#and i am a sucker for some hurt/comfort

[owl-with-a-pen]

okay but another angsty thing re: Brainy and sleeping, what if he wakes up from a nap or something in the Tower soon after the season 5 finale and thinks he's still in that room with the radiation poisoning him (like maybe he has a nightmare about that), so someone has to calm him down and bring him back to reality

If the 3,000+ word count wasn't a dead giveaway, I had some fun with this one 😉

If Nia was certain of anything, it was that Brainy was going to crash real soon. He’d been looking pale ever since they’d returned from the Fortress, and there was no way in hell she could ignore the feverish heat that had prickled from his skin while her face had been buried so snugly against his throat. He hadn’t said anything then, but when they’d eventually picked themselves up from the lab’s floor, Brainy had been ready to drop long before they made it to the elevator. Without Nia's guiding hand, he never would have made it to the loft in one piece.

By the time they were hunkered down on a sofa in the Tower’s living nook, tablet balanced precariously between them, one of J’onn’s blankets folded over their knees, Brainy been close to passing out entirely. The only thing that stopped him was his relentless focus on the task at hand.

Every now and then, Nia caught his eyes as they worked a path across the data she’d been able to draw up from their borrowed intel downloaded from the Fortress’s supercomputer. It wasn’t much, but between the Tower, Legion and Kryptonian archive, they had a halfway decent snapshot of what the Phantom Zone might entail.

Finding Kara, though? That was the tricky part.

Nia’s heart hurt every time she thought about it – of Kara lost and alone in that place. She’d once described it to her as worse than hell. A terrifying purgatory where nightmares held a tangible presence.

No one had gone home that night. Nia lost track of Alex some point past midnight when Lena appeared with enough Big Belly Burger to feed a small army. Her best guess was that she’d retreated downstairs in the commotion to get first dibs on J’onn’s intergalactic coffee machine. They could’ve all used the kick right about now, and any other night Nia would’ve been shouldering her way to the front of the line.  

But coffee wasn’t going to cut it today. Besides, shoulder-to-shoulder with Brainy was exactly where she needed to stay. Maybe he hadn’t been eager to share anything out loud, but when he’d refused to eat any of Lena’s generous offerings, Nia had known what was up.

The nanites were starting to hit back. Hard.

She could survive without the caffeine, she rationalised. Maybe it was a good thing. She’d been doing pretty much anything to deny sleep for the last few months, hating herself whenever she slipped into a dream with Brainy as the centrepiece, goading her even in the deepest corners of her subconscious. She’d spent so long convincing herself that it was all in her head, that it was her grief and guilt that had conjured him up as her eternal tormenter. Knowing the truth of it still stung, an ache that went bone-deep, but that pain had started to ease the moment she’d locked her pinkie with his.

She wasn’t sure how easy she’d sleep now, but she knew that she couldn’t ignore the tug of the dream realm any longer. It was the only place she could figure any of this out, no matter how uncertain she felt. Besides, she wasn’t alone this time. She had Brainy back on her team, his promise to her as unbreakable as steel, and knowing that made everything feel just a little lighter.  

Nia wasn’t surprised when the words on the tablet began to blur into an incomprehensible muddle, the lull of her unconscious mind far too pressing of a force to refuse. Soon, she was lost to that darkness, pulled dizzyingly fast towards the threads of a dream already spun partway together.

Sometimes, her dreams came to her in quick successive flashes - other times they settled into specific locations, familiar or alien alike.

The room she awoke to was hazy, shimmering with rippling heat that rose in waves from the surface of the ground, enough that she couldn’t see a thing inside it. There was light, though, a deep orange spectacle that shone from somewhere close to the floor.

Before she could even try to understand where she was, pain like nothing she’d ever experienced erupted across her skin. It didn’t have a source, rather it radiated from all-round. It was a tangible pressure, raw and harsh, a laser point fixed solely on her that bypassed clothes and flesh alike, blistering straight to blood and bone. Her limbs felt like lead wherever it penetrated, targeting her joints until she folded with a swallowed scream to the floor. Nia’s chest held stiff, refusing to draw in the air she suddenly, desperately needed.

Because every breath burned - worse than the last - as though her lungs were lacerating inside her ribs. She gritted her teeth like she was biting down on leather, the sting of her tears sizzling to vapour before they even had a chance to fall.

What was this place her mind screamed, that too sounding warped and winded to her ears. Her dreams had certainly terrified her before, but they’d never hurt her like this. Like they could kill.

Nia gasped, gripping for her throat when the pressure of the air thickened inside her mouth, scalding her tongue. She could nearly taste it, bitter like battery acid, sharp like blood. Something about that taste was familiar to her, like when she’d overexerted her powers or…

No… there was something else. Because she had felt this before. Just for a second. Just before…

Before she’d been thrown from Leviathan’s ship.

Leviathan.

That didn’t make sense. If that was what her dream was trying to tell her, it’d missed the mark by a mile. The ship was gone – Leviathan along with it. No amount of pain could convince her otherwise. And if that was true, then there was nothing left of this dream that could hold a connection to the future.

How could her dream prophesise something that no longer existed?

Just as Nia had forced another breath through her bubbling lungs, bracing herself for the pain that would follow, she heard something. A sound that cut through the fog in her mind, that made everything suddenly so clear.

A soft, barely audible whimper from across the room.

Nia curled her hands into fists, jerking against the molten metal that greeted her knuckles, and looked up. Beyond the stifling power of Leviathan’s radiation, she could see the shape of a person pressed up against the console of the furthest edge of the room. She blinked against the stinging in her eyes, realising that the orange light she’d seen before had been coming from there. Now, that glow sharpened into something starker, closer matching the pale hair it illuminated – pasted against the jawline of a very familiar green face.

Nia’s eyes widened in shock, gasping his name.

Brainy sat with his knees drawn towards his chest, his body curved protectively around an object cradled closely to his centre. Even while she watched, Nia could see the spasmodic convulses of his chest as he tried to draw in breath, quickly followed by a barely muted cry of pain when the radiation crept in instead; his teeth an off-white smear fixed into permanent misery.

Nia’s heart twisted hard enough to outweigh her own pain. Because… it wasn’t her pain. It never had been. She’d never been inside the ship long enough to feel its true effect. None of them had.

None except…

Brainy. Of course this was Brainy’s dream. She wasn’t inside a vision at all. In her exhausted confusion, she must have slipped right into Brainy’s mind.

It was rare – rarer than rare, actually. But sometimes it could happen. If she and Brainy were tired enough, if they hadn’t been thinking, or even if they were thinking too much, then…

It hadn’t happened in so long, though. It couldn’t. They would have needed to share each other’s space, each other’s bed…

Now a new pain fluttered in her heart, an ache she thought she’d begun to remedy. But it had become such an old pain now, something that had fused itself to her after months of grief and frustration and anger.

In a way, this place was that and more. She’d never seen Brainy’s mind palace after he’d taken off the inhibitors, never experienced his dreams with his true self restored. And despite the heaviness of this place, the colours here were more vibrant, every light source so bright they could have been blinding. There was a sound beyond the buzz of the radiation, one that thrummed at the base of Nia's skull like old whispers, slipping in and out of audibility between every laboured pant of Brainy’s chest.

He looked like he had in the vision Nia had seen not a few hours earlier – when he’d collapsed to the ground after absorbing all that targeted radiation.

Ten minutes had already been too much for him, and those ten had turned into fifteen, twenty—it had taken Nia far too long to make it down there. And then, even after she’d found him, she hadn’t been quick enough, hadn’t had the power or natural immunity to drag him to safety.

It could have killed him. It should have. Nia’s dreams had been right to make her feel that way. This was to as near-death as she could have experienced without being in Brainy’s place.

And, for whatever reason, Brainy’ subconscious had decided to drag him right back here.

Now she was beginning to understand the rules of this dream, Nia realised that the radiation didn’t hold the same power over her. With a deep breath, she drew her shoulders together, pushing herself back onto her haunches. The radiation still barrelled at her, but now it held the potency of a soft breeze, nothing she couldn’t push past.

It wasn’t her pain, she reminded herself. And the more she thought that, the easier it became to ignore it. Soon she was back on her feet, crossing the room as easily as Kara or J’onn had made it look when they’d crashed inside.  

Nia didn’t stop walking until she was crouched at Brainy’s side. His chest was rising and falling in short, breathless exhales, too weak to draw in the air he needed. His head was tipped skyward, lips parted into a strained grimace.

At first, she wondered if this was some sort of punishment he'd conjured himself, a side-effect from all the guilt he’d been harbouring over the last few months.

That was until she realised what it was that he was holding so tightly in his arms, and how quickly he flinched away from her when she tried to reach for it herself.

“N-no,” Brainy whined, a panicked sound. He shook his head vehemently, curling even further into himself, obscuring the bottle from sight. The yellow hue it gave off was unmistakable, painting his face a sickly shade. His expression contorted again when more pain rolled through him, trails of salt staining his cheeks. “I-I can’t let go, I-I can’t let him win.”

“Brainy, it’s okay,” Nia said as gently as she could manage, sidling in closer to him. She kept her hands a practiced mark from the bottle, hovering steadfast. “You’re dreaming, okay? But I can help. Take my hand.”

Brainy whimpered, a strangled sound catching in his throat as fresh tears flooded his blood-stained eyes. “N-no,” he croaked. “Lex’ll – I can’t – or-or Kara will—”

Nia’s heart broke for him. This wasn’t about punishment; in his delirious state of mind, Brainy must have brought himself back to the moment just before Lex had stolen the bottle from him.

No matter what she’d told him back in the waking world, it hadn’t been enough to relieve him of his guilt. Not in the way he needed. But she knew this wasn’t going to help him, either.  The whispers in the air were as thick as the radiation shield itself, droning from every corner, warping into nothing but a mechanised garble.

He wasn’t going to go willingly, she knew that, and Nia was too afraid that taking him by force might make things worse.

Looked like she’d have to do things the old-fashioned way.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Wildcat,” Nia murmured, closing her eyes, losing sight of the prison Brainy had designed for himself as quickly as she’d entered.

Nia only felt a drifting impression of Brainy’s consciousness before she was back in the waking world. When she blinked her eyes open, she was inside the Tower again, with the real Brainy pressed tightly to her side.

His golden hair was slick to his forehead with sweat, his eyes skirting uncertainly behind closed lids as he muttered fretfully in his sleep. Some of the words were English, others held the mechanised characteristics of fluent Coluan. There was another language, too, one that overlapped the others, far separate from anything she’d heard him speak before.

She recognised it though, the ancient consonants that rolled from his tongue even while he was under such duress. It was the same language he’d spoken with Rama Khan. The language of the gods.

He was still bartering with Leviathan somewhere deep down, trying in his own way to fix his mistakes. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. All ears, but hers.

Suddenly, Brainy whimpered again, a sob catching him so hard that Nia worried he’d choke. He clawed at her front with weak fingers, lashes fluttering beneath layers of delirium.

She knew she had to wake him, but it was still a delicate procedure even outside of the dream realm. Carefully, Nia wound her arm around Brainy’s back, clutching the fibres of his suit, securing him against her side as she ran her free hand over his chest. Brainy didn’t fight her, instead he buried his nose into her throat, his clammy skin cold and fervid at the same time. She could feel the sting of his life projectors even from a distance, prickling across her gloves as she searched for his frequency, bringing it into step with her own.

Usually, once she’d found a target, that’d be her cue to drag them into a sleep they’d have a hell of a time coming back from. Now, she sought that power in reverse, pulling back on her usual gift so that she could dispel a dream sequence rather than enforce it. Blue energy swirled from Nia’s fingertips, coalescing with the white of Brainy’s central projector, knocking on the fragile door of his unconscious mind.

When that door creaked open, she let her energy soar, illuminating all that had been buried so that it might rise to the surface unimpeded.

She felt the tug of his consciousness before he woke, and when Brainy shot forward in the confusion that followed, Nia was there to steady him, pressing her hand reassuringly into his centre, trying to draw in on the pleasant fog that often accompanied a nap post-waking.

But peace like that couldn’t be manufactured.  

“N-n-no—” Brainy gasped, choking hard enough that it induced a coughing fit so violent he nearly retched from the strain.

Nia held him steady, worried that he was about to make himself sick. She rubbed his back, soothing him with breathless reassurances while simultaneously mapping out the closest trash can in case she needed to make an emergency dive for it.

“It’s okay,” she said, a gentle murmur in his ear. “It was just a nightmare, Brainy. You’re safe.”

But even as she said it, she couldn’t be sure that it was true. The sweat on Brainy’s brow wasn’t just a result of his nightmare. As Nia rocked in time with him, she could feel his body convulse against her with shudders that he was powerless to quell. He was burning up, his eyes glazed and fever stricken.

He was sick. Sicker than she’d ever seen him, and there was nothing she could do to take that pain away.

She felt useless.

Then, miraculously, Nia heard a creak on the floorboards and suddenly Alex’s head popped into view. Her eyes held an exhaustion that went way beyond the physical, but just seeing her made the knot in Nia’s stomach loosen. Nia shifted Brainy’s weight in her arms, holding him tightly as the coughing fit finally abated and he slouched with a groan into her shoulder. She desperately wanted to warm him with her energy, but that probably wasn’t the right call when he was already burning like a furnace against her side.

“Hey, hey, I heard the commotion,” Alex said, her expression serious as she took stock of the situation. Habitually, she rolled up her sleeves. “What happened?”

“He had a nightmare,” Nia said, trying to sound stronger than she felt. “I barely got him out of there. He was dreaming of Leviathan’s ship again, of being trapped in that room—”

Alex sighed before Nia had even finished talking, leaning heavily into the arm of the sofa. “I was afraid this might happen,” she admitted. Her eyes flickered back to Brainy sympathetically. “He’s put up a good fight so far, but that radiation did a number on him. Whether he likes it or not, those nanites are going to have to run their course.” She pressed her hand to the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Damnit. I shouldn’t’ve called him to the Fortress. I just got desperate. I-I thought that maybe he could reverse the projector if we did it fast enough. That Kara—”

Her voice warbled over her sister’s name and Nia immediately reached out to take Alex’s arm, meeting her eye firmly. “Don’t blame yourself,” she said. “You and I both know he would’ve come either way.” Nia was forced to let go of Alex when a particularly harsh shudder ran down Brainy’s spine, all but immobilising him. He tensed against her before groaning out, wrapping his arms tightly around his front, obscuring the wavering flicker of his central projector.

When he was able to open his eyes again, he saw Nia first. “N-Nia?” he croaked, his voice so stricken it hurt. He shook his head, barely able to articulate himself. “You c-can’t be here—t-the radiation.”

“Hey, hey,” Nia soothed, taking his face, running her nails beneath his jaw. She drew his eyes up to meet hers. He felt so delicate in her grasp, as fragile as cracked glass. “It was just a nightmare. We’re at the Tower, remember?”

Brainy bared his teeth, his dark eyes flashing with fresh tears. He ducked his chin into her cupped palm. “B-but it hurts.”

“Oh honey, I know,” Nia said, her own eyes stinging as she let Brainy fold fully against her. His pulse raged in his forehead, beating an obscure pattern into the base of her throat. He was crying again, his tears dousing the collar of her suit, but even that was too taxing on him now. He’d slip back into restless sleep sooner or later, whether that would be better for him had yet to be proven. She looked up at Alex desperately. “Can we give him another dose of those nanites? Maybe that’ll—”

But Alex was already shaking her head. “They’re doing their job,” she said. “I know it looks rough, and it is, but I promise he’s healing, Nia. He just has to ride this out.”

Nia closed her eyes, pressing her cheek into his damp hair. “He’s in so much pain.”

“I know,” Alex said softly. She sighed, crouching down so that she could run the back of her hand against Brainy's cheek. When he didn't stir, she stood, jerking her head towards the elevator. “Look, I’m gonna get Lena’s portal watch from downstairs. It’s the quickest way to get him home so that he can sleep this off safely.”

Nia could only nod. It didn’t feel like she was even fully there anymore. A part of her consciousness had tied itself far too deeply with Brainy’s pain, maybe from the moment she’d first slipped into his nightmare.

She hardly heard Alex when she asked, “One last thing; do you know where he’s calling home these days?”

Despite that, she didn’t hesitate. “My apartment,” Nia said, wiping the tears from her eyes in an automatic gesture. She sobered as she stared at the moisture on her fingers, for a second unsure whether it had come from her face or Brainy’s. She glanced up again. “He’ll be safe there,” she explained, before hastening to add, “besides, I can’t leave him alone like this.”

Alex’s expression was warm. She glanced between Brainy and Nia knowingly, an eyebrow half raised. “Are you two…?”

“We’re figuring things out,” Nia said. As if on cue, Brainy made a soft sound against her, desperately nuzzling into her throat, a crackly hum easing from his chest. His breath was hot and welcoming, his lips brushing her skin without being fully conscious of the act. Even still, Nia felt her face warm.

“Looks like it’s going well,” Alex noted with a smirk. It was the first time Nia had seen her smile since they’d lost Kara. It was a tired smile, sure, but if nothing else, she was glad she could offer Alex at least that. Even if it did come at her own expense.

Alex winked before she turned away. “I’ll get the watch.”

“Thank you.”

Nia waited for Alex nervously, her fingers tugging gently through Brainy’s sweat soaked hair. When his eyes fluttered open again and he found her so instinctively, she kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger on his clammy skin. He tasted of salt and metal.

“Hold on, Wildcat,” she murmured. “You’ll be home soon.”

Home. The word had come out so easily, but the moment she said it, she knew it was the truth. She didn’t want Brainy anywhere else. Not tonight, not ever again. And as he sagged gratefully into her embrace, lowering his head with the barest hint of acknowledgement, she knew that he felt the same.

[money-and-dandellions]

Lester is the type of guy who would fall asleep with his hair put up in a ponytail/braid (a tight one) and then complain about how his head hurts in the morning

[noodlemoondle]

You Always Come First

(No matter how upset I am)

Zayne x Reader

summary: you and zayne have a small spat over you neglecting your health. as a result of it, you decide to sleep on the couch, not wanting to bother/upset him even further. randomly waking up in the night, you notice you’re no longer alone on the couch and do everything you can to get the doctor back in bed before he’s sore for his shift tomorrow.

tags: not proofread!, hurt/comfort? (i didn’t rlly include the hurt part of it so im not too sure), fluff, literal sleeping together, caring n sweet zayne (when is he not), self indulgent per usual

a/n: bro tumblr is REALLY testing my patience. why is it so dumb with everything i try to post. it’s literally why i haven’t posted a fic in a while. i can’t take this much longer i may crash out soon. anyway, as always hope u enjoy! (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

side tangent: i actually have been so obsessed with caleb. it’s actually a problem. i have been loyal to zayne this entire time and i’ve been playing since release, but caleb is REALLY testing it. lord i’m a sucker for the protective n caring childhood friends to lovers trope (¯―¯٥) (id expect a caleb fic soon tbh if tumblr wants to stop hating me and making my life so difficult)

the fight was stupid. you were neglecting your health once again not taking your medicine, not resting, and ignoring doctors specific orders. zayne often could never say no to you, he always spoiled you and gave into any of your requests. the only time he was stern and stubborn was when it involved your health, that he doesn’t and will never budge on. you often lacked care for your health, pushing it to the back burners of your mind and often calling zayne dramatic saying “you knew yourself and your limits”. something zayne wasn’t particularly fond of. he confronted you about your recent negligence of your health and both of your stubbornness in your beliefs led to an argument.

it’s been an hour or 2 since it ended though. zayne left to your shared bedroom, most likely to do some work, while you stayed out in the living area, trying to distract yourself from the anger turning to sadness and guilt in your heart. you ended up deciding to just sleep on the couch tonight not wanting to bother him after an argument. you grabbed an extra pillow and thin blanket from a nearby closet and put on a random show so you wouldn’t have to fall asleep listening to your own thoughts. soon enough you were able to relax and fall into a slumber.

you don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep. you hear the tv still on as you slowly wake and become aware of your surroundings. once you can see clearly, that’s when you realize you were laying on top of zayne previously using his chest as a pillow unbeknownst to you. he has been peacefully sleeping on the couch with you for who knows how long. as you sat up in a panic you also notice a thicker, softer blanket, one you have preference for, falling off of your shoulders. instantly guilt is washed over you as you look at zayne, who is a somewhat light sleeper, somehow still deep in his sleep. you swallow quickly as you build confidence to wake him up.

you lean closer to his face which was awkwardly propped up by the couch’s arm rest, a position that you couldn’t imagine to be anywhere near comfortable. you lightly tap his shoulder and call his name trying to wake him up. soon enough he does, opening his eyes to see you staring back at him, the faintest smile appears on his face at the sight, almost forgetting of the spat you two shared earlier. before he could even say anything you scold him:

“why are you here? i was sleeping on the couch tonight. you have work early in the morning go back to bed and go to sleep.”

“couldn’t have you sore in the morning” he answers calmly releasing a small yawn in the process.

“neither can you! you have a long shift starting early tomorrow. i’ll be fine just go back to bed.” you quickly rebutted trying to push him off the couch, something that you didn’t have the strength to do, but nevertheless you persisted.

“i can get through a shift with an achy neck, however you can not.” he replies as he softly grabs your hands that are trying to shove him away back to bed.

“i know i’ll be fine. i’ll live to see another day. now go back to bed already!” you say. your voice getting louder as you’re starting to get frustrated trying to break out of his soft grasp.

“will you be joining me?” he asks softly not letting go of your wrists that keep trying to fight against him.

“no, i’m sleeping on the couch!” your voice raising above the tv still playing in the back illuminating the room.

“then it seems like i shall too” he states as he frees your wrists and pushes you back onto his chest, laying the blanket over you both.

before you can even think of a response zayne wraps his arms around your torso and closes his eyes to fall asleep once again, to which you quickly flick his chest to wake him back up. he opens his eyes again and looks down at you with an unamused expression.

“why won’t you just let me sleep here alone?” you ask in a tone he can’t quite place, nevertheless he can hear the slight amount sorrow that came along with it.

“i already told you, i can’t have you go into work tomorrow with a sore neck and back.” he says closing his eyes again despite your wishes against it.

“if you don’t wish to be with me tonight then i’ll sleep on the couch and you can take the bed” he continues. his arms involuntarily tighten ever so slightly around you showing how much he doesn’t want that.

“but i also told you!!! you can’t sleep on the couch, you have a few surgeries to complete, and you have to be in your best shape to do so.” you try to push up against his arms wrapped around you, another pointless action.

zayne sighs and opens his eyes again to look at you before speaking.

“well then you have two options. one, we both move over to the bed to sleep. or two, i sleep here and you sleep over in the room. my job isn’t physically taxing compared to yours, im not allowing you to go in if you don’t have a proper rest.”

he looks tired. you study his features before you respond to him. taking a moment to look at the eyebags under his eyes and a slight frustration growing in his face from this back and forth.

you sigh before answering “then to the bed we go”

a soft smile appears on zaynes face as he begins to get up. his neck slightly sore, but he wouldn’t reveal that to you. although it’s against your wishes, he lifts you up having you hold the blanket and pillow as he carries you back to bed.

he sets you down on your side of the bed, thinking you won’t necessarily want to be close with him tonight. not before tucking you in and kissing the top of your head whispering his love and goodnight wishes. as he gets into bed you turn to face him. once he fully lays down you scootch closer to him and grab onto the hem of his shirt. he instantly understands what you want and pulls you towards him, pressing you to his side as he wraps his arms around you.

he kisses your forehead once more and whispers

“we will continue our discussion after work tomorrow. goodnight, i love you.”

too tired to argue with him anymore you just nod your head against him replying quietly mouth squished against him making your words barely audible.

“goodnight, love you too”

[dooberific]

Hiiiiiii!! Can I ask for Harumasa x Reader angst? They are lovers and the reader is also Harumasa's colleague. Then the reader got commissioned(?) to fight hollows but she got stuck in that place and (idk if they went to fight hollows alone but for this request, they have like underlings(?) that would go with them for the mission) the people/fighters that the reader went with to the hollows came back heavily injured and Harumasa saw that the reader is not there with them. That is all hehe, it's up to you if you want the reader to be found or if they would be a hollow and Harumasa has to fight them knowing that that is the reader (I'm a sucker for angst)

Take your time doing this request and stay healthy, dear author!

Anon….who hurt you on Christmas? 😭. Hope this is close to what you were envisioning!

❝ 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: hurt no comfort, major character death

summary: it was supposed to be a routine mission, now he’s left to pick up the pieces

wc: 2.3k

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

He hoped you were the sentimental kind, your voice warbled over the line from the outpost in his ear as he smiled. “I’m just saying to be careful is all.” He asserted, fingers running aimlessly over the silver band resting in his palm. Your initials and his were cut into the inside. 

It was supposed to be your day off, the first you had taken in several months, but when H.A.N.D phoned you that they needed your section of the HSO to assemble for a rescue mission after a Defense Force team had vanished inside of Hollow Zero, well….you didn’t get the luxury of saying no, even if you were the Chief. 

“When am I not careful? Remember which one of us you’re talking to here, Haru.” You chided, the smile on your face so present he could hear it change the lilt of your voice. 

“Right, right, I’m talking to my beautiful, kind, intelligent and all around perfect girlfriend~” Though he hoped that title would be changing very soon, as he held the ring up to the light, the sun filtering through the window of your shared apartment dancing enticingly over its surface. 

You giggled in his ear, the sound warming him to the soul. He could practically see the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled in delight.  “That’s much better.”

The interference in the background of the call amplified, faint callings of your name cutting through the static. You sounded disappointed. “Sorry Haru, I gotta go.”

“It’s okay baby, duty calls. Just try to be home for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t miss a date night for the world, you better not peek in the closet while I’m gone! I want that dress to be a pleasant surprise later.” 

You fell quiet again as you pulled the receiver away from your mouth, yelling a response into the background. “They’re about to have an aneurysm over here,” you huffed. 

“I love you, Haru~”

“I love you too, (y/n)~”

That was a little after noon. It was now nearing midnight and the outpost was crawling with H.A.N.D uniforms and HSO stragglers. Countless outpost scientists shouldered through the crowd, chiming off readings and acting as if they just had a some great scientific breakthrough.

But you were still inside of Hollow Zero.

And H.A.N.D was beginning to withdraw. 

Even flashing his Section 6 badge failed to get him answers despite his insistence, earning little more than the shake of a head and a “this is above your paygrade, kid.”

They threatened to court martial  him if he kept accosting them. But they didn’t have you inside the Hollow like he did. The epitome of his happiness, the one he swore hung the moon and stars, his most constant companion, and the only one he could imagine waking up beside of until the day he expired. 

They didn’t have you, but they had the version of you that made their actions palatable. The “good soldier” and “valiant leader”. The slave to a public that didn’t care to know your name even as you shouldered their burdens as ceaselessly as atlas held the heavens. The one who signed up for a death job.

A chorus of shouts erupted, the flash of the medical units blazing to life under the white spotlights. 

Survivors.

He shouldered his way through the swell of the crowd with little regard for those he pushed aside. In a perfect world he would break from the crowd and see you standing there, a little worse for wear but alive and smiling like you just cheated the world. You would push past the medic teams as they chased you down to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips as you gloated playfully.

“See? What’d I tell you? Safe and sound.” 

But you weren’t there. A cluster of five soldiers stumbled through the outer bounds of the Hollow—no, those weren’t soldiers, they were members of your faction carrying the torn uniforms of Defense Force operatives. They dripped with blood and grime, corruption marring their skin as they limped out, half-dragging others.

“Hey!” He yelled over the roar of the crowd as he grabbed one of them by the shoulder. His name badge shined under the lights. Kimura.

 “Where’s your chief?”

The man shoved his hand away, “Get off me man!”

He didn’t know where he got the strength as he grappled with Kimura before taking two fistfuls of his collar. “Where’s your fucking Chief? Where’s (y/n)?!” 

Multiple pairs of hands tore at his uniform from behind as they hauled him off, legs kicking as he wrestled against their pull.

“Where is she?”

“She’s stayed behind!” 

Kimura’s face was blank, his eyes distant and foggy as he stared at the ground. There were tears streaming down his face as he drew a ragged breath. “I’ve never seen so many ethereals, we were overran so quickly…Chief (l/n) and Deputy Chief Kato created a diversion to draw them away so we could get out.”

Kimura looked up with red rimmed eyes.

“I am so sorry.”

Hollow Zero had mutated. Or that was the story they were telling everyone now. The sensors at the outpost had registered a dramatic spike in etheric energy about 30 minutes after Section 2 had infiltrated, and by the next 20 the bangboo that accompanied you had stumbled out with fried circuits, the carrot it followed now expired as the interior of the hollow rearranged. 

It was supposed to be a standard recovery operation. You had done them hundreds of times in the past.

“I’m sorry, Asaba. My hands are tied.” The officer said with a shake of his head. “No one’s allowed in unless they are operating with their faction. You’re the only one from Section 6 here.”

He gripped his bow tighter. “Then I suggest you turn around and pretend you didn’t see me then.” 

It felt like an electric current thrummed under his skin as he breached the Hollow. He didn’t bother to call the proxy or wait for the association to form a new carrot. There was no point, even as desperately as he clinged to the idea of you being unharmed, alive, there was still a rotten crawl of doubt in the back of his mind that made the thought of wandering forever as an ethereal within Hollow Zero a more palatable choice than leaving here without you. 

He didn’t know how long he had wandered through the hollow, hair matted to his forehead from sweat as he cleared another broken wall, trying to survey as much of the warped landscape as he could. He doubled over, hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He had overextended himself already, his chest constricted tightly as his breathing became shallow, a sharp ringing in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on getting his lungs back under control.

In and out.

In and out.

There was a distant cry that met his ears, strangled and distorted, one that twisted his gut in an iron grip as his head shot up.

You.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find when he fumbled over the rubble in your direction. Finding you was the sole focus of his mind for the past few hours, the rush of adrenaline carrying his mind past rational thought.

You. You. You.

It urged his tired legs forward, kept him standing as he rounded the corner and saw the torn back of your uniform jacket stretched unnaturally over your crumpled form. 

Even with your back to him he would have recognized you anywhere, even as your body contorted unnaturally, muscles spasming wildly as a distorted cry pierced the air. Your hands clawed as the ground, ugly black shards piercing your skin from within, nailbeds black and bloody where your fingertips had rubbed raw in the dirt.

He knew better than to approach you, to roll you to your back as your body seized and writhed in his grasp, more warbled cries piercing the air.

Your eyes were glassy and unfocused as his hands cupped your cheeks. Your skin was hot to the touch, corruption running thickly in your veins and curling out of your skin like ugly black horns. 

He shushed you gently, cradling your head in his arms as your hands tore at his sides, teeth gnashing wildly as the corruption ate away at your humanity before his very eyes. 

“When I turn into an ethereal one day, I want to you promise that you’ll kill me.”

You lifted your head off his chest. “You sure have a strange idea of pillow talk, Haru.”

He snorted, hands tracing down the curve of your spine as you shivered. “Yeah, I know but still…I don’t want to wander in a Hollow forever like some mindless husk. That’s no way to live.”

You bit your cheek, stretching up to peck him on the lips, his hands gently brushing your hair aside as he grinned against your lips.

“Then I trust you to do the same for me.”

He hated himself. He hated that he remembered that conversation you had over a year ago, begging himself to twist the truth, to convince his own mind that you didn’t know the weight of your words. But deep down he knew he couldn’t deny it, deny you, of the peaceful passing he had asked you to offer him. 

This shouldn’t be an issue for him to face. It shouldn’t be you in the throes of corruption, screaming and tearing at him like an animal as your senses fled you body. 

You were supposed to outlive him. The scales of nature were stacked unmistakably in your favor.

Tears wet your cheeks, but they didn’t belong to you. Hot and salty tears poured down his face as his breath stuttered. Everything about this was wrong, like his worst nightmares spawning into a hellish reality as he begged any god that might exist for an easy way out, begged you for forgiveness, for you to answer him with that same gentle smile that was reserved just for quiet moments with him. 

Apologies burned him from the inside out, like venom on his tongue as he peeled your hands off of him and backed away. His hands trembled so violently he could scarcely nock an arrow, his entire body weak. His vision swam, whether it was from the ether corruption that had dinned his hearing or from the tears that didn’t seem to stop he wasn’t sure.

His lip quivered, breathing unsteady as he stared down at you, your form clawing at the earth before pushing shakily onto your knees. You moved more like a marionette than a human, the skin on your neck crumbling under a sheen of black as the core began to manifest. 

Mournful cries dripped from your cyanotic lips as a hand extended in his direction. It was a moment of lucidity, fingers flexing against the veins of corruption under your flesh.

“Haru, I’m so s-sorry.”

The arrow whistled sharply as his fingers released the bowstring.

.

.

.

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

They both sat on the table on your side of the bed, the metal cold and lifeless under his dull gaze. 

“Asaba, I know this is hard, but there are people who you can talk to. That can help you.” The voice of Yanagi echoed from the answering machine in the hallway. He let his cellphone die weeks ago. 

“We are just worried about you. Please, call me back.”

Your favorite coffee cup still sat beside the pot in the kitchen, the rim stained pink from your favorite lipstick. Your toothbrush still sat in the cup beside his, your shampoo still in the shower. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb the bag hanging in the closet, you didn’t want him to spoil the surprise of the dress you bought in excitement at the prospect of going out to dinner after all.

His medicine bottles sat empty in the bathroom trashcan, the contents lost to the sewers of New Eridu by now.

His lungs heaved tiredly, a deep wheeze whistling in the back of his throat. His vision never stopped swimming, even after he carried you out of the Hollow, an arrow embedded between your glossy eyes as your blood stained his clothes.

His thumb pressed the space between your eyebrows, your nose wrinkling, eyes warm as you stared at him from your side of the bed, hair fanned across your cheeks. 

“Haru, it’s not good for you to lay around all the time.” You whispered, leaning into his touch as his hand drifted to cup your cheek, thumb teasing your lower lip before you pressed a kiss to the pad.

 “Get up, you need to eat.”

He knew it wasn’t real, that you weren’t real, but he smiled like you were anyways. Like your lips were warm as you leaned in and brushed them against his, like there was weight behind the pull of your hands as he rolled out of bed for the first time in days.

There was a ring cut to your size, and for a little while longer he would pretend it was nestled on your finger. 

Rey 2024, crossposted to ao3

[bitchface24-7]

You were so so right about everything being smut like please please please some fluff or something

On the request note, can we get some reader cuddling Jayce after he has a nightmare and making sure he is fine, all warm and toasty under the comforter, playing with his hair maybe scratching his beard? I am such a sucker for nightmare hurt/comfort😩😩😩😩

I’M RIGHT HERE, SEE? - JAYCE X READER

synopsis: everyone suffers the odd nightmare or two. Its a normal occurrence. Now, when one has PTSD due to the cold, and it’s a cold winter’s night. Your brain may take you back some place you never wished to see again.

warnings: jayce has a nightmare and wakes up in a panic, he cries silently as he checks up on you, you wake up and comfort him, hurt/comfort, reassurance, sleepy cuddles, playing with hair, listening to heartbeats

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. I love this idea! I'm so happy that people like my writing enough to give me their ideas to jot down for the rest of you. Makes my heart flutter every time I see my inbox has something in it.

Jayce hates the cold, he hates winter. He can't stand it. It makes his palms sweat, his breathing pick up, and he feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

Ever since he and his mom were stuck in that blizzard, he can't see the snow or the cold the same way again. Its why he has such an obsessive love for magic. Magic saved him and his mom.

But it's not saving him now.

He's trying his best to shield you from the storm, using his much larger body compared to when he was a kid to protect you from the biting wind and icy snow.

But it’s useless. Your body is stiff, unmoving. Its cold to the touch, your lips are blue as are your nails.

You're experiencing hypothermia. No, you experienced hypothermia.

You're dead.

You're dead and it’s all Jayce's fault. He couldn't protect you, he couldn't keep you safe, he couldn't rely on magic this time to save you both. You're dead.

Jayce picks up your dead body and cries. He cries his heart out. He wails into the night sky begging and praying to gods he hasn't even thought of to save you.

To take him instead.

He puts his head your chest and whimpers when he doesn't hear that familiar beat.

He—

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He wakes up with a strangled gasp, shivering due to the night times fresh breeze. He's hyperventilating. His breathing slowly comes down to a normal pace when he realizes he's in your shared bedroom. He sees the basic night light plugged into the wall, he sees your wardrobe and dressed. He can faintly see the paintings on the wall.

Jayce covers his mouth with one of his hands and weeps silently. He looks over and sees you resting peacefully. He needs to make sure you're alive. He puts his hand on your back and feels the slight rise and fall of your breathing, he feels the warmth of your skin.

You're alive.

You're grumbling now as you slowly wake up.

You rub your eyes and sleepily ask, “Jayce? What's wrong? Why’re you up at—” You take a glance over to your bedside table, “Two forty-five in the morning?”

Your sleepiness vanishes when you turn over and see Jayce's watery eyes and the fact he's crying silently. You scooch over and immediately wrap your arms around him, putting his head on your chest as you run your hand through his hair. The other hand rubs his back.

“Shh Jayce. Shhhh. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it wasn't real. You're okay.”

Jayce's crying slowly halts as your comfort takes over his mind. You stay like that for a few minutes before you break the silence, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jayce purses his lips and nods lightly. You continue to stroke his back and play with his hair as he speaks in a desolate tone. You never want to hear that tone a voice again, “We were stuck in a blizzard. Like the one my m—mum and I were in as a kid. Except— except there wasn't a mage there to save us. I tried everything to save you but you still died! You died and it was my fault!”

As Jayce gets amped up due to his dispair, you lightly shush him, kissing his forehead, “Jayce, I'm right here, see? Listen to my heart. It’s beating just fine.”

Jayce does just that, he presses his head firmly into your chest and closes his eyes, then he hears it.

Thu-thump

Thu-thump

Thu-thump

Thu-thump

A shaky sigh leaves his lips. There it is. There's your heartbeat. At the confirmation of you being okay, Jayce's anxiety levels drop. He feels exhausted. He never wants to experience fear like that again; even if it's false.

Seeing how serene Jayce is, you tuck the blankets over you two, ensuring not a speak of Jayce was left out in the fresh night breeze. You continue to physically ground him, playing with his hair, rubbing circles into his back, scratching his beard lightly and tracing his features.

Eventually, Jayce falls back to sleep, much more tranquil than he was before. In what feels like no time you fall asleep too, with a hand left in Jayce's hair and one on his back. He's the perfect weighted blanket.

You hope Jayce never experiences a nightmare like that again, but if he does; you’re there to take care of him.

This one is quite short but I hope it still hits all the feels. This one was nice to write, but I didn't want to drag it out too much. It'd feel disingenuous if I did that. Asks are still open (I can't imagine closing them unless I get too many in one shot)

[keferon]

I'm about to be running on very little sleep as Final's just hit. So I whipped this up really fast, because I am now a sucker for Texaid. Hopefully by the end of Finals I can start working on that texaid animatic i'd say i do. ________

[COME ON IN BABY~] The white text on Vortex's ever red screen showed, before he was opening up, allowing the medic turned pilot to step inside. Felix doesn’t think he’d ever get used to Vortex calling him baby, it was weird and annoying when he did it the first couple of times. But now It has become a comfort for him, it lets him know that Vortex is not really all that serious, and is trying to get a kick out of him.  All of his other pilots couldn’t take a joke, to which he reminds the haunted mecha that he killed or mentally damaged them before he really got to know any of them. [THEY WERE NEVER AS FUN AS YOU.]

“Flattered.”

Felix takes his seat, hooking himself up with the neural link so they can talk in real time.

“So any big plans on how to take care of this one?” The mecha powers up, much like the few others still in the station. Rodimus, and a few others he has really only spoken to once, as they are still too scared of him and his mecha.

‘I’d say let's have some fun with it, we haven’t had one dancing in a while.’ Felix chuckled at the suggestion, but nods. It would be fun to get one of those aliens to get itself tangled up in its tentacles trying to grab at them.

‘I’d known you’d take my suggestion baby.’ xxx

[DO YOU TRULY FEEL SAFE INSIDE ME?]

Felix looks back at the closed visor, the dead of night had hit. Frankly Felix does not want to try and walk through the halls where he might end up running into Pharma, he’s been acting weird lately, more than usual. 

“Yes, I do. Funny isn’t it. You can kill me in the most gruesome way, yet I'd much rather be with you, then finding myself face to face with a fellow human.” Felix smoothed out the sleeping bag on Vortex’s floor, fluffing up the pillow, then made his way inside to fall asleep. [YOU ARE WEIRD.] “I thought you liked that about me?” There was a long pause, before the sound of grinding gears entered his ears. The sound of metal laughing. 

[YES I DO. NOW SLEEP. BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND AND GRIND YOU UP INTO A PAST.] An empty threat. Felix finds himself smiling. He reached out of his sleeping bag to pat at the surprisingly warm metal. “Whatever you say, Vortex.” His eyes were already shut, not being able to see the next line of text.

[SLEEP WELL FELIX BABY.]

xxx

[STOP IT YOU’RE HURTING HIM, STOP IT YOU’RE HURTING HIM, STOP IT YOU’RE HURTING ME, STOP IT YOU’RE HURTING US.] No matter how much he begged for Felix’s life, no matter if Shockwave could see him or not. The mad scientist was not stopping, Felix’s screams were not ceasing. 

While the screams of the perishing were normally something he relished in, delighted in hearing. This was not one he ever wished to hear. The agony in Felix's voice was loud and uncomfortable, he wished he could reach inside of himself and pull Felix out. 

But that would hurt Felix, he knows it will. It would harm him to a point he could no longer be his pilot. So he pleaded, he did something he never thought he’d stoop so low too. Yet he did. He did it because he wanted to stay by Felix’s side for as long as he could. 

Because he wanted to hear Flixes’s voice, he wanted to feel his excitement as they crushed the alien invaders, his curiosity when dissecting them to see how their body’s worked. He wanted their late night talks, just them in the silence of an inactive mecha charging station. 

He wanted this and so much more. 

But he won’t get it if Shockwave completely take’s over Felix’s body. 

He had to do something and fast.

‘Hang on Felix, I'm coming.’ 

My texaid soul IS THRIVING

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 . ( a collection of lyric prompts based on various works by ashnikko . adjust phrasing as necessary , mature themes and language are present . )

attitude and the booze won't save you .

you fuck my life up then you say "my bad" .

you don't seem to see what a cliche you are .

repeat after me , "i'm over it" .

you don't ever cross my mind , what's a sheep to a tiger ?

i'm no prey , but i am pursued .

my best friend thinks that i'm a dumbass .

the world is burning and i laugh at the blaze .

on your horse so high , i swear to god i'm higher .

heard a rumor that you said you made me who i am .

i'm too healthy , wealthy , well fed .

i don't have the time to pretend you're funny .

self - made , self - paid , how dare you speak my name ?

i hate you so much right now .

you're not special , it's not cute .

hi , it's me , back again . here to remind you he's not worth it .

i slip up , i text you , i forget that you were so disrespectful .

they told me to be nice and i told them to bite me .

you don't want to see me bratty .

i put that teddy bear you gave me in a blender .

whiskey in my hip flask , nothing fruity .

i can see the desperation , i've got you right where i want you .

you can't stand to see me shine .

so lame that i'm your only claim to fame .

i like how you look when you really beg .

i need a new toy just to cleanse my palate .

it's gonna hurt , it'll sting .

only one strike , then you get the boot .

the only thing you seem to give me is sex .

you think you're the man , bitch please .

we both know it wasn't love , it was a big bad habit .

i only trust a fella for some light amusement .

unfortunately , you made the mistake of underestimating me .

you wish you could sway my attention .

tell me what you need .

there was potential in you .

i wanna make a couple bad decisions .

i'm no cinderella , but i like the shoes .

i do well for myself , nothing you do is extraordinary .

my dumb ass should be a little more cautious .

fuck a princess , i'm a king .

i say i won't do it , then i do it and i make myself sick .

you think you're worth all the fuss ?

to tell the truth , role models weren't around me much .

why am i such a sucker for a fuckboy's freckles ?

i say it's a no - brainer , now .

i'm crazy , but you like that . i bite back .

you already know i'm not shy .

what we did was childish , can we put this behind us ?

nothing was nice , but i loved every minute .

i don't give a fuck , i have more fun on my ones .

i've been predisposed to trauma since i was eleven .

you can keep the image of my butt as a souvenir .

being a bitch is my kink .

you're still taught the same shit .

i think she really likes me .

hide your back , she likes to stab them .

i hate that i'm so self depricating , more comfortable in bad situations .

i'm a little faded , you look like a fuckin' painting .

when i'm with you i have amnesia , got me without a mind .

i don't let a fucker on the internet tell me nothing .

this is all because you want to say you've done it .

i'm fresh out of patience .

you wish i missed you . back the fuck up .

i'm a sucker for a little devastation .

coulda , shoulda , woulda , but you did it .

i swear i'm not crying , the sun's just bright .

tell me why i need you over the next .

i'm eager to hurt more .

i swear my blue vibrator brings me more joy .

i gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch .

you better stock up on tissues , jacking off to all my pictures .

fake it to the top .

typical of me to go and ruin the party .

i'm having the best time of my life .

i'm having the worst time of my life .

you look dumb now that i've come to my senses .

what do you really mean when you're calling me nice ?

you wanna hold a gun but they made you a pinup .

i forget that you're still so disrespectful .

your love is not impressive .

tell it to my manager , he'll tell you "pay a fee" .

now that i can think rationally , i feel so stupid .

everybody says they love me but i'm still brokenhearted .

it's like i need a babysitter , someone to come get me .

god made me pretty , you made me mean .

say you want my body , let me give it to you .

i'm not in your circle , baby .

i just wanna push you to the edge now .

your sad life is never getting better .

what are you mad at me for , huh ?

i was living good until your locusts and your plague hit .

forgive me for the nasty things i say when i'm wounded .

so you're scared of me now , huh ?

women hold the weight of the world .

there's something to be said for a bitch who can top me .

if nothing matters , then i'll be fine .

you hate me cause you hate yourself .

dust yourself off , girl , keep your chin up .

he says i'm a lost cause and he might be right .

i'm that "fuck up your life" girl .

i would crawl through broken glass to get home .

i play my life like a video game .

i think you've gotta do way more if you wanna please me .

what's he doing ? i don't need a brave knight .

i deleted your number .

i'm not shy , i'll say it . i've been picturing you naked .

legs getting tired , can we switch positions ?

you put a knife in my back but you'll never be the death of me .

i could squash you like a little rotten fruit .

you could never , 'cause you're not clever enough .

we were good while it lasted .

my baby calls me bossy .

i don't really need a man , but sometimes i want one though .

i can't even wear my skin without them asking where i've been .

i can make you call remember me .

stupid boy thinks that i need him .

hate me 'cause i'm beautiful , bitch i don't like you either .

i think you know you can't replace me .

who do i have to kill to make everybody love me ?

i try to think , but it's no use .

maybe we can love until we're dead .

this is not an invitation .

how dare i have private desires ?

now you're crying and you're shaking ?

nothing about you is attractive to me , now .

am i fuckable enough for you ?

i don't want you and i don't want your homie .

please don't think that the sex is gonna cloud my view .

can't believe i let your hand inside my bloomers .

tell me how my ass tastes , little bottom feeder .

you don't know your way around a pussy .

i want it , i win it . call it ambition .

i don't need the dick - i need magic , i need money .

i know you think about me in the shower .

i've got several dummies that wanna get on me .

this is so small in the big simulation .

go find another bitch to hoover , count the days until you lose her .

i know you think about me with your hand down your trousers .

you don't know anyone else like me .

it's a therapist you need .

[gatorbites-imagines]

Ohh my gosh i just saw you take jjk requests.. could i please ask for some sweet cuddly headcanons or a scenario of heian era/true form Sukuna x small-ish but chubby ftm reader?

Oh also im sorry if its weird but i uhhh i headcanon Sukuna was kinda chubby himself during that time if you could include that somehow.. i dunno its just i love soft squishy men cause i am one okay thank you bye

Heian era/true form Ryomen Sukuna x chubby ftm reader

Headcanons

Cheering and jumping up and down whenever I get jjk requests. Im such a sucker for true form Sukuna. Sukuna nation. Sukuna is also around 8 ft in this, cuz I love me some size difference.

No one would suspect Sukuna of all people to be sweet or even cuddly, and no one gets to see it, except for you and maybe Uraume.

Theres nothing your big lug of a lover likes more than to lay his head in your lap after a meal, which was probably people knowing him, and having you play with his head or just caress his face.

Living on a regular diet of human would also mean that Sukuna has more meat on his bones in this era than he does in the 2000s when he wakes up again. Think like bulking and cutting when it comes to wrestling.

It would most likely also be a result of dating Sukuna that allowed you to get chubby as well, since this was during the Heian era, where one couldn’t as easily get their hands on enough food to get chubby unless they were very rich.

But if you already were chubby, then that was more than likely what caught Sukunas attention first. Maybe he thought you looked extra delicious to snack on, or you thought it was sexy, since he doesn’t get to see chubby people on the regular, at least not ones that are actually attractive like you.

Sukuna would enjoy you being softer too, since it means he can lay his big ol head on your torso or on your thighs, or that he can squeeze your body with his big hands.

Expect him to nip at you, anywhere on your body really, and rumble about how you are good enough to eat. You know he wouldn’t actually eat you, but he likes to threaten it. and it comes more across as flirting instead of threatening at the end of the day.

When it comes to being trans. Sukuna couldn’t honestly care less. Hes got Uraume around, what makes you think he cares how you present yourself or see yourself.

Sukuna would use it as an excuse to kill more people though, since anybody disrespecting you or people like you deserve to die in his book. Aint nobody gonna disrespect Sukuna, the king of curses, lover like that.

Would hunt down anybody who might have hurt you in the past, no questions asked. They wouldn’t stand a chance against your bear of a man, curse?

If you wanted top or bottom surgery, or even testosterone, he would find a way. They didn’t have treatment like we do now, but if anybody would be able to find a way it would be Sukuna, even if it means torturing sorcerers or curses to get it.

You can also dress however you want around Sukuna. Hes one of those “dress however you want babe, I can fight” guys. Sukuna himself also wears a woman’s kimono, so I don’t think he really sees gender in clothes the same way as sorcerers or humans might.

And if you feel insecure of dysphoric about your body, Sukuna might not be the best at comforting with words. But hed find ways to show he is there for you, be it pulling you into his lap, or just lingering around whenever he’s around. Would also order Uraume to make sure you are happy and have everything you need.

Speaking of pulling you into his lap. Sukuna loves the size difference between you. It isn’t hard to be smaller than Sukuna, but you being small-ish means he can easily have you straddling one of his thighs, the lower pair of his arms wrapped around your waist, and the upper pair doing something else.

Expect to be licked by his stomach mouth on the regular when this happens, or when you guys are cuddling. If not licked, then expect your back to be kissed when no one is looking, or nobody can see.

Sukuna would find It funny if it made you blush or turn to look at him over your shoulder whenever he does it. He just raises his brow like “what?” whenever you try to call him out on it, always saying you must be making things up.

The stomach mouth always ends up licking your hands when you guys are cuddling and you’re petting his stomach. When you complain about it, he just says it’s not that bad, and offers to let you lick his hands too, you’ll have to do it four times though, you guys gotta be equal right?

Sukuna doesn’t really focus on the fact that hes on the chubby side himself, but hes different compared to you. For Sukuna imagine those big weight lifters that have a thick layer of fat on their bodies because of all the calories they need, that’s how I imagine Sukuna.

He does a lot of fighting and a lot of eating and training, so him being chubby buff would make sense. He isn’t someone to feel insecure, but he would preen like a peacock if you gushed about how hot he was.

Sukuna likes to eat, that’s no secret. But he doesn’t just like to eat people, but treats too. So, you guys will have many times where you lay on top of his chest or beside him on one of his arms, the two of you sharing something sweet.

He expects you to feed him, sorry but he does. He makes up for it by playing with your hair with one of his hands in the meantime, so I guess it’s fair.

Yes, he also expects you to feed the stomach mouth, is that even a question?

He likes cuddling in the sun with a nice comfortable breeze going. Imagine him laying sprawled out on his kimono, you laying on top of him or beside him, the shutters to the room open, just enough wind and sun to make it comfortable.

Sukuna doesn’t snore, but he rumbles sometimes, kind of like a big tiger or maybe a lion. He also denies doing it, but you’ve caught him multiple times. It gets extra loud if you pet his chest or face.

You always gotta be careful cuddling with Sukuna though, since he might roll over in his sleep and roll on top of you, and you’ll feel like a pancake. Hes got all that bulk weighing down on you, knocking all the air outta you, but he makes a great weighted blanket.

Your lover also doesn’t like to be woken up, but when its you its not as bad. Best bet is to wake him up with kisses, he doesn’t seem to mind them that much. Sukuna does grumble and complain a little, but its not hard to sense that he doesn’t really mean it.

[seiwas]

for ur blurb: Midoriya, hands, and for a trope im thinking like first date ? first touch?

thanks for sending scout! 🫶

midoriya + hands + first touch

contains: pro-hero!deku x assistant!reader (i am a sucker for this), very cliche but i am a sucker for that too, reader wears flats and is also really clumsy

contrary to popular belief, pro-hero deku does not run as "hot" as the internet proclaims he does.

it's a reasonable expectation, you think, with how lively and bubbly he is. his hyperactivity must stem from some urge to constantly move, after all.

but, that's not what you feel on the first impact. on the initial collision.

routine patrols almost always result in your boss trudging up the emergency stairs, geared up and sweaty, because he refuses to occupy half of the elevator with the added real estate his hero suit takes up. it's sweet of him, awfully thoughtful really. the kind of person he is. but―

his office is on the 15th floor, and though he insists it's good warm up for the rest of the day, he's practically shedded off half of his suit by the time he reaches his floor, not quite heaving, but not quite breathing easily either.

today, you decide, you'll meet him half-way―bring down one of his extra shirts from the alarming amount he keeps stocked up in his office cabinet. and a bottle of water too, in case he's thirsty.

the trip down the emergency exit is made easier by a pair of flats you wear, a change initiated by midoriya during your first few months on the job. most assistants wear heels—an unspoken rule no one can quite explain. but—

“are your feet okay?” he asks as you both walk past a plaque that reads "gear support".

you look down at your feet before turning to him, confused, tilting your head slightly.

the corners of his eyes crinkle as he stifles a chuckle, endeared, "sorry.” his green mop of hair sways lightly as he shakes his head, “i mean, i noticed earlier. you were moving your feet a lot.”

your eyebrows shoot up, shoulders tensing as embarrassment washes over you. you immediately scramble on what to say, but your exchange quickly becomes a back-and-forth of who’s-realized-what when you notice midoriya’s freckled cheeks tint a dark pink.

“not—not like that’s wrong! or anything," he shakes his hands in front of him, palms splayed out in front of you. he immediately pockets one of them, taking a deep breath, "just,” before he sighs out, fingers hovering over the keypad to his personal gear room, “if your feet are starting to hurt, you should wear something more comfortable.”

and so here you are now, just having passed the tenth floor as you make your way down to meet your boss half-way. you can already hear his footsteps a few flights below, the heavy clunking of his boots echoing in the empty staircase.

you take another step, the bottle of water and t-shirt clutched tightly to your chest. you're careful to keep your feet light so as to not alarm him, but it must be his hero senses when you hear him call your name, his voice curling up in question as he stares at you from below.

you peer from the railing, smiling sheepishly as you raise up the items in your hand and wave.

some strands of his hair have matted to his forehead, the top portion of his suit zipped down to reveal the compression shirt he wears underneath. his eyes widen as he notices what you're holding, expression morphing into a small, relieved smile as he extends his legs to skip a step. you don't miss the small bow his head makes at your kind gesture.

it's at the landing of the eighth floor that midoriya pauses and waits, adjusting his pants and tucking his gloves into his utility belt as he watches you make your last few steps.

now, wearing flats to work has definitely solved a boatload of your discomfort in the agency; you no longer get blisters at the sides of your toes and your calves don't cramp the same way they used to. but while it's reduced the amount of times you've tripped and fallen by at least 50%, the constraint of a pair of heels is not the only factor that contributes to the little mishaps you typically get yourself into.

you're clumsy, to a fault―

as you take the second-to-the-last step before the landing, you somehow lose your footing and find yourself tripping, body going out of balance as it tips forward. you're preparing yourself for your inevitable fall when you think―

―not even a pair of flats can save you from that.

"oh my god―!" you squeak, voice involuntarily pulled from your throat as your hands fail to grab onto the railing. the split second you manage to get a glimpse of midoriya's face shows you that he's just as shocked as you are.

nothing can save you now, you fear.

except, maybe, a pair of pro-hero hands that just so happen to belong to your boss.

you're fully expecting to hit the floor when you're met with the firm surface of midoriya's chest instead, the damp fabric cool against your forehead. his hands are positioned separately along your waist and your hip, the one by your ribcage just centimeters shy from your chest.

if you aren't going to die from falling down the stairs, you're pretty sure you're going to die from embarrassment right now.

you blink, once, twice, a few times before his voice registers to you, the rumbling by your cheek accompanying his speech.

his concerned "are you okay?" feels like it should be a staple greeting at this point.

you maneuver yourself to stand upright slowly, the bottle of water and t-shirt still clutched in your other hand. his fingers grab a hold of yours to keep you steady, calloused skin touching yours.

you don't expect it, the slight shock you feel as his hand clutches your own; it’s cold and a little clammy amidst the bumps and grooves you feel from his scars.

the moment crashes onto you when you finally look up to face him, the embarrassment doubling you over to bow an almost perfect 90 degrees in apology, "s-sir deku, i'm so sorry!"

"h-hey," he laughs awkwardly, his hand reaching lightly to tap your back, "i-it's okay, you don't have to apologize―"

"i should've seen the last step, i didn't mean―" you remain in your bow, rambling.

"it's o―"

"i just wanted to deliver the shirt and maybe some water so you wouldn't have to―"

he glances at the items gripped tightly on your sides, his lips curling into a soft smile, “i really appreciate―"

"i didn't mean to cause more work―"

he sighs, amused as he crouches low to meet you eye-to-eye. you stop speaking, stunned by a pair of pine green staring at you. his freckled cheeks are dusted a familiar dark pink.

"please stop bowing," he requests, smile genuine and voice a little shy.

you scramble to stand straight, hands outstretched to give him the bottle of water and his t-shirt.

"h-here, sir deku. i'm sorry again, i'll do―"

"'deku'," he quickly replies, his hand reaching for the items. his fingers brush yours as he takes them from you—the second touch. it’s still a little cold, clammy as he says, "i mean, thank you. and just... just 'deku' is fine."

a/n: if i were to characterize reader, i would say they’re pretty similar to midoriya 😭 atp, they’ve also been working for a good year. reader has a developing crush on him (this scene is the trigger) and midoriya is really fond of reader! everyone teases him that his assistant is clumsy as heck but he kinda just shrugs it off and says it’s just their quirk (no pun intended), and that they’re really hardworking 🥹

[platinumink]

Headcanon Vol.2: Odysseus had unruly hair in his youth but grew out of it but Telemachus now has to deal with it and Ody helps his son and it all ends in a beautiful hurt/comfort moment

Not as good as my other headcanons for this fandom but I really do think about situations where Telemachus is just struggling to tidy his hair which is just going crazy all of the time and is about to give up when Odysseus strolls into the bathing area and notices his sons struggles.

Not wanting to embarrass him any further after the whole clothes stealing shenanigans, he simply nods in hello and does his thing with cleaning himself. When he's done, he notices that Telemachus is still not any closer to figuring out his hair so he comes over and mentions how he also had impossible-to-deal-with hair and age and growing it out (the added weight) helped with it's upkeep but he did have some tricks he learned to aid the issue.

So he tells his son about it who becomes completely enraptured in the story, not wanting to miss a single word his dad tells him. Telemachus asks for tips and Ody asks if it would be okay to show him and his son agrees.

Ody spends the next hour ir so explaining hair care for curly hair to his son, going over herb tinctures and oils he can use to make his hair submit to his will without damaging it as well as special brushes and movements that help with detangling and finally braids that help with the right curl forming overnight. It becomes a whole thing with them and even though Telemachus gets the hang of it very quickly, he keeps on asking his dad to do it for him and Ody is bever going to decline because quality time with his dearly missed son is everything to him.

So during their hair care moments, they talk about each others days, what they were going to do the day after and eventually, Ody feels confortable enough to confide in his son as well about his Odyssey (hehe) and they things he went through and had to do and Telemachus is then there for him, reassuring him and comforting him as well.

Eventually Telemachus does his dads hair as well so they can spend even more time together.

Penelope does know about this because of course Ody had to tell her all about how much he loves his son and how much he enjoys their new father son bonding moments, but one day, when she enters the bathing area earlier than usual, she sees the two of them and observes their little time together. She does not intervene because while she also loves her son deeply, she will allow her husband to have this time for himself to catch up on all of the lost time.

I also imagine their time together always ends with them touching foreheads (because I am a sucker for those between parents and their kids), hugging and Ody kissing his sons hair. They then always leave the baths together before Telemachus artives at his room first where they hug again and wish each other a restful night and then Ody leaves fir his own room and lies down beside his wife, talks with her just as long about their days and then they fall asleep in each others arms thoigh Odys head is 100% on Penelopes chest to hear her heartbeat because he has still trauma from Calypsos bullshit and needs it to convince himself that he is home.

He then sleeps, thinking about his family.

And now i've brough myself to tears yet again. 😭🩵

Also if anyone wants to write or draw something with this, you of course have my full permission. Just tag me please, I want to say thank you and admire your work 😭🙏🏻🩵

[hotheadedhero]

Ok question how would the tmnt bros (all 4) react to someone having a crush on them, and they confess, but the turtle rejects at time... but later on he realizes no wait I actually do like them!

But theres already been like a good month or more since the confession and their crush has been sorta avoiding them by hanging out with the other turtle bros and though still being polite, they avoid like being alone with their turtle crush and try to act like they don't have a crush still(but they do)

Sorry if I didn't write the request right! and thanks for your writing I love how you write the turtles!

Frothing at the mouth. No words. Speechless. Thank you so much anon! This request is absolutely amazing and tugged at my heart in all the good ways, you beauty. So glad you like my writing tyty <3 Apologies for the wait btw :] I might have meddled with the idea a bit depending on the turtle but I hope this is the kind of thing you were hoping for! May even make a part 2 continuation because there was just so much to write, this was really a lot of fun so thank you again :P I let fate decide which version to base this on and we got Bayverse!

Rejection, Realisation, and Regret

Warnings: bad language, grovelling turtles for their idiocy, angst with this in mind, oh these boys are some real idiots

Bay Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

Turns you down as gently as he can but it still feels like a sucker punch to the gut. It may sound calloused but he's a ninja, a mutant, a protector before anything else and that includes being someone's boyfriend. With a constructive discussion on the matter, he can only hope that you understand his position. You assured him that you did.

So, then, how is it that he barely gets a conversation in with you these days? And why does that fact burn a hole in his stomach? This pit, although metaphorical, weighs down heavily on him. Assumably, he’s missing one-on-one with a friend until it truly occurs to him just what exactly is going on. There's a lesson to be learned here, he's sure - a saying that goes around as if taken from an ancient script: you don't realise how good you have it until it's gone. You're not gone perse but you make a point of avoiding him individually. As well-mannered as you try to be, he's noticed and he's noticed the hurt in his belly that comes alongside it.

He thought things were okay, that despite the rejection, you would still be able to comfortably continue your friendship without any issues. It seems he managed even to fool himself. Being so caught up in what it means to be one of New York's self-acclaimed protectors, he was completely absentminded to the feelings that had been bubbling up inside him all along. No wonder he's been losing focus on his training as of late. He has attempted to try and talk to you about it but to no avail. Has your heart really been that broken?

For once, he doesn’t know what to do, or what decision should be made. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place right now. Who's the one person he can turn to at a time like this? Come on. Who else would it be?

"Sensei, you know better than anyone that our position comes with complications. That we as ninjas are sworn to certain oaths.” 

"Yes, the duty of yourself and your brothers is indeed a heavy burden. Responsibility comes with risk and consequence as I am sure you are well aware of by now.” Splinter watches his son bow down as he thoughtfully strokes his beard.  "However, sensei, rat, master; alongside all of these things, I am foremost a father who wishes to see his sons be happy. You're in love, are you not?"

Leo’s attention quickly turns up from the floor to his master. How had he figured it out? Must be that parental instinct. Either way, he’s thankful for that in some respect. It makes this easier. Less complicated. 

The turtle nods and breathes out, "I am, Sensei."

"That's what I thought." His father lays a hand over Leo’s shoulder before it taps him against the side of his head. "Now, what are you waiting for? Talking to me isn't going to change the situation."

Splinter is right. It's high time for him to get out of his funk and strategise the best way to make amends. He can only hope he isn’t too late. 

Raphael

Rejects you thinking it was some sick prank curated by his youngest brother or something. There's no way you have a thing for him. He's a mutant and you're a human. How could someone actually be in love with a freak like himself? That's why he blows up in your face when you attempt to pour your heart out to him. Whatever joke you thought would be funny, isn't. 

He may have taken things out of proportion. This much is made obvious enough by the poorly thought-out excuses you make just to avoid being alone with him. Yeah, that's right, he thinks. You should feel ashamed for trying to pull a stupid stunt like that, for trying to mess with him. He's standing firm on his self-assurance. Don't think for a second that he's going to lose sleep over what he said that day.

However, life has a very funny way of playing its own game. It all comes to fruition when you're laughing with the leader of the brothers. When your hand landed on his forearm, Raphael was struck with something fierce. The shot of jealousy to his heart almost takes him for a wild spin but he disregards it for typical Leo/Raph rivalry. Until that night, anyway. This man is tossing and turning in bed, ruminating on that sickly feeling in his chest; losing sleep over it. No. Surely not. He isn't in love with you. This isn't something that's been in the making for however long now. So what if you managed to calm him down quicker than anyone else he's ever known? Big whoop if you used to make a point of checking up on him when no one dared to go near him. It’s no big deal that you’d hype him up and cheer him on before each mission. 

Fuck. He's been in love with you this whole time, hasn't he? Oh, you have got to be kidding. This was probably the only chance he had at something close to normal in his life and he trampled over it like it was nothing. That's assuming it was even genuinely meant from your end to begin with. He still has his doubts all things considered. Either way, he can’t just sit in bed and wallow in his head all night. He needs some air. 

"What crawled up your shell and died?"

Great. He had hoped to get some peace and quiet. Not that this city knows the definition of either word but that isn’t the point. 

"Not now, Jones. I ain't in the mood."

Casey's head rolls against his shoulders and he sighs, "Hey, if this is to do with (Y/n) ignoring you, what do you expect? 'Can't just make someone cry and expect things to be okay after without an apology."

Raph's mask slowly descends and hoods over his eyes, those of which are now staring down the detective.

"Oh, shit. You didn't know?"

No. No, he did not. He really made you cry? Why would you-? Ah. Two things smack him up the head at this moment: you meant every word of what you admitted a month ago and he is an absolute asshole. Despite already living in the sewers, he feels like the scum of the Earth.

That's it. No more holding back. No more being chicken. He might have ruined his chance but he can at least try and make things right by you.

Donatello

Aloof. Absolutely aloof and utterly clueless to the fact that you were even trying to admit your feelings for him. Yet, the way that the whole situation plays out makes it seem as though he had denied you. His head is usually stuck in a book or on one of the many screens that litter his quarters. What can you really expect of him? Unfortunately, this isn’t something that comes to mind nor is taken into consideration when you attempt your casual proclamation. With his eyes glued to his computer, his inattentiveness could only be read as uninterest to which you find it’s probably best to withdraw yourself. 

In the weeks to come, it still doesn't even occur to him that you were confessing. The only thing that dawns on him from your weirdly abrupt absence is how strange it feels without you around. You still engage in your regular visits to the lair but are always elusive to his corner. Had he missed a memo? He can't quite place a finger on your change in behaviour. Then he realises just how much he enjoys and misses your presence. Even just how you'd pass by his little section of the lair and do something as small as asking him what he's working on. The small details should always get their chance in the spotlight but he managed to miss them when they were right there in front of him. When you were in front of him.

Subsequent to this steady progression of fluttering heart palpitations upon the thought of you and his drying throat when he tries to speak your way, he decides to take some action. At least, that’s the plan he has in his head. You hardly look his way, so he needs to find a way to gain your attention. There must be some way. With somewhat of an idea in mind, he dials a number through his computer and lets it ring. 

The other side of the line picks up and there’s a voice. “If this has anything to do with goons, aliens or whatever trouble you guys have gotten yourselves into, I don’t want any part of it.”

“Relax, Vern. This is something that entirely requires your expertise without life endangerment. I need to ask about women,” Donnie confirms, cutting right to the chase.

There’s a pause. "What-?” Another longer pause and then an inhale. “Can't you just ask one of your brothers or something?"

Yeah, right, because his family of sewer dwellers are so well-equipped for this matter. Even asking for Vern's aid is pushing the boat a little but it's better than nothing - a baseline structure of what to expect is all he needs. The internet would probably be more reliable but it doesn’t include that vital real-world experience.

"You engage in frequent courting. By all accounts, you're the only person I know who has enough field experience to give advice."

This might be giving Vern too much credit but this is a surefire way to get what he wants. Feeding a man's ego can accomplish many things. Call it manipulation of the circumstances if you will but no harm done. 

"You know what?” There’s a brightness in his tone, an uptilted cadence in Vern’s rhetorical question. Bingo. “You being the smart one has never been more accurate, Don. Alright, I'll help you."

The notes he takes are unfathomable but he wants to make sure that everything is thought out with careful precision. That's not even taking into account that he needs to muster the courage to ask you out in the first place.

Michelangelo

One would think that this guy would be jumping with unparalleled joy to have someone confess their feelings for him but he's got eyes for someone else. April O'Neil is his one true babycake, his angel face, the first love he had ever known. He turns you down in the friendly way one would expect him to if not a little cocky. Who wouldn't want a piece of the MC Mikey? There aren’t any hard feelings though, right?

Well, no but the sting that follows is still too much for you to handle. Too much in fact that you decide it's best to recoil into a shell of your own and spend less time with the loveable terrapin. Such a shame as well considering you're missing out on your regular gaming sessions together. It probably sucks big time to be rejected but he meant no harm by it. He thought you could still hang out as you normally would. Perhaps you just needed some time. That’s what he reckoned until the days turned to weeks and those weeks to almost two months. 

He’s subjected to playing bystander when you hang out with his family, barely getting a chance to have a word with you alone. If this treatment is good for anything, it gives him a chance to spectate and watch how you interact with those around you rather than directly with him. He recognises how much he adores that sparkle in your eyes, the playfulness of your tone when you crack out jokes with his brothers, how you light up the entire lair when you make your presence known. There is this unshakable spirit within you that he somehow never noticed until a few days prior when you took the liberty of playing an incredibly bold practical joke at Casey's expense. Man, this turtle's heart sored higher than it ever has before, which is saying something considering he had to jump out of a plane once.

Well, colour him surprised. He was so sure of himself that New York's favourite journalist was the only one for him but it seems he was wrong. Oh, man. He's feeling pretty bad now. He can surely make up for what happened though, right? Hopefully. There's only one way of finding out but he has one thing he needs to do first before talking to you.

"I'm sorry, angel face. My sights have been led astray. My loyalty shouldn’t be doubted but it’s for someone else now.” 

The way Mikey is knelt down, head lowered with April’s hands in his own is a perplexing sight if not curiously amusing. His feelings and the pronounced “dibs” on the reporter have been no secret but his recent infatuation with you hasn’t been much of a secret either. Not to her anyway but she likes to think she’s good at picking up on these things. 

“Just know that you'll always have a special place in my heart,” he finishes, ending the overly dramatised display by holding a fist to his chest. 

"Considerate as always." Her expression is somewhere between humoured and endeared, fighting the shake of her head at how adorably ridiculous this turtle can be. "Thanks, Mikey."

Now that's out of the way, he can go into this with a clear head. Although, the only thing really going into this is going to be all of his heart.

[seattlesellie]

i have a request!! i had a thought yesterday and imagine ellie coming home to you complaining about your hurting tits and at first she’s like kind of concerned yk so she gently asks you to let her see but then she gets turned on and starts to play with them and stuff djdksksk i need her so bad

painkiller.

warnings: mentions of reader having pms, afab reader, smut (minors… please don’t), tit play obviously, slight spit play as well, pathetic caring dom ellie, masturbation (e)

an: i really am a sucker for ellie taking care of u when ur feeling unwell :( just makes me feel fjjsjdjs and i can’t even imagine how comforting she it. btw i had farm ellie in mind (don’t i always) 💗 i’m kinda on the fence with this one but i’m writing dbf abby n needed a break<3

although the sun has sunk, and the dark blue skies are veiled by a shroud of dark clouds, the heavy and sultry august heat managed to creep itself through your window, nevertheless. the white wine in your glass — the 'chenin blanc' to be exact, has lost all of it’s docile sweetness all of a sudden, succumbing to an unpalatable acrimony. even the book that’s half opened, resting on your knees; seems devoid of interest, and you’re left there, sat on the couch, accompanied by another painful groan escaping from your lips, and a dull ache settling within your body.

it just is one of those days. 

you bring your trembling hand lower, finding solace against your chest. with a slight opening of your quivering bottom lip, you whine through clenched teeth. you gulp, gingerly placing the wine glass upon the table, and rest your eyes shut. “hurts…” you whimper into the void, cupping your right breast and attempting to soothe and massage it. your touch, albeit is nothing but soft, manages to make it ache even more. you squeeze your eyes in despair, and a fat tear flows down your cheek. you wipe it away, followed by a hushed but tormented hum.

five minutes manage to pass by, and just as you teeter on the precipice of sleep, an insistent stab of pain jolts you awake. the pain slyly creeps around, wends its insidious path, and ‘rests’ down on your lower back, your hips, and then finds home on your breasts again. a pain killer could help, perhaps, but you’ve already taken two, and mixing it with wine, albeit only half a glass, would be quite a bad idea.

“this… SUCKS!” — you groan, and maybe god could hear you and fix it, if only you were loud enough.

then, your ears twitch at the subtle creak emanating from the keyhole. after that, the wooden door opens. you were thinking about god hearing you, and somehow ellie managed to appear. you’d entertain her with that amusing little thought, but all you can mutter after her relieved “hey, babe” — is a rather pathetic hiccup. ellie walks intently towards you, eyebrows knitted tightly, the staccato rhythm of her rough boots echoing upon the wooden floor, and she walks almost as if she found a wounded fawn in the middle of a dirt road.

your eyes remain firmly sealed, your limbs limp and listless at your sides, and even though you can’t see, you can tell she’s crouched down in front of you. ellie inhales deeply, and places both of her rough hands on your thighs. “hey… whats wrong?” she asks, her voice husky and thick with concern. god — does hearing that caring tone make you want to sob even harder. it tugs at your heartstrings, and you don’t respond. “talk to me… please… uh, let me get you some water?”, and with another hiccup leaving your lips, ellie nods to herself and almost walks away to the kitchen. helplessly, attempting to make her stay, you grab her wrist and sniffle away. “hurts…” you cry, and your eyes flutter open, meeting her worried gaze. her eyebrows are furrowed and her eyes are travelling from your own orbs to your cheek, her hand lifting up to wipe a measly tear away.

you love her so much you think you might scream.

ellie caresses down your thigh now, then down your knee, and then travels further down to your ankle. she plants a tender kiss there, and then on your wrist, waiting for you to reply. “baby, answer me… i… hate seeing you like this” she pleads.

as if on cue, the sharp pain strikes again, like a gentle lightening bolt, shooting through the bottom of your left breast. “think i’m… about to get my period, i dunno… everything hurts” you admit, sniffling. “i’m dramatic, sorry…” you whisper softly, and ellie sighs, shaking her head. “not dramatic, babe… i mean, you know how i get… you cry, and i break stuff… if we really think about it, i'm the dramatic one” she chuckles, tilting her head to the side. she has some light bags underneath her forest green eyes. she must have had a long, exhausting day at work — and here you are sobbing because your boobs hurt. you pout slightly and manage to let out of a small, exhausted giggle. “you don’t break stuff…”, ellie arches a brow and smirks. “no? what about that vase in the bedroom?” 

she's… half right. she didn’t break it on purpose, she was kicking the drawer because she felt like “there’s a demon", on her “cursed fuckin’ useless lesbian uterus” — so the wooden furniture shook, leading to the vase's demise, and it shattered into countless tiny pieces. then, she bought a new vase that didn’t fit the room at all, but you kept it nevertheless. 'ellie’s apology for being an asshole vase' is what she called it, and how could you dispose of such a thing?

it’s corny, really, but you somehow managed to forget you were even crying in the first place. “t’was an ugly vase”, you murmur. ellie plants another small kiss on your thigh and you nearly purr. “you liked that vase, liar”, she teases.

you sit in cozy cocoon of silence, ellie's anecdotes and workplace stories become a soothing distraction. she's careful, almost calculated, as she takes note of every smile that graces your face instead of a wince.

it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

you laugh and giggle, until you don’t. another bolt of striking pain hits your breast. you mewl, and ellie immediately ceases her sentence. “stomach?” she asks, her hand descending to rest on your lower abdomen. her palms are big and warm, and if it did hurt, you’re more than convinced her touch will make it go away. “um… no…”, and although her touch there is comforting, it’s not where the real ache lies. “where?” ellie asks, now lifting herself up and sitting right beside you. she moves the half opened book to the side, scoffing. “that book sucks, by the way… ass story” 

maybe it wasn’t just you.

she caresses down your shoulder, squeezing in affection. “where does it hurt, babe? your back?” she inquires and you hiss again, flinching in pain. “no uh…” you whisper, and then lower your chin, as if you’re attempting to signal ellie to where the pain really stays. she lowers her gaze, blinking thrice before looking up at you. your eyes are glassy and it makes her heart melt and ache. such a pretty crier, and for what? she wonders. “uh… my… y’know… my boobs… they jus’ feel heavy” you whine, your voice a soft, pitiable whisper. ellie takes her bottom lip between her teeth. “poor thing, huh?” she rasps. “owh… hate them…” you mutter, holding a breast between your fingers.

ellie chuckles, trying to seem undistracted by the way your hand is cupping your breast in despair. her poor girl… and her poor tits… — but she still is, worried about you. and she really does care, so she pushes that negligible thought to the side. “well, i like them”, she rasps quietly and cocks her head. “uh, y'know, a lot” she remarks, and she really isn’t trying to turn you on, just distract you again. 

you wrestle with a mischievous smile, damp and sticky eyelashes closing in despair. the juxtaposition is absolutely unheard of — the small river flowing down your cheek, and the smiles that keep involuntary appearing. “just like? you don’t love them?” you playfully prod, and then hiccup when you feel the ache smite again. ellie chuckles and wipes another tear with her calloused palm and not with her finger, and then let’s out of a throaty chuckle. “no i… i love your tits very mu—“ her words are cut short, as she notices you biting your lip, attempting to stifle your laughter. she shoves you playfully and rolls her eyes. “fuck you babe… if you see me blushing, ignore that shit, i swear to god, i’m posessed” — she insists, as if she doesn’t blush when kiss her lips in the morning, as if she doesn’t blush when you get dressed or undressed in front of her, or when you hold her hand and introduce her as your girlfriend.

she’s a raging, awkward blusher and she needs to come to terms with that.

you snigger, but the pain however — is still there. “owh…” you hiccup, and as soon as that thought creeps inside ellie’s mind, she swallows, no — gulps, and places her palm gently on your breast. then, she holds you by the back of your neck and makes you look up at her. “can i help you, babe?” she questions, a quivering breath following her query. your lips part, and you want to say “yes”, it's echoing in your thoughts, but all that comes out is a small sigh of relief. it nearly makes you tremble, your own hand never felt that good. you nod slowly, and ellie nods with you. “just… a little massage, yeah?” she rasps, tongue moistening her bottom lip. all she needs to do is help you find relief from that dull, pinching ache, but all she yearns to do is make you whimper out again. god, ellie…

“close your eyes… i got you” she comforts sympathetically. although her voice is commanding, you don’t follow her demand, because the way her tatted forearm flexes when she spreads her fingers on your breasts, makes you want to watch and be an audience of that glorious show forever. ellie follows your eyes, and then her own — fall down on your aching breasts. “gonna take your bra off… that ok?”, she asks, as if she doesn't already know the answer. you shut your eyes involuntarily, when her finger strokes down on your clothed, aching nipple. “i got you”, she repeats, and as soon as you know it, your bare but swollen breasts are loose, and on full display. they hurt still, but the relief is apparent on your face. ellie bites her lip, and thank god your eyes are closed, because her pupils grew twice in size, and she doesn’t want it to be sexual but she can’t help it when you’re so…

“i really do love them…” she whispers but it's simply to herself, albeit your ears catch it and you “hmm?” in response. “nothing, relax, close your eyes… gonna let ellie take care of you now, yeah?, deep breaths...” — the warmth inside your stomach spreads, and it feels like sweet and sticky lava. you hum, sighing in relief, followed by a small hiccup of pain or… arousal, as soon as ellie takes both of your breasts in her hand and begins kneading them together. it’s all very gentle, albeit her wheeze sounding breaths. when her thumb caresses your nipple, you flinch in the slightest and ellie picks up on it. “right there?” she questions, and when you find her thumb on your swollen nipple again, it’s wet — she licked it, brought her digit inside her mouth and sucked. ellie begins circling the puffy nob, now wet and glistening with her saliva, and your hips buck forward. she hums, “still hurts?” — you want to shake your head no, because it really doesn’t feel like it’s hurting any more, at least not in a bad way, but you nod your head instead. “awh…” she coos, nodding her head again, with you. when ellie hears the small whimper that escapes your mouth, she chuckles. “really… really hurts, pretty girl?” she teases, still keeping her touches light as a feather and nothing but gentle. “yeah… hurts, ellie”, you whisper, and ellie sighs and hums. she traces faint circles on both of your nipples, “think i need to work harder then… huh, poor baby?”, she mutters underneath her breath.

when her hot mouth latches itself onto your nipple, your chest all but buzzes and heaves. a moan that you can’t bring yourself to suppress leaves your mouth, and ellie groans in response. her tongue forms small circles on your nipples, both of her hands still kneading the flesh, lifting it up and then dropping it down. her index and middle finger squeeze your nipples together underneath her tongue and you wince, a small broken sob coming from deep within. she milks the pain away, and if it was perhaps in liquid form, you could say you were sucked dry. “shh, shh…” ellie murmurs. she attaches her mouth back on the nob, now suckling it in and out of her needy, hot mouth. "uh-huh... let go for me", she whispers, gently flicking a nipple up and down.

every time you whimper and cry, she has to squeeze her thighs together — because my god do you tits hurt but her cunt aches even harder.

when ellie takes your nipple out of her mouth, you let out of a small gasp. she wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb, and takes a moment to admire the work of art sitting in front of her. your eyes, closed shut. your bottom lip, in between your teeth, and your breasts — covered up, glistening with her warm saliva. “jesus, i…” she murmurs under her breath. you push your chest forward, an attempt of showing her you’re begging for her mouth again, “hurts, please… ellie, help” you mewl, and with a grunt followed by a whimper, ellie latches on to them again. you open your eyes slowly, looking down at her through wet eyelashes, and when you see her — her eyes are intently shut, her mouth devouring you, forehead covered by sweet beads of thin sweat. “just wanna help you, just… wanna help” she whispers, her tongue pathetically hanging out of her pouty pink lips.

the desire to take her unoccupied hand, and give it a small kiss is strong, but you quickly notice — it is nothing but unoccupied. it’s shoved down her pants, moving with fervour and want. when she opens her eyes and sees that you’re looking, she whimpers a blocked but high pitched sound.  “hurts for me too”, she pats her palm directly on her achy cunt, and it might be unconventional pain-reliever, but perhaps... your ache flowed into her.

<3

[drcranessweetestdoe]

Hiii😻

I’ve got an idea as well: Older husband Cillian showing his young wife how to please him properly xx

Hii, thank you for the request!<3 I am always a sucker for some older husband Cillian:)

Hands on mine

warning: age gap, first time bj, oral (m), dirty and sweet talk, nothing too filthy:)

pairing: older husband!Cillian x younger wife!Reader

summary: Cillian teaches his little wife how to please him

The marriage between them caused a bit of a stir within the crowd, the big age gap was there, but who cares as long as you are utterly in love? Their chemistry was undeniable and the sex was amazing.

But as she was soaking in her bath, she couldn’t stop thinking about one thing. Cillian was always down to keep with his younger wife’s big appetite, doing his best to please her and fuck her until both of their bodies were spent. However, he never asked for her to please him back. It’s not like she didn’t want to, she did, but she was so scared of hurting him in some way. It soothed her that he was perfectly satisfied with her pussy, but sometimes she wished that he would just grab her head and shove his cock down her throat.

Cillian was her first in everything, which meant that she never sucked cock before. She jerked him off for half minutes just before he was about to penetrate her, but nothing more.

As she thought more about it, the more she felt her mouth salivating at the thought of pleasing him. She got out of her bath, dried herself and put on a lacy tank top and cotton panties. She knew that Cill would be in the living room, reading a book on his beloved armchair.

And of course, there he was. In sweatpants and a thin shirt, his reading glasses sat on top of his nose and his face was one of concentration. God, he looked so good.

While he was lost in his book, he suddenly noticed a pair of feet padding into his peripheral vision, before he knew it, his sweet little wife was making herself comfortable on his lap, demanding his complete attention without any words. With his book now put aside on the side table, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.

“Hello there, sweetheart.” He whispered into her ear. He was so smitten with her, he could smell the sweet vanilla scent of her bodywash and his hands caressed her skin that was barely covered. His brows furrowed when he noticed the slight pout on her lips. “What’s wrong?”

She moved to straddle him and moved her face close to his, she looked deeply into his baby blues and said. “I want you to teach me.”

Her closeness made his body warm up. “Teach you what, darling?” He whispered, her cotton clad pussy was sitting right on top of his hardening cock, he could even feel her warm heat.

“I want to please you, suck your cock.” She murmured shyly, which made him chuckle and caress her hair lovingly.

“Oh, my little doe, you had me worried there. But, you just want to be good for daddy, eh?” She just nodded eagerly.

“I-I want to learn how to make you feel good, because you always make me feel so good with your mouth, daddy. I want to do the same thing.” Her hand wandered down to his crotch and started palming him through the thin fabric. He hissed at the sudden contact, her clever little hands felt so good on him.

Before she could take him out, his hands grabbed her face. “Are you sure, little doe? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

She just giggled and kissed him. “I’m sure, daddy.”

“Well, then… On your knees.” He said to her in a deeper voice, the voice when she knew not to disobey him or she would be punished. In contrast to his voice, he planted a kiss on her temple, just so she knew that they could stop anytime.

She dropped to her knees and started to pull his pants down, along with his underwear. Cillian was petting her while she was doing it. “Very good, take me out, my pet.”

His demanding voice made her feel more excited to be finally doing it. When his nearly fully hard dick sprang up in her face and against his stomach, she grabbed it with her delicate hand and started jerking him off slowly. He grunted at the contact, never taking his eyes off of her. “Spit in your palm, it’s going to be better for me and easier for you.” She did as he told her and it actually was better, her hand now gilded easily up and down his member. “You can do it more tightly—“ he put his hands on hers, guiding her. “—just like that. Hands on mine, let’s go a bit faster, hm?” He put his hand back on her head when she had the perfect grip on him.

“Just stay calm and do what feels natural for you.” He sensed her nervousness.

“I-I don’t really know what to do, daddy…” She looked up at him sadly from her kneeling position and he felt his heart melting.

“Okay, so… Start with little kisses, and an occasional little licks here and there.” His voice was laced with pleasure, especially when she planted a kiss on his tip. “Oh, fuck—right there, doe, that is where it feels good for me the most.” She kept on kissing and licking at his tip, tasting the precum that was beading from his slit. His tip was smooth and warm, she enjoyed having it in her mouth. She suddenly had an idea, she ran her wet tongue from his base to his tip, when she got up to the top, she took his pulsing tip into her mouth and sucked on it. “OH—- You’re doing so good… So, so very good for daddy. Keep on sucking.” His hand tangled itself into her silky soft hair. After a few minutes, she let him slip into her mouth a bit more, with hollowing her cheeks she started to bobbing her head up and down on his cock. Her lips smiled around him when she heard his moaning and his fingers tightening in her hair, it felt so rewarding.

She still didn’t relax completely, she was constantly careful not to scrape his sensitive skin with her teeth and she was doing very well.

Feeling his palm pushing her even more down, she was trying to fight the urge to gag. She took a deep sigh and relaxed her throat, letting his big cock slip into her throat. “My god, doe, you are doing amazing! You are pleasing daddy so much!”

She deepthroated him a few times before he pulled her head off of him by her hair. He chuckled darkly when he heard her whining. “Hush, sweetheart. I’m going to show you another thing you can do to make daddy feel good.” Now she was listening with big eyes. “Touch me lower, touch my balls. Lick them, fondle them or suck them.” She lowered her hair to kiss all around his testicles. She gently palmed them and started to kiss them, occasionally letting her tongue dart out for a taste.

When his moans faltered and she got bored, her slightly swollen lips wrapped around his dick again. She let his hand dictate the pace, he was rough and gentle at the same time, something only her husband was capable of doing.

“Just a bit more, my little love.” He urged, barely being able to talk, the feeling of her warm and wet mouth all around him was swallowing him up. He didn’t let her break eye contact, he needed to see his pretty little wife to be able to cum.

He warned her before he came, giving her time to pull off, even if he wanted nothing more than to paint her mouth with his seed and have himself deep in her tummy. To his surprise, she kept on sucking on him and using her hands at the same time. Of course she would swallow, she was his good little girl who was always hungry for his load.

“I’m there! I’m coming, my darling— OHH YES!” She felt her mouth fill with his thick and warm load. She gulped it down eagerly, enjoying the feeling of her belly filling up with him. She pulled off when his meaty thighs twitched from sensitivity, then she gave him one last peck and tucked him back into his pants.

He smiled when she wiped the remaining cum off the corners of her mouth with her fingers, only to lick them clean.

He reached down and put her back in his lap, kissing her all around her face at which she giggled at. He saw that he tired her out, so he gently cooed to her.

“My good little wife, always so good to me. You did so well, the best blowie I ever got. Thank you, my darling.”

She nuzzled her face into his neck, smiling softly and enjoying his gentle caressing.

“Rest now, sweetheart. You deserve it.”

When he felt her nearly falling asleep, he kissed her hair again before picking his book up. His little wife asleep in his lap, with her tummy full of his seed, he smiled knowing that she was his.

taglist: @your-nanas-house @red-riding-wood

[starvingnarcissistmusic]

I should really make a non music blog so that people who like my music don’t get bombarded by random unrelated stuff but this is like tangentially related sort of so whatever

God I just love Mal Du Pays. I am always a sucker for “the enemy is you / the enemy is a manifestation of some part of you” trope in any media but MDP has by far gotta be one of the best applications of it I’ve ever seen.

I mean even just the design of it is brilliant. Obviously inverting a characters colors to get the evil / darker version isn’t anything new for this trope, but ISAT is unique in that you have quite literally been STARING AT MDP THE WHOLE GAME, every single time you die and every single time you loop back. Turning the non diegetic game over screen into a diegetic encounter is incredibly clever and immediately gives MDP that sense of crushing pressure that makes it so memorable.

Also literally any game where the game over music is later established as the motif of a character automatically just wins me over by default. It’s such an effective tool in immediately conveying just what MDP is, even before any of the dialogue starts. It’s the end of this journey. It’s the pain of a home you’ve never known. It’s an entire universe collapsing in on you at once. It’s the end. It’s the end. It’s the end.

And I think, it’s a little Fucked Up, that Siffrin’s sadness looks identical to him. Every other sadness we see in the game is very distinctly not human in appearance, incredibly abstract and inhuman pretty much all around the board. But Mal Du Pays? The sadness of our main character? Pretty much the same. Literally a color swap. I think that’s incredibly telling. A being born of Siffrin’s grief and pain and agony, and the form it takes is his own silhouette.

Thematically, it’s very On The Nose that Siffrin’s worst enemy is simply himself, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you expect. I remember getting to MDP for the first time, seeing Siffrin walk through the void and just… knowing what would come next. Of course it would be another him. For Siffrin, his hell is himself. This nightmarish half-life, devoid of a past and with nothing but a quickly collapsing future, his worst impulses and fears and agonies and pains personified, and all it looks like is his shadow. Of course, what else could be here, at his lowest of lows, but a reflection? Of course there would be nothing here but you. It’s always only ever been you. Mal Du Pays is a mirror. A mirror that hates you like you do, that loathes you like you loathe yourself. In the worst, most monstrous way possible, it tells you exactly what you’ve been telling yourself your whole journey. And so you believe it, let it sink its words into your skin and bury you in the misery. Because maybe then, maybe when you finally give in, it won’t hurt anymore.

(A cold comfort is still, however little it may be, a comfort.)

And then you’re saved. The King is defeated, your friends came back for you, you manage to come up for air again. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Everything is still coming to an end. You’re still going to be all alone. And so, you sink again.

Notice how Bigfrin doesn’t have a face in this panel? This is Siffrin at their most self destructive, most desperate, lower than lower than low. And in a way, I think that by quite literally looking like the Sadness they nearly created, they’re symbolically drawing a parallel there. Siffrin fully embraces what Mal Du Pays represented, to the point that their new form looks just like it. Even if they didn’t manifest MDP, they are just as horrible. After all, the mirror goes both ways. Mal Du Pays looks just like Siffrin, but that also means that Siffrin looks just like Mal Du Pays. And maybe, in Siffrin’s head, they’re one and the same. Maybe they’ve always been.

Oh god it’s 1 in the morning. I did not mean to make this that long lmao w h o o p s

uhhhhhh in summary tldr mdp is very good isat is also very good play isat

(also if you want more MDP content, I sort of wrote a whole song about it. So listen to that if you’d like. Im goin to bed)

[adventuringblind]

i’m a sucker for anything with protective charles, i feel like he would always be looking out for his gf or wife…ugh just the thought? 🫣

Car Crash and a Ferrari Mishap

Charles Leclerc x Driver!reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Request: yes and I am also a sucker for this.

Summary: even though Charles knows she drives one of the fastest cars in the world, he can’t help but worry.

Warnings: car crash, injury descriptions, protective Charles, ferrari race engineers not doing their job

Notes: written in third person

Masterlist

It had become a typical thing for Charles to worry. He worried more than people thought he did. His lover, however, knee everything about it because he was mainly worrying about her.

He'd lost so many people in his life already. He struggled with separation anxiety and would panic every time she got sick.

It didn't matter that she's a driver for Ferrari. It didn't matter that she's one of the most talented athletes. He worried about her.

Their relationship was public. Mostly because Lando struggles to keep things tight-lipped. It was a great thing, though, as their team had found. Marketing and content wise, they did some things together that everyone adored.

Working in a male dominated field meant dealing with uncomfortable questions. Ones that.nade Charles' skin crawl. He didn't hesitate to jump in and answer them himself. Sometimes, he and Max would use as a way to banter with each other, effectively angering the reporter or journalist.

Races were always terrifying before he got in the car. He made sure that he saw her before every race and kissed her good luck. Reminding her not to be reckless.

This race happened to be ridiculously hot. It felt like he would melt to the floor every time he stepped into the sun.

He found her before the walked to the grid. "Mon amour, are you sure you can race like this?"

She'd already been feeling faint. She hadn't told Charles, but the team had been controlling her water and food intake. They wanted her weight exact, and she had been over that a few days ago.

He could tell she wasn't feeling well. He always knew when someway off. Regardless, she just smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

It took a few laps before she tried for water. Dissapintment flooding her veins as she got nothing.

"Is the water system not working?"

"Negative, keep pushing."

She sighs in frustration but keeps going. Pushing her hardest.

She was almost there. Fifteen laps left. Her mouth terribly dry. Her mind shut down more with each lap. She needed to finish.

She'd stopped sweating. Her body lacks the required liquids to do so. Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Then everything went dark.

~

"Red flag Charles, red flag." Xavi announces from the radio.

Charles slows down the car. Hot and tired. He was excited to finish the race, and now he'd have to wait longer.

He pulls into the pits. He was expecting to see her there already. As far as he was aware, she was ahead of him.

He climbs out of the car, immediately asking about her. Nobody could give him a straight answer.

Five minutes and still nothing. Then the replay of the crash came on the screen.

Her body going limp in the car. Her foot is still accelerating down one of the straights. She hits the corner, and the car is spinning. Then nothing.

It looked bad. He knew it was bad. Words of frantic French and Italian leave his lips.

It takes Pierre, Max, and Lando holding him back to keep him in the pits. He was screaming at the race engineers. Asking how that could have happened.

He's kicking and screaming like a child as the boys drag him back to his room. His performance coach tried to get him to slow his breathing. Still fresh off the adrenaline from driving.

"I don't understand." He sobbed.

"She didn't have water." Andrea confesses.

Charles pauses. His brain fitting together all the peices. "Have they been trying to get her to lose weight?"

"Yes, which is odd, I was talking to her coach, who said she was already under what she deemed the lowest weight that was still healthy."

Oh, Charles was furious. It made sense now. Why she'd been so exhausted this past week.

He stormed out of the room. Angry words be yelled at every engineer.

Pierre was translating to the boys who don't know French. All of them also getting angry.

"I retire the car." Charles states. Grabbing his helmet and running out to the crash site.

They still hadn't gotten her out. The front of the car has been smashed in. They had cut the halo off, but her body was jammed at a weird angle. A stray peice of metal had found its way into her arm. Her neck already looked bruised.

Charles was a wreck at this point.

The Marshall's used him as a navigator. He was able to get into the cockpit and move things around. It felt like forever until he was riding with her to the medical center.

He pulled her helmet and balaclava off gently. The white fabric dotted with specks of red.

He held her hand and sobbed the entire ride.

~

He wasn't doing much better when people came by after the race.

He was teary-eyed and nauseous. The nurses kept refilling his water. It felt horribly ironic.

He knew he disappointed his fans. They wanted to see him race, and here he was. Crying over his lover in the hospital.

He just needed to see her.

Sebastian came to see him first. Though he was followed by the one person he really didn’t want to see. Seb and Mattia were talking in hushed voices. Seb looked two seconds away from punching him.

“I don’t want to see you.” Charles announced to his team principle.

“I came to see if she’s okay.”

Charles was going to unleash his anger on the Ferrari principal, but the doctor calling her name interrupted him.

“How is she.” Charles voice was definitely more panicked then he would’ve liked but it was to much effort to hide it and there were no cameras here anyways.

“The bones in her calves are crushed. The cut in her arm has been stitched up but we might need to open it up again to check for any missed metallic bits. Just to air on the side on caution and avoid any infections. She has a severe concussion and is severely dehydrated.” The doctor attempts to explain to him, but Charles is trying to stop himself from panicking. “For what it’s worth, it could have been much worse.”

Charles is brought back to earth by Sebs hand in his shoulder. “You should go see her.” His former teammate nods him along.

~

Charles sits on the uncomfortable plastic chair. His mind wanting to stay awake but his body giving out.

She looked so peaceful sleeping. Her chest rising and falling in even motions.

He almost missed her eyes fluttering open and her hand squeezing his. Charles was standing in a second, trying to stop her from moving to much.

She was panicking. Her heart rate increasing dramatically. Charles sat himself in the edge of her bed. His hand running across her hair.

"The race. Oh god- I'm so sorry."

"No, don't think about that. Just rest." Whoever told her to push so hard without water should be fired.

"Did you win?"

"No, but I don't care. I care that you're awake a safe."

She hums at him. The feeling of his hands bringing a calm sensation back.

"Charles, it hurts."

"I'll go grab a doctor. Don't try to move."

He's out of the room in a flash. Only coming back when he has a nurse in tow.

They up the pain meds and bring her some water. The IV fluids are already helping, but her mouth is so dry that she needs to drink it.

Charles is attentive. He barely leaves her side unless it's absolutely neccecary.

~

[hughes86-43]

“I’d kiss you if I didn’t just throw up” with Jack in which the reader is sick and Jack takes care of her. 😍

okkkk anon, love this idea (sucker for taking care of reader)

“I’d kiss you if I didn’t just throw up”

warnings - sickness

-

It was sometime around 4 am, but honestly, you weren’t really sure. You’d been up for around an hour with your stomach hurting. However, you turned to lay on your side, thinking it would help but it didn’t, and now you’re running to the bathroom.

You open up the lid to the toilet and begin throwing up all that you had in you. Within seconds, you feel someone come into the bathroom and kneel down beside you to hold your hair up. You spent probably five minutes in that position, with Jack rubbing circles on your back and whispering sweet nothings. You could feel your body slowly becoming weaker now there was nothing left in you.

You take a second to recover then reach to flush the toilet and close the lid. You groan out, “I think I’m done.”

“I’ll get you a washcloth after I put your hair into a ponytail,” Jack says as he reaches over to grab one of your hair ties on the counter. “Here, baby, lean over here some.” He gently guides your hips closer to him, trying not to move you to fast incase your stomach is still upset. “Stay there and I’ll grab you a washcloth.”

You groan out another mumbled response and lean back against the wall. “I feel like crap, my stomach has been killing me for an hour,” you say to Jack who is wetting a washcloth under the sink.

He rings it out and walks over to place it on your forehead. “Here this might help a bit, you’re burning up.” He sits down beside you against the shower and rubs circles on your thigh.

You relish in the comforting touch he gives you and how much he cares for you. You slowly lean your head onto his shoulder and whisper to him, “I’d kiss you if I didn’t just throw up.”

He lets out a smooth laugh, and says, “It’s okay, love. There’s plenty of other times for kisses. As soon as you brush your teeth, you’ll get a kiss.” You laugh at his response, and you can feel your eyelids about to close.

Jack must notice because he starts to get up. “Baby, if you’re feeling okay, let’s head back to bed.” You just nod your head as he picks you up to take you back to bed.