to turn back, to finish up the broth steaming on your stove, but he doesn’t. The fat palm of his hand presses directly on your forehead, soaking up the warmth of the frenzied sickness inside of you. Tired eyes peer up at him, but he doesn’t move. Skin connected to skin, he stays there like he has no intention of moving. 

“Fever’s bad,” he says, hand finally dropping from your head. “You keepin’ hydrated?” 

It’s a laughable question. All you’ve been able to do the last few hours is sleep since Bruce sent you home from work. Eating and drinking has been the furthest thing on your mind. Taking your silence as an answer, Simon turns off the stove before quickly retrieving another item — some sort of bottled drink, which he quickly undoes the cap for you. Sighing, you take it from his hand when he offers it and take a quick swig of the bubble gum pink liquid. 

Though the color of it is appetizing on its own, the flavor is not. Bitter, salty, and faux sweet, it tastes worse than the cough syrup did. You remove the bottle from your lip after a single sip, lips puckering and teeth grinding as you look up at Simon in betrayal. 

“I know, but you need the electrolytes,” he rationalizes. 

“Why does it taste so bad,” you wheeze. “Can’t I just drink regular water?” 

“This is better for you.” 

Sighing once more, you decide to bite the bullet. Tipping the bottle back you chug as fast as your stomach is able to handle, hoping to absorb enough of the foul liquid before your brain can realize the taste of it. You manage to drink half of the bottle before you’re forced to stop, throat constricting at the taste, stomach churning at the speed. You pull the bottle from your lips with a weak cough before handing it back to Simon. 

Humming, he grabs it from you, quickly capping it before reaching to swipe the leftover moisture off the corner of your lips. 

“Good girl,” he praises. 

A warmth more rabid than the fever wreaking havoc on your body fills your cheeks as he turns around, sauntering back into the kitchen. You’re left sitting there on the edge of your bed, sick form curling forward underneath a blanket in shock. While he fills a bowl of soup for you, your fingers can’t help but ghost over your lips. They tingle. Yearning for his touch. 

Simon doesn’t leave until you’ve finished your soup and another quarter of that foul drink, but before he does, he tucks you into bed himself. Blankets layered, pillows fluffed; he ensures you’ve got NyQuil and water within reach. He looks at you differently than he normally does. There’s pity for your poor health, but something softer lurks in the depths of his irises as he presses his hand against your head once more. Your fever has gone down, but only barely.

“I’ll come by tomorrow. Check up on ya,” he says. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you shake your head. “You’ll get sick.” 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. You just get some rest,” he urges, the baritone of his voice humming warm and clear. 

You’re half awake by the time he removes himself from you, heavy feet carefully sneaking toward the exit. There’s a creak as the door opens and shuts behind him and you sink further into the mattress as your fingers brush against your lips. You still feel him there. Thick thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth, doting on you like a lover. Mentally, you cringe at that thought. That’s just the fever talking, you’re sure. Still, that was the kindest thing that’s been on your lips as of late. 

That must mean something. 

[formulawolff]

“tending to my love” - t.w.

pairing: fem!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.1k

warnings: reader is sick, a few curse words here and there, fluff so sweet it may give you a cavity

a/n: this request was sent to me a longgg time ago by an anon! so anon, i hope you enjoy soft toto tending to the love of his life <3 and i hope y'all enjoy the coziness! <3

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚

how are you feeling? have you taken medicine? has theodore checked up on you?

letting out a slight cough, you reach for the mug on the nightstand. carefully, you bring the heated cup to your lips, steam billowing into your nostrils.

the liquid is soothing, easing the ache in your throat as it flows down, the warmth flourishing into your chest.

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚

the mug clinks as you place it back on to the coaster. three gray dots appear, signaling you that he was not quite finished with his series of inquiries.

there's about five more minutes of this meeting and then i am taking the rest of the day off. if you need anything while i'm out, don't hesitate to let me know. would you like any sherbet or sorbet for your throat?

a giggle bubbles up, yet it crescendos into a cough, your lungs burning as you bury your face into your elbow.

once your coughing fit ceases, you begin to type a reply, thumbs gliding across the screen.

still feelin' pretty shitty. all i am in need are of some cuddles ;((

his responds instantly, and you feel the corners of your lips curl into a wide grin.

my poor schatzi. don't you fret, the moment i'm home i'm going to cuddle the shit out of you.

i hope that didn't come out wrong. you know what i mean.

i know what you meant, love. can't wait to see you. x

once you're finished with your text, you shove your phone back underneath the covers. snuggling back into the comforter, your thumb hovers over the spacebar of your laptop, resuming your favorite netflix show.

although this was about your second time rewatching the infamous series, you couldn't get enough. it was your version of real housewives or keeping up with the kardashians, as there was never a shortage of drama in the world of formula one.

since you were sick, you couldn't imagine anything more comforting than watching your boyfriend work. especially since you couldn't be there by his side in the office. you wouldn't admit it, but there were times you fell asleep to the show when the two of you were apart.

which, was the case currently, as the waves of heat from the comforter were oh so cozy. especially in your current state.

yet, you needed to resist.

it wouldn't be too much longer until he was home.

only about fifteen more minutes and he would be in bed with you, wrapping you up in those comforting arms.

meanwhile, toto wolff curses under his breath, balancing his work bag, a small tote of groceries, and keys in one hand. the other presses on his car door, slamming it shut as he fidgets with the keys. clicking a button, the car chirps in response, signaling that it was locked.

who knew that leaving work early to take care of his sick girlfriend was such a crime?

sliding the key into the lock, his wrist rotates. his free hand grasps the knob, opening the door. setting his work bag to the floor, he slips off his shoes, the tote of groceries still in hand.

making a quick pit stop in the kitchen, he places a quart of sherbet in the freezer, sliding a couple bottles of gatorade in the door off the fridge.

now, he could finally reunite with his love.

the austrian trudges up the winding stairs, ensuring that his steps were a little heavier than normal. this was habitual, his way of letting you know that he was home and on his way to you in the bedroom.

however, he doesn't hear you call out for him.

a tiny dose of panic sets in, but he fights his way through it. you just had a cold. it was nothing major, mainly respiratory. there was no reason to fret too much.

when it came to you though, toto found himself in a constant state of worry.

if anything happened to you, oh fuck. that was a thought too heavy to bear.

the moment he enters the bedroom, his heart swells.

you're buried in the comforter, hoodie of your sweatshirt pulled on, lips parted as your chest rises and falls. your laptop is only a few inches away, the sounds of voices filling the space. there's the rumble of an engine here and there, a noise that the team principal knew all too well.

the sound of a formula one engine.

carefully, he sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. his hand connects with your cheek, thumb tracing tenderly along your heated skin.

"did you miss me, schatzi?"

his voice is soft, brimmed with adoration. he doesn't expect you to stir, but you do, lashes fluttering, nose wrinkling in the process. at the realization that he was there, along with drive to survive still playing on your laptop, you pop up, hands instinctively reaching out.

the sound ceases as you nearly slam the laptop shut, "h-hi."

"good evening," a chuckle rumbles in the austrian's chest, "how are you feeling?"

"tired."

"i bet," raising the comforter, the team principal shuffles under the covers, pulling you against his chest.

"how often do you do that?"

"do what?" nuzzling into collarbone, you inhale traces of cologne that linger, grateful for his familiar scent, "i don't know what you're talking about."

"you know what i mean," he tuts, "do you watch that to sleep?"

"sometimes," you shrug, "it helps me sleep."

"well i'm here now," his lips graze your temple, peppering kisses all over, "i'll be here to take care of you when you wake. do you need anything?"

"no," shaking your head, your lids droop, the sleep settling in once more, "you're all i need."

"i love you," his heartbeat is steady, guiding you closer and closer to the edge of slumber.

"and i love you, toto. thank you for leaving early to take care of me."

"always," a hand slips underneath your hoodie, massaging gentle circles into your back, "i'll always be here. there is nothing more important than tending to my love when she's sick."

"you promise?" you can barely form the words, but they come out anyway.

"yes," toto nods, "i promise."

as you doze off, the team principal can't help but bring you in even closer.

sure, it was a risk, being in such close proximity to you.

but it was a risk that toto was willing to take.

if it meant that you were content, then that's all that mattered.

after all, if he caught your little bug, then it meant that he would get to spend more quality time with you.

and that idea alone was more enough to make it all worth it.

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚

master taglist: @ts1m1kas @joalslibrary @bxuzi @swifth0lic @dounib67 @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @invictax @pretzelsarenice @lizxoxeth @crazygirl0902 @marknolee @f1kenzzz @statuewoman @jeannealicette @chuxk-lerclerk @manianoola @lokideservesahug @noooway555 @vimayxo @p3rcyp1g

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

𝓢𝓪𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓬𝓵𝓪𝔀: 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓕𝓸𝓸𝓭

This is a series featuring the Twisted Wonderland cast in different scenarios where they show the Reader their love through food! Starting with Savanaclaw ♡ Enjoy! ♡

𝓛𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓪 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓻

☆ When you're sick ☆

⋆ You were fast asleep, having spent the past few days sick. You still felt horrible, spending most of your time coughing or sleeping. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt something shake you, a voice slowly sounding clearer as you begin to stir.

"Wake up. If I have to be awake then so do you."

Your eyes open slowly as you wake up, feeling groggy as Leona stops shaking you. He's sitting next to where you lay in bed, holding a bowl in one hand while the other rests on your shoulder. A smirk comes to his face as you look up at him, using his free hand to move some hair out of your face. He helps you sit up before handing you the bowl, cradling it to make sure you didn't drop it. Since you've been sick you haven't been able to eat much, either unable to keep it down or getting nauseous at the idea of food.

⋆ Your stomach growls as you look down at the soup he brought you, one of your favorites. As you sit there staring at it he nudges your shoulder, holding out a spoon for you to use.

"Eat. Even if it's just a bite."

You eat what you can, Leona taking the bowl from you once you were done. He comes back with a water bottle, holding it up to your mouth. After he made sure you had something to drink, he moved to lay next to you in bed, pulling you into his arms. You feel him bite your neck in affection before licking it, your eyes closed as you became drowsy.

"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." ♡

𝓡𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓮 𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓱𝓲

☆ Sharing ☆

⋆ You were at the park, sitting in the grass next to Ruggie. A box of donuts sat in front of you, more closer to him than yourself. A nearby bakery was having a sale that day, you and Ruggie deciding to split the cost and get a box of donuts to share. Since the weather was nice, you chose to enjoy them at the park, finding a secluded place to sit.

Each donut he took out of the box he broke in half, giving you one half while enjoying the other. You were surprised by this, expecting to just eat the ones you bought while leaving the rest for him.

⋆ He noticed your surprise, laughing as he broke another one in half. As he handed you your piece you asked him why he was splitting them this way, his answer making your face heat up.

"Well...it tastes better when I share it with you. Any food, really. That doesn't mean you should expect this all the time! I still gotta eat, ya know?"

He laughs, a grin coming to his face before he pauses, staring at your mouth. There were some crumbs on your lips, a little bit of frosting too. Before you realize it, he's already leaning in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Wouldn't want any to go to waste, shyeheehee!" ♡

𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝔀𝓵

☆ Unexpected surprise ☆

⋆ You felt exhausted, both mentally and physically, looking towards the clock. Your day had been horrible, with nothing seeming to go right. Your work was understaffed, with customers acting rude and angrier than usual. You just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, glaring at the clock as if it would make time go faster.

As you were ringing someone up you noticed a familiar face enter, greeting him with a smile as he made his way to the counter. He waited until you were free before he approached you, handing you a bag. You looked at him confused for a moment, Jack simply saying he got you something. You opened the bag to find your favorite dessert, purchased from a bakery you like.

"I was in the area. You sounded pretty upset earlier, so I thought this might help."

⋆ You were touched by the gesture, a smile coming to your face as you thanked him. You knew he must have gone out of his way to get it, the bakery you liked being located on the other side of town. You leaned across the counter, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. The tips of his ears turned red as he looked to the side, his tail wagging behind him.

"I'll be back to walk you home when your shift ends. If you need me to come sooner, just call." ♡

I hope you enjoyed! ♡ Which dorm should I do next? ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[wosoamazing]

Sick Days

Blurt/One-Shot | Diabetes & Love Warnings: Sickness (vomiting), Sever low blood sugar, passing out, mentions of seizures, hospitals, ambulances. This is probably crap but yeah.... wrote it and decide just to post it...

You were flopped against your Mum’s body as she held you whilst also trying to carry everything else, she stopped at the door to the gym, knocking before sticking her head in, 

“Hey Leah, I’m so sorry, I know we were meant to spend the night hanging out and I was taking you home but she is really sick and so I think it's best I take her home, hopefully then no one else will get it either,” Leah saw the way you looked slightly green and decided your Mum was going to need help, this was the first time you had been sick since your diagnosis and it looked like it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I’ll still come if you want, help you with y/n and keep you entertained while you’re cooped up in the house,” Leah offered.

“Yeah okay. I’ll meet you in the car?” your Mum said, gaining a nod from Leah.

-

“You’re going with Russo right?” Viv asked as Leah entered the locker room.

“Yeah,” Leah said as she started frantically packing her things.

“Good, we were worried, y/n looks really sick,” Katie said “Keep us updated?” The Irish woman was pretty sure Leah sent her a nod of confirmation.

“Leah if either of you guys need anything just call, and I’ll be straight over,”

“Will do, thank you all, sorry for leaving so abruptly,” Leah told everyone as she walked out the room.

It had been a few hours since you got home and you kept vomiting, Alessia was getting worried and Leah was nervous that she would soon need another set of hands to help her, so she called kim. Your Mum was looking more green by the minute and seemed to be sweating a lot more than she should have. Leah was also pretty sure she heard your Mum coughing one of the times she went to the bathroom.

“Leah, can you call an ambulance?” Alessia asked just as Kim arrived at the front door.

“Okay, so it is bad, Leah you good calling the ambulance?” The older of the pair nodded at their captain as she was already dialling 111, “What do you need Alessia?” “Can you put some towels down beside her, she’s most likely going to vomit once I do this,” your Mum asked and Kim nodded before quickly running off and returning with some towels. She placed them in front of you and your Mum quickly gave you the glucagon injection, causing you to cry, before suddenly you had thrown up again, but you barely had the energy to do that, your cries were so weak and everyone in that room hoped the paramedics would be there soon. Your Mum was rubbing your back, trying her hardest not to cry yet, she didn’t want to scare you.

“I know bubba, I’m sorry, the ambulance should be here to help soon, I’m so sorry, I love you so much.”

Just as the paramedics walked into the kitchen, you were throwing up again and your Mum and Kim quickly stood up letting them get to work, Leah having told them everything they needed to know already.

You Mum stood up and immediately was pulled into Leah’s arms, where she just started sobbing violently, and Leah had to hold her tightly to make sure she didn’t collapse.

“We’re going to take her to Watford, they may then want to transfer her to one of the bigger paediatric centres, but it's best we get her stabilised first, unfortunately only two of you can travel with us, and they most likely will only let two of you in with her anyway at any one time,” The paramedics told the three women but mainly it was aimed at Leah and Kim, with your Mum being so out of it now.

“I’ll stay here and clean up, you go with them, Leah, just keep me updated,” Kim told Leah who nodded.

“You can sit in the back with them both if you want,” One of the paramedics told Leah who nodded before grabbing your Mum’s phone, and her keys before grabbing her own phone, and going to sit next to Alessia in the ambulance, who held onto Leah's hand like a lifeline.

You were wheeled ahead as your Mum and Leah, well more Leah were left to do some paperwork, Alessia felt a panic surge through her body when she saw your body start seizing, immediately you were surrounded by doctors, she started swaying slightly, accidentally bumping into Leah as her feet became unsteady, “Less, you okay? Less” Leah said just before Alessia passed out, “Shit, Less,” Leah dropped the clipboard and pen to catch her before lowering her on the ground, positioning her on her side.

“Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well,” Leah asked your Mum sternly who was now sat in a hospital bed.

“I ah-” “Is that what you were doing every time you went to the bathroom? Throwing up?”

“I’m sorry,” Alessia mumbled before beginning to cry, causing Leah to climb into the bed next to her, pulling her into her chest.

“We’re all here for you Less, you just need to let us be there for you,” “I just, I didn’t want to feel like a burden, and I just, I’m a single Mum, it’s just me,” “But it’s not just you Less, we are all here for you, her diagnosis has changed nothing, we will look after both of you, just like we always have. Would it make you feel better if I made everyone do a professional diabetes class rather than just going off what you have taught us? I mean I already have but I would be happy to sit through another one and force everyone else to do one too, I'm sure they would all be just as happy to learn so they could help out though. Does that sound good?” Leah felt Alessia nod into her shoulder before they both started to doze off.

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Twenty Two - Poor Milo

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.6K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

Milo was miserable, that much was clear. But there wasn't much his mother could do about it. It broke her heart every time she dropped him off and picked him up from school. If she could have, she would have sent him somewhere better, would have put him in school with Olivia, but she simply couldn't afford it.

"Hey Munchkin," she said as he climbed into her car. Milo had stopped using the far seat when he started school. He buckled himself into the back seat and they set off.

He was silent for the entire journey to Daniel and Olivias house. Even when his mother tried to ask him questions, he wasn't answering. Her heart was entirely broken.

She wasn't the only one that noticed it. Daniel tried his hardest to converse with Milo, but he still wasn't answering. The only one of them that could get any kind of reaction out of him with Olivia. Olivia, who took him off so that they could play. Olivia, who got the hint and didn't talk about school.

As soon as dinner was done, Olivia took Milo up to her room to play. Daniel turned to Y/N as she put the dishes in the sink. "Milo is..."

She slipped back into her chair and her head fell into her hands. "I know. Danny, I know." She said, biting her lip to hold back her tears.

Daniel pushed his chair back and patted his thighs. Wordlessly, she climbed into his lap and let the sobs shake her body. "I'm still more than happy to pay for Milo to go to school with Olivia," he said and she shook her head.

"I couldn't ever pay you back, Daniel," she said between sobs.

He kissed her temple and rubbed her back. "I don't want you to pay me back," he said, but she still couldn't accept it.

The next day at school, Mill was clutching his stomach as he walked to the car. "Munchkin, what's wrong?" His mother asked before he could climbed into the car.

"Headache... tummy hurts..." he groaned.

Y/N frowned as she pressed her hand to his forehead. "We'll, you're not burning up," she said. But then she crouched to his height. "Try it for me today, Miley. If you're really feeling sick, tell your teacher to give me a call and I'll see if I can get Daniel to pick you up."

Reluctantly, Milo nodded. He climbed into the car and Y/N got into the driver's seat. If she could have, she would have kept him home with her, but she couldn't afford to take the day off to look after him.

The drive to the the school was silent, aside from the music playing on the radio. When she pulled into the car park, she unbuckled her seatbelt, but Milo was already out of the car, walking into the school.

She took a minute to sit in her car. Her head was against the steering wheel as she sucked in a breath. Her heart hurt as she gathered the strength to drive off to work, calling Daniel as she went.

It was maybe two hours into her shift before she got a call from the school.

She immediately picked up her phone and held it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Oh, Hello. Is this Mrs L/N? Milo L/N's mother?" Came the voice from the other end.

"That's me."

The woman on the other end of the phone let out a light cough. "We've got Milo here. He's not been feeling too well. Is there anybody that could come and pick him up?"

"Yeah," she immediately replied. "Yeah, I'm going to try and get my partner to come and pick him up."

"Can we get a name?"

"Daniel Ricciardo," she said.

The woman from Milo's school fell quiet. Y/N knew what she was wondering, whether it was the Daniel Ricciardo or not. Finally, she answered. "Okay, that's all sorted. We'll be waiting in the office with him."

She said her goodbyes and hung up, immediately calling Daniel.

Daniel, who picked up the phone the moment she called. Daniel, who stopped his workout the moment she told him what was happening. Daniel, who talked her through her tears as she cried at her desk, all while driving to pick up her son. Daniel was one in a million.

He drove straight to Milo's school, jumped out of his car as soon as it had stopped moving and strode into the office.

The collective gasp from the women that worked there was unsurprising. It really was him, they all thought. As soon as he saw Milo, sitting on the uncomfortable chair in the corner of the office, he walked over to him. "Hey, Milo," he said, getting down to his height. "Your mum sent me to pick you up."

Milo nodded. He climbed out of his seat and grabbed a hold of Daniels hand. Quickly speaking to the women at the desk, he signed them both out and walked Milo to the car.

He climbed into the back seat, sitting where Olivia normally did. "What's up, kiddo?" Daniel asked him as he began driving. But Milo stayed silent, holding his stomach. "Are you hungry?" He asked, and Milo nodded. "McDonalds?"

They went to McDonalds. Daniel took Milo inside, got him a kids chicken nuggets meal and an ice cream. The two of them sat in a booth, Daniel sipping his drink while Milo ate his nuggets and chips. "Feeling better now?" He asked.

"Yeah," said Milo, reaching for his own drink. "Thank you, Mr Ricciardo."

Daniel put his finished drink to one side. "You can call me Daniel," he said. By this point it was clear that Milo wasn't actually feeling unwell. Daniel didn't think he was lying, though. More likely, he was so anxious that he thought he really was sick.

"Is it school?" Daniel asked as Milo bit into his last nugget piece.

Milo hesitated before he nodded.

"I thought so," he mumbled, stealing a chip.

Milo finished his own drink and pushed the empty cup away. "I know my mummy can't send me to a different school," he said. "I know I can't go to the same school as Olivia, but I hate it so much," he said. "I've got no friends and the kids are mean," he said.

Daniel really felt for the kid. The first time he'd met Milo he'd been a shy little thing, and Daniel couldn't imagine that starting school couldn't have been easy for him. He didn't blame him for wanting to be at school with Olivia.

"Come on," he said when Milo finished his food. They stood up and Milo took his hand as they headed back out to the car. "We can watch cartoons until we have to pick up Olivia."

***

Y/N was the last of them to arrive home. Well, it wasn't her home, not yet. But it would be, Daniel knew. One day soon. She used the key Daniel had given her and walked into the house.

"Hey," said Daniel as he strode towards her. "Milo is upstairs with Olivia. He's feeling better now," he said.

She let out a breath and let her bag fall to the floor. It was been an exhausting day, even if she'd barely gotten any work done. All day she'd been so worried about Milo, her hands had been shaking as she tried to type at her computer.

Daniel could see it written on her face. "C'mere," he said as he walked towards her and placed his arm around her shoulders. "I've got Chinese food on the way."

"You're wonderful," she said through a sigh, stopping her walking to wrap her arms around him.

He did the same and kissed the top of her head. "We do need to talk, though."

They were the scariest six words she had heard since the beginning of their relationship. Daniel took a hold of her hand, kissed it, and took her through to the kitchen.

He sat her down at the table and sat opposite her. "Milo wasn't sick today," he said. "I think that he thinks he was sick. I think that he was anxious, so anxious that he felt sick." Daniel reached across the table, grabbed her hand. "Y/N, you can't send him back to that school. He's miserable, and if he keeps feeling so anxious that he's sick, he's never gonna get any learning done."

She squeezed Daniel's hand. "What can I do, Danny? I can't afford to send him to school with Olivia, and I don't have time to drive him out to any of the other schools."

"Let me pay for it," he said and she immediately shook her head.

"No, Daniel. I could never pay you back."

"I don't want you to pay me back." He said it so quietly she almost didn't hear it. "I love you and I love Milo. Let me look after you as best I can."

But she was still shaking her head. "Danny-"

"Okay, no. Let me do it for Milo," he said as he stared into her eyes.

She swallowed and nodded. "I am gonna find a way to pay you back," she said as she stood up and walked around the table.

"I'm sure you will," he said with a grin, pushing his chair back to pull her into his lap. His hands were on her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minseok-smaus @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lily-ann-b @cixrosie @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @lightdragonrayne @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

[lupinsweater]

part one

Teacher!James Potter x Single Mom!Reader 💌 1.3k words

thank you to @moonpascal and @amiableness for beta reading for me!

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

Things did not go the way you had imagined the next time you saw James.

You had already been running on empty for weeks before school started, but your newfound busier schedule added to your inability to sleep at night. Every morning, you woke up with a dull ache behind your eyes and a stuffy nose that usually cleared up by noon.

Between helping Charlie with his homework and trying to meet your deadlines at work, there was hardly any time to rest. You hoped that things would clear up on their own if you stayed hydrated, but you could only stave off your incoming illness for so long before you hit a breaking point.

The morning that you finally decided you were too sick to go into work came about a week after Charlie had started school.

You’d spent the last week thinking about your interaction at parent-teacher night. Every day, Charlie came home excitedly sharing stories from class, and it was clear he had a special fondness for James, which only made it more difficult for you to stop thinking about him. You had spent the previous night tossing and turning, unable to stop coughing for long enough to fall asleep. Eventually, you gave up on trying to get any sleep and turned on the television until the morning rolled around. When it came, you phoned your boss and called in sick, trying your best to sound professional despite the exhaustion in your voice. Just as you were finishing your call, Charlie wandered into your room, dressed for school and eating handfuls of cereal from the box.

“Yes, I think it’s just influenza,” you said, clearing your throat in an attempt to hold back a cough. “Okay, that sounds great. Thank you again. See you next week.” Relief washed over you when you hung up the phone, but it only lasted a moment.

“Mummy?” Charlie asked, brushing his hands off on his jeans and setting the box of cereal down on your bedroom floor, approaching your bed. “Mrs. Wood isn’t here yet. Am I going to be late for school?”

You blinked blearily at him before registering what he was saying, and you reached for your phone to check the time. When you turned your phone back on, a reminder popped up on the top of the screen - TAKE CHARLIE TO SCHOOL. Instantly, you were wide awake.

You had completely forgotten that your neighbor who usually took Charlie to school for you- a sweet older lady named Mrs. Wood- had an appointment with her doctor that morning. She had given you a heads up weeks ago. You scrambled out of bed, pulling on a pair of slippers and grabbing Charlie in your arms, hastily carrying him down the stairs and out the door.

You helped Charlie buckle his seatbelt and situate his booster seat before hurrying over to start the car. An old Britney Spears album played over the speakers, and you went to flip it off, but Charlie’s protests stopped you. Reluctantly, you left it on for the drive, lowering the volume only as you approached the drop-off spot.

As you approached the curb, you could see James standing outside, greeting the students and chatting with parents. You groaned, running a hand down your face with embarrassment. Charlie reached down and fumbled with his seatbelt before it unclasped, and he wrenched the car door open excitedly, his little fingers fumbling with his backpack as he rushed to put it on.

“Mr. James!” Charlie exclaimed, running over to him. James’ face lit up as he saw Charlie approaching, and he dropped to a squat so he was eye level with Charlie. He offered his fist out for a fist bump, and Charlie returned the gesture. James pretended to stumble backwards, his eyes wide. Charlie giggled as James made a show of pretending to rebalance himself.

“Careful there, buddy! You’re stronger than you think!” James exclaimed, ruffling Charlie’s hair with a smile as he stood up. Charlie beamed at him before saying excitedly, “Mr. James! Mummy brought me to school today because she’s sick, and Mrs. Wood had a doctor’s appointment.” James’ gaze snapped up towards your car, and you smiled sheepishly at him as he approached. Charlie followed a few steps behind, watching James curiously.

“Fancy seeing you here,” James said as you rolled down the window. He closed the door that Charlie left open casually, giving you that lopsided smile. You couldn’t tell if your face was flushed, or if it was just a fever. “A little bird tells me that you’re sick.”

“She has in-flu-en-za,” Charlie said carefully, pronouncing the word slowly. James looked down at Charlie, biting back a smile as he said, “Ah, I see. That’s a shame.” He caught your eye, and you fought to hide your own smile.

“It’s not too bad,” you said, grimacing slightly as you looked down at your worn Snoopy pajamas and raggedy slippers. “I’m planning on sleeping as much of it off as I can while Charlie’s at school, and then downing a few cups of coffee so I can make dinner.” James frowned slightly, but didn’t say anything. He studied you for a moment, his eyes trailing over you.

“You like Peanuts?” James said with a small smile. You stared at him blankly, your brain trying to process his question. His smile grew as he watched you struggle with the question. “You know, like Snoopy?” He tilted his head downwards, and you glanced down at your pajamas again. You were definitely blushing now.

“Oh! Yes. I love Peanuts,” you stuttered, trying your best to avoid James’ gaze, but getting more flustered as you noticed his patient, almost endeared smile. Charlie piped up again, “Mummy loves Snoopy! She has a Snoopy plushie she sleeps with every night.”

“Charlie!” You hissed, shooting him a warning look. James laughed, the sound warm and smooth, while Charlie just beamed at you, clearly pleased to have made James laugh.

“No, no, it’s okay,” James said with a chuckle. “I think it’s cute, actually.” He caught your eye again, and his smile softened. You swallowed nervously, which triggered a coughing fit. You doubled over, coughing into your elbow for a moment before straightening up, your eyes watering slightly. James looked at you sympathetically.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” James said when you finally stopped coughing. “You go get some rest. Charlie and I are going to have a great day of school, aren’t we?” James looked down at your son, and he nodded fervently in response.

“Yes! I want to go to class. I love you, Mummy!” Charlie said, placing a kiss on the palm of his hand and reaching his hand up to the window. You grabbed his hand with a smile, squeezing his small palm in yours.

“I love you too, Charlie. Be good today,” you replied. You snuck a glace up at James, who was watching the two of you with a soft, almost fond, smile. Charlie ran over to James again, and he guided him gently into the building, giving you a small wave as the two of them went inside.

That afternoon, Charlie came home with a small gift basket that contained a box of tea, a few cans of soup, and an envelope with your name scrawled across the front in slanted letters. There was a takeaway gift card stuffed at the front, and as you pulled it out you noticed the note behind it. It appeared to have been written on a small school notepad, and there were alphabet blocks that bordered the sheet of paper. On it, a few simple words were inscribed with the same handwriting.

“So you don’t have to cook tonight. -James.”

He had drawn a small cartoon of Snoopy next to his name.

[ilys00ga]

BABY, I CARE FOR YOU.

➞ pair: yoongi x f reader

➞ genre: sickfic, best friends to potential lovers (who knows?), fluffy fluff, yoongi being the best bff you could ever ask for, I miss him so much.

➞ synopsis: where the reader is sick and her bff is always there for the rescue.

➞ warnings: none.

➞ A/N: another request by @parkjennykim, who used 'she/her' pronouns in the req so I used those accordingly. This was fun to write. I hope you enjoy it :)

PS. readers, remember my reqs are still open for now. you can go ahead and send some (read pinned post if u haven't yet, tho).

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

the bag you've been carrying all day slipped off of your shoulder as soon as you pushed the door to your apartment open and stepped in. not bothering to pick it up, you remove your shoes and leave them somewhere near the entrance and take a deep breath through the nose.

your body was having a party that day. muscles and head aching like crazy, throat bleeding as it burned with a ticklish feeling that lingered for hours and bringing out coughing fits from your chest every few minutes, legs barely holding you up and an annoyingly runny nose, you're sure the skin around it is red and raw from how you've been rubbing at it with tissues all day. not to forget the fact that you were freezing to death even though the heaters were doing their work in the flat more than enough.

“Mom is finally home!” A loud squeal came rushing from down the hall. You raised your head with some difficulty to see your best friend approaching you with your cat, Leo, in his arms and a wide smile adorning his face. He stopped in his tracks and frowned, however, as soon as he noticed your scowling expression and bloodshot eyes.

“Woah, you look so not happy right now.” he commented.

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?” Though your expression softened as you spoke, your voice still held a wince the more uncomfortable the light bulb became to your squinted eyes.

“You didn’t answer my calls or even texts, so I just decided to come over myself.” he explained, then eyed you up with knitted brows and a barely noticeable pout on his cherry red lips, “are you okay?”

“My head and body are killing me. I’m going to sleep. You can stay as much as you like, just feed Leo before you leave, plea-." A couple of sneezes cut your sentence off. The action stabbed daggers into your already throbbing brain; so painful that your eyes teared up and you squeezed your hands around your skull to try and control the waves of shock that hit you all of a sudden.

“Wait,” Yoongi put Leo on the floor and walked towards you. the back of his hand felt like a soft, warm blanket wrapped up around your body on a cold, snowy night as it rested on your forehead, so you closed your eyes and hummed in satisfaction.

“You’re so hot.” he grimaced at the heat that bit his skin, and when he noticed how you smirked mischievously with your eyes still closed shut, he whined, “don’t!”

“I’m not doing anything!” Your tongue felt numb as you blinked your eyes open and smiled at him.

“Come, you need to take a warm bath and eat something.” his fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, slowly pulling towards the bathroom.

"Your hands are always warm. I like that a lot." you whispered, absent-mindedly eying the way he was soothingly caressing the skin under his thumb.

“Are you going to bathe me?” his cheeks warmed up at the question you blurted so suddenly, but the way you were slurring your words implied that none of the things you were rambling about were intentional. the fever really took its toll on your brain.

“Go do your thing, and I'm going to make you something warm to eat.” he bit his lower lip and pointed towards the bathroom, leaving to start doing his task in the kitchen.

"The walls are spinning around me!" You whimpered as soon as you entered your room, wet hair wrapped up in a towel, a fluffy, warm hoodie swallowing your torso and a pair of sweatpants. Yoongi, who was sitting on your bed, immediately fixed his gaze on you with a small smile. you could spot your favorite pair of socks laying beside him on the bed sheets, and your heart skipped a beat or two at how thoughtful that small gesture alone was.

"I'm sorry. let me just blow dry your hair, and then you can eat." he apologized, pointing at the hair dryer he'd been holding in his hand and patting the empty spot next to him.

"You're spoiling me today." You complained, but still obediently sat besides your sweet friend.

"You're sick, I'm taking care of you." he replied matter-of-factly.

you murmured a small 'thank you' before he gently started taking the wet towel off your head, then started carefully drying your hair.

When you stepped into the kitchen, you found Yoongi setting plates, along with utensils on the small table located by the wall. his eyes landed on you as soon as your painful-sounding coughs announced your arrival.

“Feeling any better?” his brows rose worriedly, and his gaze followed your hunched up body as it walked and took a seat.

“kind of. thanks for the food.” You offered a genuine smile despite all the tiredness washing over your limbs. he nodded knowingly.

“Here, take these when you finish eating.” He put a tablet right next to your bowl and sat across from you, digging into his own plate as well.

After a while, you decided to break the comfortable silence when your eyes fell upon the clock hanging just above the door frame, “You have work tomorrow, and it’s getting late. you should probably go.”

“I know you’re a jackass and you’d sleep on an empty stomach if you wanted to, even when you’re sick.” he muttered so casually it almost made you giggle if it weren't for the guilt of forcing him to stay taking over your mind.

“That’s not right!” You started to argue but hissed when your head reminded you that it still got a tornado going on inside of it as it throbbed even harder.

“Stop talking and eat!” he scolded, and you wordlessly complied.

"I'm not leaving until you're tucked into bed and fast asleep," he added in a stern tone after a small pause, making you grin weakly and stuff your face with another spoonful of soup.

"Are you feeling any better?" Once again, yoongi asked after pulling the duvet over your chin. he chose to sit right by your side, on the floor and with his back facing you.

you replied with a muffled hum, barely audible as you were busy gratefully enjoying the softness of your comforter with closed eyes. it felt as though it had some kind of magic that absorbed all the aching tension in your body, allowing you to finally heave a sigh in relief after such a long, tiring day.

"Where's Leo?" you asked.

"probably napping somewhere after his meal."

"You fed him?"

"Of course I did. I'm not like you, forgetting my cat as soon as I get sick." he smirked teasingly.

"I didn't! I knew you were gonna stay, and I trusted you, like I always do." Your voice was only getting weaker and weaker, sleepy as you fought a battle against sleep just to answer your cheeky best friend.

Yoongi only smiled, glancing at you with tinted cheeks. he allowed his gaze to linger just a tad bit more on your closed eyes, nose poking out above the fuzzy blanket and shoulders ever so faintly shivering as the fever still clung onto you. he found the sight so endearing, he chuckled quietly and sighed, "Good to know you do."

"'m so 'ired." You slurred.

"Sleep, darling. I'm right here." was the last thing you heard him say ever so gently before surrendering your powers and drifting into a deep slumber.

Yoongi kept observing as you slept for a while before standing up. He bent down to press one soft kiss on your cheek and another one on your forehead, then walked out of the room with extra efforts not to make any noise and disturb your peaceful night when it had just started.

"Mom is sleeping. Let's hang out in the living room, hmm?" He picked up the fluffy cat that came running towards him as soon as he saw the door opening and kissed his head. heading towards the living room with a small smile on his face.

[themultifandomgal]

Hey I got a request for peaky blinders

So basically tommy is a single dad to a girl she is 2 years old and you got you was I’ll and tommy was in a meeting and you was bored she u walk. In and tommy yelled at you So you run off and started crying you find John and Arthur and told they what happened how u was I’ll and they find tommy to tell him he was a dick about yelling at you then he told u he was sorry

Hope that make sense x

Tommy Shelby- Just Want To Protect You

I hope this is what you wanted.

YN and Tommy haven’t been dating all that long, she knew he was a single dad and his daughter, Mary, came first no matter what. YN also knew that he was a dangerous man, but she didn’t care. To her Tommy was a caring man who loved his family (even if he didn’t show it), all he wanted to do was keep YN and his daughter safe.

Unfortunately Mary had been ill with a cold the last week so while Tommy was in meetings YN would take on the roll of looking after her, however today YN woke up feeling rough. She has a headache, stuffy nose and scratchy throat, but still being a mother figure to the young girl YN takes on the task of looking after her and and house while Tommy is in his office working.

“I want daddy”

“I know” YN replies bouncing the crying girl in her arms “but daddy is busy. Why don’t you take a nap. You might feel better and when you wake up, daddy might be finished”

“Ok” Mary sniffles snuggling into YN’s neck. YN takes Mary to her bedroom and puts her down. She stays with Mary until she’s asleep. Feeling rough herself she decides to go and have a nap herself, however due to her blocked nose and now cough, YN gives up after half an hour.

Making her way down stairs she decides to make herself and Tommy a cup of tea. Feeling bored YN knocks on Tommys office door before walking in

“Hi love, I made you a drink” YN says walking in placing the tea on his desk, Tommy just grunts in response “Mary is asleep, still has this awful cold. I said maybe once she wakes up you’d be finished with work”

“And why would you tell her that?” Tommy looks up to YN

“I just thought that you could have a break, you can sit in your chair and work all the time. Mary misses you”

“I can’t just stop working because Mary wants me to”

“I’m not saying that. You’ve been in here since 6 this morning. It’s now 1 and you’ve not had a break or anything to eat”

“I can’t”

“Fine. Guess I’ll be looking after your sick child all day again”

“I didn’t ask you to”

“Then who will? Your to busy with you fucking businesses to even notice that she’s been crying for you this morning”

“Don’t you swear at me!” Tommy yells standing up “Mary isn’t even your daughter so if she’s so much of a bother why don’t you just go!” Feeling taken back YN takes in what Tommy just said

“Fine” YN replies keeping her tears back.

Asking one of the maids to keep an eye on Mary, YN leaves the house and makes her way to the Garrison where she sees Arthur and John

“YN” John waves his brothers girlfriend over

“Hi” she sadly says

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s our brother done this time?” Arthur sighs

“It’s just that, I don’t feel well but ive been taking care of his daughter who’s also ill. When I told him to have a break from work he just blew up”

“Our brother is an idiot YN, I’ll speak with him” John replies

“No don’t. He will know I’ve spoken to you and he will probably have a fit. I’m gonna get a drink”

That evening YN sits her home with a book in her hands, when there is a knock at her door. Putting her book down she heads over feeling confused to who could be at her front door. Opening it up there is Tommy holding flowers in his hands

“I’m a dick I know. I’m sorry”

“You better come in” YN opens up her door wider so Tommy could enter “where’s Mary?”

“At home. Ada has her. I know I shouldn’t have shouted at you, your ill and been looking after my daughter. You didn’t have to but you did. I just get so scared when it comes to you and Mary. I just want to keep you safe and we have a problem with the business. I didn’t want you involved, I didn’t want to worry you”

“Tom, I’m your girlfriend. If we want this to work you can’t shut me out”

“I know I know. Arthur and John knocked some sense into me. Let me make it up to you. Let me cook supper for you. Treat you like a queen”

“I’d like that” YN smiles.

[friendly-neighbourhood-wet-cat]

Guys what if I did a thing.

Biker!Red and Rich Girl!Chloe au

TW just in case: Implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced gun violence, minor descriptions of injuries.

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The Isle and Auradon are two neighbourhoods, separated because Auradon's mayor, Beast, doesn't trust a single person in the Isle.

Chloe is a part of the Charming Family, owners of the most successful company in Auradon. However, she doesn't want to be. She loathes the idea of everyone treating her like a dumb little rich girl who isn't capable of taking care of herself.

So, she sneaks out.

She secretly goes to parties in the Isle almost every night, craving the adrenaline rush that comes with disobeying her parents. But one night, Chloe gets a Iittle too bold.

She drinks too much, and before she could even blink, some random dude was pinning her to the wall of a secluded hallway, and touching her a little too confidently.

Enter Red.

She has been here for a whole excruciating hour, pointedly avoiding her mother while also working out a money deal for her. She was waiting for the guy to come when she heard a hushed argument coming from a nearby hallway.

As soon as she sees what's going on, Red threatens the guy to let go, and he only does so when she flashes the revolver tucked in her pants.

All Chloe can do is stare up at her saviour as she asks if she's okay, too drunk and gay to say anything. Chloe calls her brother, Chad, to pick her up since he's the only person who knows about her nightly endeavours.

The two talk for a bit, and Chloe finds out that maybe she isn't as educated on the world as she thought she was.

She finds out that everyone in the Isle is suffering, whether it be horrible living conditions, gun violence, abusive home situations, or anything else.

As the mysterious (and very attractive) biker walks away, she recognises the symbol on the back of her black leather jacket.

The Wonderland Gang.

An infamous biker gang that meddled in illegal activities, but the cops were too scared of them to do anything.

Red's mother, Bridget, was the leader is this gang, known by everyone else as the Queen of Hearts.

Contrary to popular belief, Bridget was actually a good mother. She and Red just didn't see eye to eye on most things, and then there was also the responsibility of keeping up their reputation.

Chloe didn't dare tell her parents about her encounter with the biker, knowing they would most likely never let her out of the house again. So, she simply tried to forget about it.

That didn't work, obviously.

She kept having dreams about the girl, it seemed like she couldn't get her out of her head. Her brother was too smug as he watched her fall apart, knowing exactly how uselessly gay his sister was.

A painful week later, as she was walking home from another night out, her wishes were answered.

She heard someone coughing in an alleyway. The coughs sounded like a wet gurgle, making Chloe sick to her stomach. She looked for the person frantically, and eventually found them slumped over a dumpster.

Lo and behold, it was her.

Her face was badly bruised, and with the way she held herself, Chloe guessed her ribs were, too.

She immediately got her out of the alley, and walked her to her house. Initially, her parents were hesitant, but after seeing the state Red was in, they knew she needed help.

Red woke up the next day in Chloe's bed, panicked and wary.

Chloe calmed her down and explained the situation, to which Red replied that she had to go or her mother would kill her.

Chloe didn't want to let her go - whether it was because she was still injured, or because she simply liked her presence, she didn't know - but Red couldn't be stopped. As she was about to hop out of the window and climb down to the ground, she gave Chloe one last look.

"The name's Red, by the way."

-

Aaaand, that's all I got! Obviously, I'm not guaranteeing that I'm gonna write this, since school is starting very soon, but if enough people beg me, I might try something. Hope you enjoyed this!

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I just recently discovered your blog and I’m in love with your Spencer fic’s. :)) Could you perchance write one where reader is sick and Spencer takes care of her??

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 792 words

“I’m fine,” you croak. 

“You’re not fine,” says Spencer, stirring honey into your tea. “You let this go too long without resting, and now it’s bad.” 

You inhale, looking like you’re going to disagree, but a coughing fit supersedes you. The force of it bends you over, and Spencer rubs your back, wincing. You sound like you’re hacking up a lung.

“Okay,” you say once you can, still coughing weakly. “You’re right, I’m dying.” 

“You’re not dying either.” A smile tugs at his lips. “You just need to rest. Is anything bothering you, other than your throat?” 

You shake your head. 

Spencer eyes you skeptically, passing over your tea. You’re infamous for this sort of downplaying. You’d been so good at covering up that you were feeling sick that even your FBI profiler boyfriend hadn’t been able to spot it until a couple of days ago, and even then you’d managed to convince him it was mild enough to go to work until he’d heard you coughing in the shower this morning. Spencer still isn’t sure if, when he’d come home today to find you flushed and miserable in the bed, you’d gotten worse or only stopped hiding it. 

 “Really, nothing?” he asks. “You don’t have any other symptoms?” 

You shrug. “Just other normal sick stuff.” 

“Tell me about them. How do you feel?” 

You frown, blowing on your tea. “Hot and dry. I feel like my entire body needs chapstick. And I’m tired, I guess.” 

Spencer frowns. He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers stoke down your overwarm cheek. “You look terrible,” he says. 

You snort. Your cough latches onto it as an opportunity, and you launch into another fit. “Ow,” you wheeze, putting a hand to your chest. “Thanks, you’re really—really wooing me, Spence.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” he laughs, somewhat nervously. “I just meant that you look so sad, honey. I don’t like seeing you so sick.” 

“Me neither,” you admit. You take a scratchy breath in, deep as you can without it catching. You look like you’re savoring it. 

He feels his eyebrows draw together compassionately. “You should try to sleep.” 

“It’s barely six. I don’t want to sleep.” 

“You don't have to wait until it’s late to go to sleep. It might make you feel better.” 

“I know, I just…I don’t want to.” 

Spencer looks at you for a while, thinking of what to do with you. Your tea is still too hot to drink. He’d bought you cough drops on his way home, but you’d already had so many throughout the day that now you say they’re making your mouth feel sore and raw, and you don’t want to take them if you can help it. Maybe he could have you gargle saltwater…

“You should stay at your place tonight,” you tell him gently. “I don’t want to get you sick.” 

He knew you would say that. He’s practically moved into your apartment, though he keeps his basically as a storage unit at this point. Whereas Spencer has filled his apartment with enough things for one person (one towel hook in the bathroom, one nightstand, only one really good pillow on the bed), your apartment looks like you’ve always assumed you’d eventually share it. The first time Spencer came over, you already had fuzzy socks for guests, enough towels for an army, and two really, really great pillows on the bed. It made him realize that his apartment was really just a place to sleep; yours was a home. He never wants to leave, but certainly not while you’re like this.

“I won’t get sick,” he lies. (He definitely will. He’s already been exposed to you for days already and his immune system has never had his back.) “And anyway, how will I teach you chess from my apartment?” 

You groan. 

“This is really the best time,” Spencer says, going into the living room to grab the chess board you’d let him keep here. “You’ll never have more free time than when you’re sick. And this way, you won’t get bored.” 

“Sure about that?” you ask wryly as he comes back in, but you’re smiling. 

“Unless you want to try to sleep?” 

You look like you’re actually considering it. “When I was little and I got sick, I used to play mad libs.” 

Spencer feels his face screw up. “I don’t really like that game. They never make any sense at the end.” 

“That’s the point,” you laugh. A weak cough follows it. “Anyway, I’m sick. I promise I’ll let you teach me to play chess soon.” 

“You’re sick,” he allows, setting the chess board on the floor. Not that you don’t get what you want the rest of the time anyway.