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ma1dita · 3 months ago

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A Luke and Trouble smut in the car

a/n: she's back.... and with a trouble!verse smut gasp. anyways if you haven't read the series all you need to know is luke calls her trouble. if you do wanna check it out, read 'partners in crime' here!

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader

wc: 1.1k

“We’re gonna be late,” you grumble under your breath. The sun is setting on Long Island faster than you and your boyfriend thought it would with the old hatchback slowly inching through Queens traffic.

There’s only an hour left before curfew.

And Luke Castellan drives like someone’s blind grandpa.

“Relax, babe—once we get onto the expressway, we’ll be straight sailing from there!” Luke says, with a hint of a smile prodding at his cheek. You were never a patient person, fidgeting in the passenger seat next to him, sweaty thighs stuck to worn leather. The air vents are tired, sounding like gasping coughs, and every car in New York City seems to be inching forward and unable to pick up the breeze.

“You said that forty minutes ago.”

“C’mon, it’s not all that bad, trouble. We get to have some extra time together. And be alone,” his voice is as smooth as the rumbling engine, taking his fingertips to the soft of your thigh. You’d find him sweet if you didn’t feel like ripping all your clothes off right now. “You know how rare that is for us.”

“M’just so hot, babe. I feel like I’m fucking dying,” you groan, exaggeratedly flopping over the console and onto his shoulder. He doesn’t mind being stuck to you like this, wet skin and shiny lips nuzzling against his neck and he licks a drop of sweat from his cupid’s bow. Your gentle kisses sear onto his skin and he has to inhale deeply, almost eyeing the horizon and daring for it to darken slower. Foot tapping on the brake a little too harshly, the car is a toe away from rolling into the one in front of you.

“You’re not going to die. Would be lame if you did.”

“But baby, it’s like I’m about to explode,” you whine louder, “feels like we’re sitting on the surface of the sun!” Even at his wits’ end, your boyfriend can’t find the gall to get mad at you. Especially when your tank top flies into his lap, right over the growing bulge in his shorts that’s keeping him hot and bothered. Luke almost goes nonverbal at the goosebumps that rise—and you haven’t even touched him yet. You’re fumbling with something, knocking around in your seat as he shakes his head and tries to focus on the road.

“Don’t.”

The car behind you honks slightly and he swallows dryly, running his hand through the wet mop of curls as he rolls forward. Fuck New Jersey drivers, he thinks, this guy shouldn’t have gotten a license—what!

“You should’ve just let me drive,” your voice disrupts his inner monologue, and he doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re grinning, “Would’ve gotten there faster than you, speedster.”

You know exactly what you’re doing.

“We’re gonna be late.” Hand flexing over the gear shift, his eyes dart across the road, quickly mapping out a path to the next exit. Your panties fall over his fist, a flash of black lace and damp with something other than just sweat.

“Aren’t you a son of Hermes? Make it work.”

Horns honking like a symphony, he weaves through traffic almost dangerously fast and not being able to do anything else but bite his lip when he hears you laugh through the chaos of it all.

—

“Sh–Shit! We’re gonna…”

Luke’s the one laughing now as he slaps a hand over your throat, pistoning deeper into your warmth, and fuck, everything about you feels like fire. It’s the type of burn that licks at you from the inside out—but Luke tends to it with vigor, feeling you with every inch of his being. Your hands slap onto his wrist to hold him there, eyes rolling back into your head with wispy breaths of bliss.

It’s dark now, and you’ve both somewhat safely stopped the car in a wooded area—Luke ripping off the rest of your clothes and his own before taking you belly-up in the backseat and your calves sitting pretty against his shoulders.

“Be late? You weren’t worried about that earlier,” he teases.

The illegal fireworks and other illicit goods you’re trying to smuggle back to camp jostle in a box on the ground, digging painfully into his shins but he’s too busy stamping his hands into the shape of your breasts, rubbing you down with the mixture of both of your sweat that rolls with the momentum of your bodies.

“Fuck, Luke!”

Looking down at you with heat in his gaze, his thumb prods at your swollen lips, tapping lightly for you to open up. You do without a single complaint. He loves you, yes—even when you’re mouthy, but you look extra pretty when he gets to fuck you dumb and there’s no one around to bother you two. Grunting, you can feel and hear your skin slap against his when he leans forward to delve deeper if it’s even possible. All of you is red-hot from his passion, cock thrusting harshly so much that you can feel it slam against your insides.

For a moment you think he must hate you—dancing on the line of hot and hurt.

Your eyes lock and you both grin.

“Let me take care of it. Gonna let me take care of you, right pretty girl?” He spits, a straight shot into your waiting mouth and an inhuman noise crawls up from your caged throat.

Leaning up to kiss him and grappling at his shoulders, he smiles into your pout, smeared lipgloss and runny mascara transferring onto his tanned skin. He loves it, knowing that you’re all over him and feeling branded by you even in the dark of the night.

A light flashes in your peripherals and you pull off him with a gasp.

“Is that a car?”

“We’re fine,” he grits, locking your legs around his waist and trying to focus—you’re so soft and soaking all over. His hands slip to your ass, clapping your cheek as he jerks his cock into you harder, making you whine. “They’re not… going this direction. Stop getting distracted.”

The heat builds from your core, pussy pulsing, and tears almost sizzling off your cheeks, so shiny and tempting that he licks a trail up to your ear.

“I don’t want you to stop. Don’t… you dare, Luke. Fuck!”

Light filters through the darkness behind your eyelids as you grind yourself on his lap rapidly, chasing your high until the end. In a few hours from now, it’s back to business—but Luke has always been one to remind you of your mischievous side.

“Shit, trouble,” he sighs in bliss.

A blip of a siren goes off from outside, followed by quickly approaching footsteps towards your foggy windows.

“Shit,” you repeat back to him with wide eyes, untangling your legs and quickly trying to find your magic Zippo lighter through the mess of clothes at your feet.

—

Lessons were learned, and Connor and Travis were elected to go on supply runs from then on.

#luke castellan x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #luke castellan smut #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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pathologicalreid · 7 months ago

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Spencer x fem!reader fic based on “Work Song” by Hozier?? Whatever storyline or category you want!!

work song | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, near death experience, blood, gunshot wound, hospitals. word count: 1.77k a/n: hozier song request makes my brain go brr. i hope the people of tumblr enjoy this bc i most definitely enjoyed writing it.

boys, when my baby found me

Your hair whipped your face as you spun around through the labyrinth of a warehouse that your team had found themselves in. It seemed like an impossible task, trying to navigate this space, but you had already cleared over half of the space.

A small noise, like a shoe squeaking, caught your attention, causing your ears to rise like an animal hunting for prey. Turning a corner, you had your flashlight and firearm raised, coming face to face with Morgan. The both of you relaxed ever so slightly, no longer ready to pounce.

Ricocheting throughout the warehouse, you heard a deafening gunshot. The sound bounced off of the metal walls of the building, making it almost impossible for you to determine where the sound originated from. Meeting Morgan’s eyes, he nodded his head to the left, signaling for you to go that way while he went right.

You affirmed his tactics, turning slowly and making your way to the left. The rusted building was now so eerily quiet that goosebumps were sprouting across your body, even under your bureau jacket.

Continuing your way down the narrow passageway, you saw movement inside of a room. Sliding your back along the wall, you peeked into the room, seeing two bodies on the ground. You whispered almost imperceptibly into your radio, calling for medical. One of them was the local officer that the BAU had been working the case with.

The other one was Spencer.

You pivoted so that you were entirely in the doorway, facing the UnSub, he raised his gun at you, but you were already pulling the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. Breathing heavily, you lowered your firearm before scrambling over to Spencer.

I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her

In your ear, you could hear Morgan shouting, “Y/N, Reid, sound off, dammit!”

Something needed to happen. You needed to do something, but you had such severe tunnel vision that the only thing you could think about was Spencer.

He was gasping for air on the metal ground of the warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. You observed in horror as the red puddle spread with each passing moment.

Launching into action, you tugged your jacket off, stuffing the fabric onto Spencer’s side in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Even Kevlar vests had an Achilles heel, and the UnSub had managed to strike him precisely where there was a gap in the material. All the while, you were muttering the words, “Stay awake.” Just those two words, over and over again, like a prayer.

You hummed, using one hand to apply pressure to his wound and lifting the other so that you could smooth his hair back. His skin was alarmingly clammy, and you knew that, even with your attempts, he was losing too much blood. “Y/N,” he muttered, sounding like he was using all of his strength to say your name.

Gently, you hushed him, “It’s okay, Spence. Don’t talk, you’re gonna be just fine,” you insisted as his blood soaked through the knees of your jeans. You weren’t sure who you were trying to console at that moment.

“It makes sense-“ he said, being cut off by a cough, sending blood spurting out of his mouth. If his lung was collapsing, there was nothing you’d be able to do. You tried to shush him again, but he had more to say – he almost always did. “That I’d see you while I’m dying.”

Choking on tears, you leaned your face onto your shoulder so that you could wipe them away without moving your hands. “I’m here, I’m really here,” you urged, he wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dying. Not on your watch. “It’s me, Spence. I’m right here,” you told him carefully.

He opened his mouth again to speak, and you wanted to tell him to save his strength. You also didn’t want to deprive him of his words. “You…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words, “You’ve always been my favorite dream.”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’m not a dream, I’m right here.” You told him, watching carefully as his eyelids grew seemingly heavier, “baby, open your eyes.”

in the low lamplight I was free

His skin was pallid. Even in the dim, orange light of the warehouse, you could see a sickly sheen forming on his skin. His body temperature was dropping, and it was all you could do to not cover his body with yours as you tried to keep him warm. “Spencer, please,” you rasped, urging him to open his eyes.

Your only solace was that his chest was still rising and falling. His breathing was rickety, but he was still breathing, and that had to count for something. “Spencer,” you cried, watching as blood sept through your jacket, flooding between your fingers as you tried to keep him in one piece.

“Love, open your eyes,” you begged, your eyes flooding with tears until everything was just a blur of red.

His heart was beating, you could feel it beneath your hands. A weak, unsteady beat under your trembling hands. “Baby, please, oh my god,” you pleaded, verging toward incoherent babbling.

You were second-guessing if he was still breathing. If his heart was still beating. With that realization, you screamed.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

At first, you were just screaming, letting the vibrations of your vocal cords portray your emotions, and then you screamed for your team. You had never felt more alone, kneeling in a puddle of Spencer’s blood, and no one was coming to help you.

This couldn’t be how it ended. You refused to acknowledge it, even as you felt the life leave his body.

Leaning your head to the side, you spoke into your radio, “I need medical. I’m in the upper west wing of the building. The suspect is dead, I have an officer and an agent down.” Tears continued to stream down your face.

You heard footsteps behind you as people piled into the room, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Spencer. Not when there was a chance that it would be the last time you looked at him while you were both still breathing. “Agent,” someone said, but it didn’t register. They kept repeating themselves until two strong arms wrapped around you, dragging you away from Spencer.

Now sat on the floor, you clocked the paramedics that were now frantically working on Spencer, packing his wound, and cutting off the Kevlar vest.

Breathing heavily, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Rossi approached the local officer, checking his pulse. Emily was hovered over the UnSub, collecting his weapon from his corpse.

You were still being firmly held back, trying to pry the tattooed arms of Derek Morgan off of your torso. “Stop, let me get to him. I need to get to him,” you struggled against his grip, but any attempts at freedom were futile. The medics were saying awful things about a weak and thready pulse and pneumothorax.

Clinging to any semblance of hope that you could find, you listened to them talk about Spencer’s pulse, knowing that a pulse meant he was alive.

Your breathing quickened as you looked up at Morgan, Hotch was hovering behind the two of you, “I should’ve called for medical sooner.” Your voice was miserable, you had sat there with your jacket to his side for far too long. He could’ve gotten help from professionals.

“You radioed almost five minutes ago for medical,” Morgan informed you. “The EMTs just couldn’t find you in this damn maze.”

While you had no recollection of calling for help when you first found Spencer, you also knew that Morgan would get no pleasure out of lying to you.

You heard one of the paramedics say there was no pulse, and you didn’t remember anything that followed.

no grave can hold my body down

Crumpled in a ball, you picked at the crusted blood in your fingernails as you focused on the steady beeping of Spencer’s heart monitor.

According to Emily, who had been there when you woke up in the hospital, you had passed out around the time that the medics lost Spencer’s pulse. The doctor said it was just a result of stress. Thanks to some IV fluids and hydroxyzine, you were able to be discharged.

Spencer had been out of surgery for several hours now. The doctors had been careful to use the term “if he wakes up”, while you had made sure to say “when he wakes up.” You were playing the most horrendous waiting game, and there’s nothing worse than playing a game you have no interest in.

You were now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an old Academy t-shirt. Being the only team member permitted to see Spencer while he was still sleeping – girlfriend privileges, as Morgan phrased it – you waited with only the noises of his monitor to keep you company in the ICU.

Nurses came in and out, trying to manage his pain without the use of narcotics, making sure his blood transfusions were helping, and every once in a while, they’d check on you.

At this point, you had been nursing the same cup of ice water for hours, remembering the last thing Spencer had said to you: You’ve always been my favorite dream.

There was something so peculiar about being with someone who read so much, especially when he said such eloquent things while bleeding to death. You sighed, slumping back in the chair, you looked back at Spencer, only to be surprised that he was looking right back at you.

You jumped slightly in the chair, leaning over so that you could look at him, “Hey,” you whispered, maintaining the reverent tones of the Intensive Care Unit. “How do you feel?”

He’d lie to you and tell you he was fine, but you could tell by the way his heart rate increased that it was a lie. His eyebrows furrowed as he clocked the white patient ID bracelet on your wrist and your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been crying,” he observed.

Despite yourself, you smiled softly, “I thought you were dead.” Your voices were each raspy, yours from screaming and his from being intubated.

Slowly, he unfolded his arm so that his hand was extended to you. Without a second thought, you placed your hand in his. He hummed softly, “And leave you? Never.”

I’ll crawl home to her

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #margot's requests #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid whump #criminal minds whump

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mistiell · 1 year ago

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The one request that’s bouncing around my head is Astarion dealing with a sick mc like fever chills and no sense of balance because of vitiligo

Hope you enjoy <3 WC: 1.3k

---

You feel like shit. Total and utter shit.

What started as a sore throat has evolved into a fever and chills, along with an absolutely skull splitting migraine. The sheets twist uncomfortably as you turn onto your back, clinging to your sweat slicked skin. You can’t bring yourself to kick them off. Not when the ache in your bones makes it feel like they’re breaking.

The sun has been up for nearly an hour, now. If you don’t come out soon, one of your companions will come get you. A strangled whimper forces it’s way out of your throat as you force yourself up, curling in on yourself and dropping your face into your hands.

After trying to decide between attempting to take a breath through your sufficiently stuffed nose or through your mouth, you choose the latter. Which you realize is a terrible mistake when it suddenly feels like a thousand tiny knives are skinning the inside of your throat. It makes you cough, which makes it a million times worse, which makes you cough even more.

It’s a good minute until you can finally breathe again; throat raw, beads of tears drying on your lashes. You’re sure you’re a sorry sight. It makes you glad no one is here to see you in all your disease ridden glory.

“Sweet Hells, are you hacking up a lung in here–?” Not even all the way inside your tent yet, Astarion stops immediately after he lays eyes on you. The disgust is immediately replaced by a hesitant sort of concern, brows just barely creasing, “Oh dear.”

“Do I look that bad?” He grimaces at the way your voice grates, gaze flitting over various parts of you before he meets your eyes again.

“You look dreadful.” You think it’s meant to be playful, but he looks and sounds just a little too concerned for it to land that way.

You snort anyway, rubbing at your sweaty forehead, “Thanks.”

He hovers there, uncharacteristically quiet as he glances outside before sighing and coming the rest of the way inside. He’s still in his regular clothes, which makes you think the others haven’t started getting their armour on yet. Thank gods.

He sits down in front of you on your bedroll, knees barely a hair’s width from yours as he cradles the nape of your neck in a gentle hand and presses the inside of his wrist to your forehead. Eyes fluttering shut, a small sigh of relief escapes you when his blessedly cool skin meets yours. You barely think about it as you place a sluggish hand over it to keep him there.

“You’re nice and cool.” You sound listless.

“And you’re about as hot as the hells.” He sighs. You can hear the frown in his voice, “This has gotten out of hand.”

Peeling your eyes open, you blink at him in confusion, “What?”

He lets his wrist fall but keeps a kind hold on your neck, looking deadly serious.

“I know how much you love flattery, but you should know you really don’t have to go to such lengths to get me to wax poetic about your eternal beauty.” It seems like he can’t help the smile that cracks that through the act he’s putting on, “I truly appreciate the effort, but a simple, ‘Astarion, my dearest love, tell me I’m pretty.’ would do just fine.”

A giggle bubbles up from your throat, and you list forward to hide your face in his shoulder as you rasp weakly, “I do not sound like that.”

He hums, giving your nape a gentle squeeze before stroking a little line behind your ear with his thumb. You can feel his teasing smile against the side of your head, “Thankfully not. Should you ever call me your dearest love, I fear I may just drop dead a second time.”

Your laughter dies down, and you’re left with an astronomical wave of fatigue. He wraps his free arm around you when you slump further into him.

“Darling?” He jostles you a little bit. Again, he attempts a joke. Again, he’s too worried for it to come out right, “Don’t go dying on me now. With all we’ve been through, it would be such a waste.”

You huff a small, breathy puff of laughter, turning your face so the bridge of your nose rests against the side of his neck, “I won’t.”

He eases his hand up and down the length of your spine. You barely register it when he turns his head just enough to nose at your temple briefly.

“You should lay back down.” His voice is softer now. The feeling of his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear makes you shiver. Although, that could also be the fever.

You sigh, pulling yourself away from his shoulder. The movement sends the world tilting over and over in one direction. Breath hitching, you feel yourself sway as your eyes squeeze shut.

“What’s wrong?” He sounds a little alarmed as you drop your head into your hands.

“Vertigo.” You breathe. Everything keeps spinning behind your eyelids.

You can hear him shift before his hands find one of your forearms and your shoulder blades, guiding you to lay back.

“I have to–.”

He cuts you off, suddenly stern, “The only thing you have to do right now is rest.”

“But the others–.” You try again. It’s in vain.

Scoffing, he turns his nose up. “The others can shove it, as far as I’m concerned.”

You huff, ready to argue until you open your eyes and notice the anxious quirk of his brows. Instead, you sigh, sluggishly placing you hand over his, “Fine.”

You just barely manage to hear the small breath of relief that escapes him as he turns his hand to give yours a squeeze. He leans forward to press his lips to your forehead before pulling away, “I’ll be right back.”

You only nod.

He comes back five minutes later with a small bowl of water, a cloth, and two slices of bread balanced carefully in his arms.

“You don’t have to eat it yet.” Is all he says as he sets the plate down a little ways away. After wetting the cloth, he rings it out into the bowl and folds it in half before laying it over your forehead. You sigh as it cools your skin. It only lasts a few moments before your skin has warmed it again.

He tries again, then again, before huffing; frustrated.

“I’m sorry.” You croak, and he tuts, shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize, darling. It’s not you.” He sighs, looking properly perturbed now.

“Maybe Shadowheart–.”

“I asked. There’s nothing she can do.” It comes out bitterly, but you know it’s only because he’s worried.

You suddenly have an idea, but first you have to ask, “Can you get sick?”

Looking confused, he shakes his head, “No, I can’t. But, what-?” Pulling back the covers, you open your arms. It clicks, and he chuckles as he climbs in beside you, “Plan to use me as an ice pack, do you?”

“That’s the plan.” It comes out more deadpan than you mean it to. It makes him laugh a little harder, and you can feel the vibrations as your head settles over his chest. Having him next to you is like a balm in more ways than one.

Eyes heavy, you sigh as his hand trails idly along the length of your bicep. You guess he can hear your breathing and heart rate slowing when he whispers, “Sleep, my love.”

And who are you to deny him when he asks so nicely?

#astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3

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taintedtort · 8 months ago

Text

"stop sniffling," you heard toji‘s deep, tired voice rumble beside you, his back facing you.

"i’m sick, asshole," you mumble back, your voice stuffy and congested as you blow your nose for the nth time.

"who’s fault is that?"

you suppose he’s right. he did tell you not to go out in the snow last night, but you just wanted to walk in it for a little while. it looked so pretty!

but now here you were, up at midnight with a stuffy nose and sore throat, your sneezing and sniffling keeping toji up as well.

"i think i'm dying," you mumble dramatically, a pout on your lips as you turn to look at toji's back. you hear him sigh before he’s turning over to face you, giving you a tired and exasperated look.

"you're not dying, you'll be fine."

"i'm sorry."

"for what?"

"keeping you awake."

he rolls his eyes at your sudden apology, and you huff at the sight. you’re just trying to be nice!

"you’re such a grumpy old man," you mumble, your voice sounding congested as you can’t breathe through your nose.

"you’re a brat who doesn’t listen," he retorts dryly, too tired to deal with you and your sickness. you simply sulk at his words, knowing he’s right. you did feel bad for keeping him up, especially after he warned you not to go outside, but the memory was worth it to you.

"at least we got to play in the snow… and it’s good that only i got sick." toji stares at you for a second, an unreadable expression on his face. you blink in surprise as you see the subtle nod of his head, like he’s agreeing with you.

"the snow was alright, 's too cold though," he grumbles, rubbing at his half lidded eyes. however, you know him better than that. he definitely had fun messing around with you outside, even if he didn’t admit it.

"i’d rather me be sick than you though, i wish you weren’t," he mumbles, and you almost don’t hear it. his eyes are closed now, not being able to keep them open from the exhaustion creeping up on him.

"aww, toji! that’s so sweet—"

"cus you complain too much, 's annoying." he cuts you off, his words laced with playfulness so you know he’s just kidding.

he grunts as you shove him, though you cough right after and it makes him grin at your instant karma.

"you’re mean. i’m sick and i’m dying, you could be nicer—"

he cuts you off once again when he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. he holds you close, his chin resting atop your head.

"shut up and try to get some sleep, i'm fuckin' exhausted," he murmurs near your ear, his sleepy voice reaching your ears and making you smile.

it’s rare toji cuddles you like this, so you fully embrace it, nuzzling closer into the warmth of his chest. after a beat of silence, you hear his deep voice once again.

"if you get me sick i'll be pissed."

"asshole," you huff back, jabbing him lightly in the side, causing him to let out a strained noise from low in his throat.

"goodnight, brat."

"…night, toji." ♡

☆ this is sitting in my drafts and i wanna get rid of it, so here

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qatarsprint2023 · 9 months ago

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Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when she’s really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and I’m so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!

~🎀

Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, 🎀<3

Sick days and Race weekends— LN4

Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. — Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k

Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.

Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.

But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.

You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.

He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.

But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.

You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.

"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concur— after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"

"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.

Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.

"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.

"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."

"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."

Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.

"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"

"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.

"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.

"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"

"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.

"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"

#f1 #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #comfort #sick #fluff #qatarsprint2023 #reader grew up on a farm #us gp 2023

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 months ago

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Too Much (Little Sister Version)

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @redbird-tf

Synopsis: you have nightmares of dying like Mary, and you start to get really clingy with Dean.

It started out in a subtle way. Your first nightmare had been vague, and though it had jarred you, it wasn’t enough to curb your day-to-day activities…much.

“I’m going for a supply run.” Dean’s words had you looking up from the homework you’d been working on. “We’re out of beer…and food.”

“I’ll come.” You were on your feet before the words even left your mouth.

“It’s just a quick run,” Dean argued. “Don’t you have homework?”

“It can wait,” you insisted, already on your way to the Impala. “Let’s go!”

Of course it would be Dean—it had always been Dean. Sure, he had his anger issues and his bad moments. He drank too much and he isolated himself when he was upset. But he always came back; when Sam was at Stanford, when dad disappeared, it was always you and Dean.

So when you started having nightmares about burning on the ceiling, Dean was who you turned to.

Scary things shouldn’t phase you anymore, not after all you’d seen. But this was different. Your whole life you’d heard “what happened to mom.” Never any specifics—it was always, “the demon killed mom,” or “what the demon did to Mary.” Nobody ever gave you any details; they always said you didn’t need to know.

So when you snuck into Dean’s room in the bunker and stole dad’s journal, you were in for a surprise.

The pages you’d read had been stuck together—it didn’t look like anyone had read them—and it took you a moment to peel them apart.

I went to visit a shrink today—I thought he might be a vampire. I went in undercover, booked myself an appointment. I figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t a monster, but I didn’t leave. It sounds stupid, but I actually talked to him. Told him about Mary. Well, as much as I could tell, which is more than I’ve told anyone. Point is, he told me to write down what happened to her. Every detail I could remember. I don’t like thinking about her…but maybe he was right. Little Sammy asked about Mary just the other day, and I yelled at him. I still feel bad…it’s not his fault, he’s just a kid. Maybe this is the only way I’ll be able to talk about her, but maybe that’ll be enough to keep me from going off on the kids. So here goes…

And John had laid out every gory detail of that night, and you’d read the whole thing. You’d always thought it would be better knowing; that it would somehow bring you some extra closure to know how your mother’s final moments went. You were wrong.

And so came the nightmares. The first one was fuzzy and indistinct; a fire, the sound of screaming. But it was enough to have you going with Dean whenever he left the bunker.

The second one was more vivid. It was also when you realized that it wasn’t your mother you were dreaming about—it was you.

It was so real—you felt the demon’s powers slashing open your stomach, you felt your body lifting off the floor…

But the worst part was the heat. It stung your eyes and sizzled against your blood and seared your skin. You tried to scream, but the smoke choked you and stopped your voice. You struggled to inhale, coughing on the smoke and crying at the pain that lit up every nerve ending.

The bright light of the fire left first, then slowly afterwards the pain. But you were still choking and gasping for breath when you sat up in your bed.

“Dean,” you whimpered, the lone word echoing through your empty room. You weren’t quite used to the bunker yet—you were so used to the motels, where your brothers were right next to you at all times. Most of the time it was annoying, but right now…

You threw your covers off you, finally getting a hold of your runaway breathing as you padded barefoot towards your door. You couldn’t stay in this room—it was this room that you’d dreamt of, this ceiling that you’d burned on.

You flung your door open and started down the hall, but you only got halfway to Dean’s room before you stopped. You couldn’t go to him like this, a tear-streaked mess in the middle of the night; he would know something was wrong, and then you’d have to talk about it.

You couldn’t talk about it.

A bang from the kitchen stole your attention and your breath, your mind wandering towards images of a yellow-eyed intruder. You tip-toed to the kitchen, peaking around the corner and breathing easily when you saw Dean rummaging in the fridge for a beer.

You slipped into the kitchen, heading straight for Dean.

“You’re up early,” he greeted, stiffening in surprise when you wrapped your arms around him. “Hey, something wrong?”

“No,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Good morning,” you added lamely as you pulled away, as if the greeting would explain away the hug.

“Yeah, mornin.” Dean shrugged, choosing to ignore your strange behavior. “Couldn’t sleep? It’s only 5.”

It was later than you’d thought.

“Not really,” you said. “Can we make breakfast?” You weren’t hungry, but you’d take any excuse to keep Dean close.

“Only if you get the bacon,” Dean said with a grin.

“I think we’re out,” you answered.

“Unacceptable,” Dean decided. “You start on the pancakes, I’ll make a run.”

“Wait! Um…” you wracked your brain for an excuse. “Um, the pancakes can wait, I’ll go with you.”

Dean squinted ever so slightly as he stared you down—that was twice in a week that you wanted to go with him to the store without a good reason.

“You sure you’re ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, just…I want some fresh air.”

“Alright.” You both knew he didn’t believe you, but neither of you brought it up again.

You felt pathetic as you trailed behind Dean, but the idea of sitting around the empty bunker alone until he got back or Sam woke up…

You just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own home, without Dean around.

You sat just a little closer to Dean than you normally would once you got into the Impala, sitting towards the middle of the seat even though the right side was empty. You felt Dean watching you from the corner of his eye, but to your relief he didn’t say anything.

…

“Ok, so how many pounds do we want?” You held a brand of bacon in each hand, eyeing them both. When Dean didn’t respond to your question, you turned around to find the cart there, but no Dean. “Dean?” You glanced up and down the aisle, but he wasn’t in sight. You threw both bacon packages into the cart and ran down the aisle, going down the row and looking frantically down every aisle you passed. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

You rubbed a hand against your chest when your next breath wouldn’t go through your tightened wind pipe. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one was less satisfying than the last. Once you reached the last aisle with still no Dean, you turned around and started back the way you came, hoping that he was down an aisle on the other side of the store.

“Dean? Dean!” You were calling his name, but you could barely even hear your winded and squeaky voice in the vast emptiness of the store, so you knew there was no way Dean could.

You passed the aisle with your cart and kept going, looking down the first, then the second…

“Dean!” You rushed forward, flinging yourself into Dean’s surprised embrace.

“Hey, what happened?” Dean was stiff and alert, whipping his head around to see what had spooked you.

“I couldn’t find you,” you whimpered, tightening your arms around Dean’s midsection. “I-I didn’t know where you went. Don’t do that to me!”

“Ok, ok hey I’m sorry,” Dean soothed, pulling away and kneeling down, brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you. “C’mon, what’s going on with you? What’s got you so spooked?”

You didn’t answer—you just launched yourself forwards and wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck, burrowing your head against his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” you pleaded.

“Ok, ok.” Dean held you closely, rubbing your back. “Ok I’m right here kiddo. Let’s get out of here, ok? Let’s go home.”

…

You held Dean’s hand in vice grip on the way out to the car, but he didn’t comment on it. He waited until you were safely bundled into the Impala to speak again.

“Kid, you need to tell me what’s going on here.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean glanced at you, but he didn’t speak again.

…

You were feeling lucky for most of the day—Sam and Dean spent the morning going through books in the library, so you were able to do your homework right next to Dean without warranting worry or attention.

“Check this out.” Sam’s words to Dean had you looking up curiously while Sam turned his computer around. “Looks like a case in town.”

Your heart dropped to your toes—you were too young to hunt, so a hunt in town meant that you sat in the bunker while the boys were out.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking about the case before they got ready to head out. Dean was throwing guns in a bag in his room when you went to find him.

“We’ll be back tonight,” Dean promised. “But if we find the thing that’s killing these people, it might not be until late, so don’t wait up ok?”

“Can’t I come?” Your tug on Dean’s sleeve stopped his movements.

“You know you can’t,” he said. “What’s going on with you? And don’t say nothing, because I know something’s wrong.”

“I just don’t want you to go,” you said. “Please De? Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked.

You shook your head.

“Then I have no choice.” Dean sighed. “People are dying, and you can’t come. I have to go.” Dean zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Dean—“ you reached out for your big brother, but in one stride he was out of your reach, then to the door, then he was gone.

…

You were trying to read the same page over and over, but the words were swimming around the page, blurred by the tears in your eyes and the shaking in your hands that had the pages fluttering. You looked up for the millionth time, a deep pit in your stomach convincing you each time that the yellow eyes demon would be standing in your doorway, waiting to kill you.

You dropped the book on your desk with a thud, finally giving up on homework—you wouldn’t get anything done until Dean was home, you just couldn’t focus.

You picked up your headphones and slipped them over your head, but you found that not being able to hear your surroundings made your anxiety even worse, and the soothing notes of your favorite song did nothing to help for once. You tried turning on the tv, but you found that you couldn’t look away from the door for more than a few seconds before you started to get scared again.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore—you closed your room door, your bathroom, and even your closet; open doors just had your imagination running away with images of yellow eyes coming to kill you.

You burrowed yourself under the covers and tried to force yourself to sleep. Hour after hour you convinced yourself that you’d just never be able to sleep, but you didn’t have anything else to do but keep trying, so you didn’t move.

You were still laying there when the door opened.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted. You smiled at him, and he smiled back for a second before the smile faded. “Me and Sammy have another case—we’re gonna be gone a while, ok?”

“No, wait!” You tried to get up to stop Dean, but you couldn’t move. “Dean, don’t go! Dean don’t leave!”

He was already out the door, and in his place stood Azazel, pale yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Dean!” You screamed, but it was too late; your pajamas were already soaked in blood coming from a painful gash across your stomach. You whimpered, finally able to move as you wrapped your arms around the wound as if you could protect yourself. You couldn’t.

You were sobbing as your body lifted off the ground, your stomach lurching as you went from wall to ceiling. There was no warning spark, or small flame—you were just suddenly and completely engulfed in flames, your hair burning and your skin scorched. You were still screaming when Dean came running back into the room.

“Dean,” you whimpered. “Dean no!”

Yellow eyes had a knife in his hand, and he turned it on your big brother in an instant. As the fire burned around you, you watched as Dean got stabbed again and again and again…

You woke up screaming. The fire was gone, and so was the pain, but you couldn’t even tell. Your eyes couldn’t take in a single detail of the room—they were blurry and unfocused from sleep. Your brain couldn’t decipher what parts of your dream were real and what weren’t. You sobbed out short and shaky breaths, and your cries were just starting to fade into whimpers when you heard it; the loud thunk of the bunker door closing.

Your fears and your crying returned full force, and you were gasping for breath as you felt around for any kind of weapon.

He’s coming he’s coming he’s coming he’s coming…

It was like all you could see was Azazel as you heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. You wanted to do what Dean always did—push his fear down, throw away his emotions, and just fight—but you couldn’t. You couldn’t catch your breath, you couldn’t stop sobbing, and you couldn’t find your gun.

When your door handle started to turn, you thought you were going to pass out. Your already-unsatisfying breath caught in your throat, and with the lack of breath came black spots at the edges of your vision.

You forced a single deep breath in and out—you couldn’t be unconscious when the demon came to kill you, you couldn’t be that helpless. You had to fight, even though you would lose.

The door swung open, and you were still gasping for breath and grappling for any kind of weapon when—

When Dean walked in.

“Dean!” You were off the bed and in your brother’s arms before he had a chance to speak.

“Hey, hey what’s going on?” Dean’s arms tightened around you when he heard you sobbing and felt you shaking. “Baby what happened?”

“Don’t leave me,” you begged between sobs. “Don’t leave me De, don’t leave me.”

“Ok, ok I’m not going anywhere,” Dean promised. “N/N I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?” Sam walked into the room, staring at his siblings with concern.

“I…I think we’re ok here,” Dean decided, carrying you to your bed. “You should go bandage that cut, I’ve got her.” When Sam hesitated, Dean assured him, “I’ve got her Sam.”

Sam finally left, and Dean climbed up on your bed, settling you into his lap when you wouldn’t let your vice grip around his neck go.

“I need you to talk to me,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know what’s going on, what this is.”

“There was fire,” you whimpered, your tears soaking Dean’s shirt. “There was fire, and it burned everywhere, and I was bleeding and I was on the ceiling, and-and yellow eyes stabbed you, and—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Dean started to rock you back and forth subconsciously. “Hey, how do you know about all that stuff.”

“I’m sorry.” You were sobbing again. “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I read his journal and he wrote down everything and I thought it would help but…but now I can’t stop dreaming about it. I’m so—I’m so scared, De. All the time.”

“Shh, shh you’re ok,” Dean soothed, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’m right here. Listen,” Dean tried to pull away so he could look at you, but you just tightened your grip. “Ok. I used to have nightmares about mom, too. All the time. I still get them sometimes.”

“You do?” You sniffled. “What do you do about them?”

“Well now it’s easier, because we killed yellow eyes. He’s gone, N/N. Nobody’s ever gonna die like mom did again, especially not you. You know that, right?”

“The dreams feel so real,” you answered.

“I know, I know they do. But they’re not. And I’m gonna help you through this, but kiddo, I can’t be around all the time, you know that. I’ve got a job to do.”

“O—ok,” you sniffled. “I can do better.”

“But I’m still gonna be here when you need me. I promise.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you right now.”

Dean’s arms squeezed impossibly tighter around you.

“Then I’m here for you.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #spn sam winchester #sam winchester spn #supernatural sam winchester #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester spn

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izzystizzys · 4 months ago

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“…I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I still don’t quite understand”, Fox says, for what must be the dozenth time that hour. His heartbeat pounds behind his eyes in an incessant drum of hurt, and his head aches with every breath like someone’s taken a rusty fork to the inside of his skull and raked his brain out. Fox’ eyes are beginning to burn the way they start doing around hour 80 of a shift, and he has to suppress the brief urge to check over his shoulder. Not even Stabby could come up with a ploy this contrived to make him sleep. Probably.

In front of him, General Grievous coughs awkwardly, long spindly durasteel limbs shivering with its force. “Certainly”, he vocalizes, in that deep, watery cadence. “For your glorious triumphs in battle, your awe-inspiring victory over me in close combat, and your undeniable warrior spirit, I accept you as my consort. I have proven my skills through the ritual capture, and thus, by Kaleesh custom, we are now wed, Commander Fox. I will honor you as my war-bride, and visit vengeance upon your enemies. I swear it to you.”

Expectantly, Grievous tilts his faceplate to the side, and Fox only just catches the suppression of the manic giggle that wants to escape him. Yeah, probably not Stabby - maybe a dying fever dream? Has the infected gash from that skirmish on the lower levels five rotations ago finally decided to end him? If so, it’s not fast enough for Fox’ tastes.

Here’s how it happened: Fox has no kriffing clue. All he knows is one moment an emergency alert tore him from precious Scream Closet time this morning, he went to rescue the Chancellor’s dumb ass again, and whoop, here he is on General Grievous’ ship with the war-criminal himself declaring them happily married. And eyeing him up and down like a piece of candy.

Why, Fox thinks, desperately, does this always have to happen to me?!

Chancellor’s still kidnapped, by the way. Fox has other priorities for the time being.

“I swear to aim my weapons in your service”, Grievous continues, when it becomes exceedingly clear Fox is not going to break out of his shocked stupor anytime soon. “I swear to aim true and strike with murderous intent, I swear to uphold the sacred bonds of our clans in the name of our union, I swear to raise a strong, bloodthirsty brood of warriors with-“

“Wait”, Fox interrupts, once his brain has caught up past the astromech dial-up sound it seems to be playing on repeat. “Uphold clan bonds? You murder your way through my brothers like a rabid nexu on spice on the regular!”

Grievous’ faceplate, which should be for all intents and purposes totally expressionless, does something that reminds Fox strangely of contrition. It has him gaping and shivering in discomfort, in any case. “A fact I regret, but acknowledge lies in my past before the fateful crossing of our paths. I am a warrior at soul, you must understand, my worthy mate.” Durasteel faceplates don’t turn soft. They don’t. And coughs don’t sound loving. They simply do not. “But I uphold the bonds of these sacred vows under Kaleesh law, that I swear to you, my beloved.”

“All I did was grapple you to the ground”, Fox says, mourningly. “Cody has kicked you in the head dozens of times and you’ve never tried to marry him.”

“He is not you, and his battle lacks the lustful vitality and love of violence of yours”, Grievous declares, and Fox really cannot tell whether the sound that erupts from him is a lovelorn sigh or a hacking death-gurgle. This cannot be his life.

Just then, a droid conveniently enters, putting a pause to all Fox’ sufferings. He’ll need to tell Thorn to research Kaleesh divorce proceedings. Or, better yet - he needs to blow up this whole karking ship including himself and destroy all evidence of this ever happening.

“Generals Kenobi and Skywalker awaiting in custody, Sir”, says the droid, nervously. “They are here to rescue Chancellor Palpatine, but we cut them off just out of the hangar bay.”

Internally, Fox rolls his eyes so hard it hurts his brain. “The Jedi can wait”, Grievous hacks out, and for once Fox agrees with him. Let the two dick around onboard, there’s bigger issues at hand.

“But Sir”, says the droid, all twitchy with an anxiety Fox eternally wonders who the kriff programmed into the damn things, “what if they try to escape and -“

A deep, growling noise erupts from deep within Grievous’ massive metal chest, amplifying Fox’ pounding headache by a thousandfold. “I have no time for this”, he snarls at the cowering droid. “Remove yourself from my and mine beloved’s sight.”

“Roger Roger”, the B2 squeaks, hesitantly, before adding on - “The Chancellor-“

Harrumphing petulantly, Grievous stomps one massive, clawed foot and makes what feels like the whole viewdeck shake. “I will twist his head off his body like a rotten fruit”, he declares. “That will get those pesky Jedi off my ship faster, and then we can continue saying our vows.” He pauses, thoughtfully, and then hooded eyes ringed by what must surely be rotten flesh fix on Fox inexorably. “It will be my wedding gift to you, beloved, an offering of peace to your brothers.”

Fox opens his mouth to protest, but quickly snaps it shut again when his husband already turns tail and storms off.

Huh. Maybe this marriage thing isn’t all bad.

#commander fox #general grievous #crackship and rarepair #sw tcw fic idea #i have been extremely stressed and it shows in the declining quality of brain rot #anyways that’s how grievous saves the galaxy and fox gets seven full hours of sleep #he comes back from his honeymoon to absolute mayhem #ori’vode nearly restart the war purely on behalf of fox’ virtue and their disapproval of his romantic choices #well ‘choices’#romantic accidents?#fox shrugs and goes eh might as well be a warlord’s trophy wife it’s not worse than the last gig #HOW screams wolffe still being held back by ponds and rex from committing violent murder LITERALLY HOW #count dooku is so confused by this turn of events that the rug is pulled from underneath him before he’s finished reckoning with ‘married #grievous’#please someone take away my posting rights the situation is dire #whats next dooku/fox fake dating

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moonstruckme · 10 months ago

Note

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

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 792 words

“I’m fine,” you croak.

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

You shrug. “Just other normal sick stuff.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I just…I don’t want to.”

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

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

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

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

You groan.

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

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

“Unless you want to try to sleep?”

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

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

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

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

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bellarkeselection · 11 months ago

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for cole walter, could you do one where reader replaces jackie (so her fam died and she moved in with the walter’s) and cole doesn’t really like her. one day she gets a cold, and cole takes care of her (begrudgingly) and realizes she isn’t so bad 🫶🏼🥹

Cole Walter Does Care

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun

I rolled over in my bed and felt a headache coming on the second I woke up which really sucked. Slowly sitting up I thought I would feel better that only seemed to make it worse. My nose was beginning to get stuffy and my throat felt dry. Footsteps came from the hallway and I heard whoever it was pause outside my door. “Hey Y/n, my mom is making breakfast. Woah you don’t look too good.”

“Thanks Alex - uh I didn’t know that.” I started coughing and then reached over needing to blow my nose into some tissues.

He entered my room with a sad expression. “I can get my mom to check you out if you want.”

“Please do.” I whimpered, sounding so helpless tugging the covers back over my chest.

He nodded, rushing out of the room and going downstairs to go get her. “On it, Y/n.” Once he was gone I yanked the coves over my head screaming and coughing into my blankets.

“Sounds like there’s a dying angry animal in here. Oh no sorry it’s just you Y/n.” I noticed the voice of Cole who when I peaked my head above the blanket saw that he was leaning in my doorway.

Grumbling under my breath I really wasn’t in the mood for his teasing. “Go away Cole. I’m not feeling good and you’ll just make it worse.”

“Ah now I’m offended since most people find my company to be quite enjoyable.” He walked into my bedroom sitting down on the side of my bed moving the cover down from my eyes so he could see some of my face.

“Well I d-don’t-“ I attempted to say but another coughing fit had to hit me right before his mother and Alex came back into my bedroom.

Catherine sat down and pushed Cole off the bed, putting a hand to my forehead. “Oh you're burning up. You'll just have to stay in bed today and miss the fair.”

“Okay Skylar and Tara won't be happy.” I responded in a tired breath.

She shakes her head eyeing her older son. “I'm sure they'll understand honey. Cole, I need you to stay and take care of her.”

“What the hell!” He raised his voice, accidentally cursing at his mother.

I sat upright on the pillows but had a coughing fit as a result. “No! He doesn't need to be here…”

“This is not up for discussion. Y/n you are really sick and Cole you will be staying home to take care of her. Because you're grounded after we found out you were sneaking girls out of the house. Come on, Alex.” She got to her feet and she left with Alex following her downstairs leaving us alone in my bedroom together.

Laying my head back down on the pillows I yanked the covers over my head screaming into it until Cole made a comment. “Don't think I'm happy about this either.”

“Oh sure. I'm sorry my illness prevented you from hooking up with Erin or Olivia or Paige!” I snapped at him.

His green eyes glared at me. “You don't have the right to judge my life.”

“Neither do you about me then!” I growled turning my back towards him.

Cole watched me for a little while hearing me doze off for a few hours of sleep. He sure found you annoying at times but there was something about you that he liked. It was the fact that you fought with him over the most ridiculous stuff. Most girls just fell at his beck and call except you. He walked around the room noticing a notebook laying on the desk. “Y/n's diary…hmm. I can't deny that I may have feelings for Cole even though he drives me nuts.” He debated reading it but when he flipped to one of the middle he heard you groan waking up.

“Cole, I'm gonna puke.” I moaned, struggling to get out from under the blankets.

He dropped the book rushing over to me, he put one arm underneath my shoulder and the other under the back of my knees carrying me through the door and across to the bathroom on this floor. “I've got ya…I've got ya.” He reassured me when I collapsed onto my knees puking in the toilet.

I felt one of his hands holding my hair back and the other was rubbing my back till I was finished. “Thanks Cole…”

“You’re welcome. See I'm not a total asshole.” He responded sitting across from me on the floor. His honey blonde hair was tossed and in his eyes like always.

Hugging my knees to my chest, my hair was a wreck and my nose was red. I looked like a complete mess and I didn't care for it one bit. His green eyes remained on me before I asked him not to handle the silence well. “If you wanna say something to me just go on and get it out, Walter.”

“I read part of your diary after you fell asleep. I know how you feel about me and honestly I'm shocked given how I've treated you.” He shrugged his shoulders like it was just a casual thing to say to someone.

I raised my voice in frustration grabbing a tissue when I had to sneeze two or three times. “You read my diary! Cole, you have no right to that. How much did you read - god I want to crawl in a hole now I'm so embarrassed.” Covering my face that was red as a tomato avoiding his gaze.

“Aren't you going to ask me how I felt about it?” Cole questioned with a curious look on his face.

Knitting my brows at the former star football player. “You’re telling me you have a crush on me. Yeah right. I'll believe it in another universe.”

“Do you believe me when I do this?” He shifted onto his knees coming closer to me.

Lifting my head up he cut my question off. “What are you doing-” His lips landed right on mine. Cole scooted closer and placed his hands on either side of my face. I wanted to push him away because I was sick and two because he shouldn't even couldn’t really be kissing me now.

Trailing my hands up his chest my arms wrapped around his neck and he moaned into the kiss after we had gotten closer. Cole tugged me up to sit down on his lap wrapping his arms around my waist holding me close to his chest as possible. “Cole, stop - Cole stop. We can’t be doing this.” Pushing my hands on his chest he drew back confused.

“Because you're sick. I don't care about that. I just needed you to know that I actually care about you, Y/n.” He declared still cupping my face on his hands green eyes so focused on me.

Moving one hand through his honey hair, my other drops to his shoulder blade. “I can't believe it, Cole Walter has a crush on me. Here I was thinking you hated me.” I chuckled with a half grin.

“Why did you think I only picked on you when you first got here. I figured you had a thing for bad guys in you somewhere. Just had to bring it out of ya, darling.” Cole tucked hair behind my ear before he could hear a lot of footsteps heading up the wooden stairs outside the shut bathroom door.

“What do we - uh do!” I sneezed where Cole gave me a tissue and I wiped my nose watching him get to his feet.

He scooped me up bridal style once more where I wrapped my arms around his neck enjoying the feeling of being in his arms like this. “Don't worry, we'll go to my room. They all know better than to go in there…now where we're we?” He carried me quickly out and into his room, closing and locking the door.

“Cole, I'm nowhere near ready for that kind of thing. Sorry if that disappoints you.” I apologize for crawling under the covers on his bed, blushing a deep shade of red.

He kicked off his shoes and got in beside me, gently pushing my head down in the crock of his neck so I would fall asleep. “I don't care about sleeping with you yet. I just wanted to see you blush.”

“Cole!” I punched his chest hearing him laugh and it was music to me considering he rarely ever laughs.

He kissed the crown of my head and watched my eyes begin to close shut. “I'm just playing with ya, Y/n. Now get some rest.” I closed my eyes and looped my hand with his freehand that wasn't playing with hair to make me dose off in his arms.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#cole walter x reader #cole x reader #cole walter #noah lalonde #mlwtwb #my life with the walter boys #horse ranch #sick reader #taking care of sick person #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated #requests are open #alex walter #netflix #jackie howard

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bucks-babe · 7 months ago

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maybe angel!reader helping bucky thru a panic attack? like he thinks when he dies hes gonna suffer in hell for the stuff the winter soldier did and we calm him down and help him? u can add smut if u want but u dont have to !!

My Guardian, My Angel, My Love

Pairing: Bucky x angel!reader

Summary: For the first time Bucky gets to experience peace because of his sweet angel.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angst?, actually a lot of angst, I don’t know how it got that way but it did, it gets happy though, fluff, smut (I can’t help myself), oral f!receiving, handjob, awkward sex talk, like really awkward, talk about heaven and dying, talk about life after death and immortality, angels based off of Supernatural but I changed a few things, blood, nearly dying, gunshots, reader doesn’t have a soul but can still love because I said so, reader knows when and how everyone dies but can’t tell them, reader has wings, 3rd person, age gap (reader is eons old), wings being a metaphor for sexual assault?, think Maleficent, no use of Y/N, so many emotions

A/N: This is not supposed to force any religion nor be an accurate representation of any religion. I din't go with panic attack, rather I had him almost die. I was feeling angsty

The moment Bucky’s knees hit the ground he knows it's over, that this is the end. He knew this was the way he would go out, on a mission, desperately trying to atone all his misdeeds. Tendrils of pain shot throughout his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. When his side hit the ground, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he went, limbs feeling too heavy. He couldn’t hear Steve screaming for help, scrambling for anything to stop the bleeding.

What Bucky did hear though, was a ruffle, almost like a flock of birds flying by, then a figure he’d never seen before stood above him. She’s here to take me. It didn’t strike Bucky as odd that she was the only thing that was clear, the rest of his view blurry and unfocused. He tried to speak, he really did, but no words came out, the breath leaving his lungs not enough to push any words out.

The woman crouches down, hand cupping his cheek with such softness tears leave his eyes, wiped away by Steve in the quinjet who seemingly can’t see her. “Close your eyes, my love. When you wake up, I’ll be there.” Fuck, this is really happening. Fear coursed through his body, scared of what punishment his sins earned him. I deserve to go to hell for what I’ve done.

A guttural whine passes his lips; Steve chokes back sobs next to his lifelong friend. “Shh, none of that, now. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise. You can rest now.” All at once, the pain is gone. Bucky feels like he’s floating - it’s wonderful.

Bucky has no problem opening his eyes. What the fuck? This is hell? Well damn. The most wonderful sound meets his ears - a giggle, soft and delicate. “No, my love, this is not hell and you’re not dead.” She comes into view. She’s gorgeous. Wait, I’m alive! Apparently, Bucky says that last part because Steve’s gasp enters his ears.

“Yeah, Buck, you’re alive. Gave us a scare though, didn’t uh, didn’t know if you would make it.” Bucky doesn’t respond right away, too busy looking around for his mystery woman, only to be met with the walls of the med bay. “Hey, I’m right here, Buck, look at me.” It’s not the woman, rather it’s Steve.

“How long was I out? What happened?”

“A few days. It was touch and go for some time but you bounced back. When we were on the mission, Hydra had a sniper posted outside. He got you right in the stomach.” Bucky could hear the emotion in Steve’s voice, the fear of losing his best friend still leaving him shaken up.

“Well, they’re a pretty shitty shot if you ask me. Could have gotten one right between the eyes with one of those shit guns we got in the war.” Steve coughs out a laugh, turning into a belly laugh a few seconds later. Bucky would laugh with him, but the bullet wound in his abdomen says he shouldn’t. He still doesn’t see the woman, though. Maybe I just made her up.

A few days later, doctor Cho gives him the all clear to leave the med bay; however, he’s off duty for the foreseeable future and not any amount of his grumbling changed her mind. Still, Bucky hasn’t seen the woman. He feels a little crazy that he misses her, well crazier.

Slowly, he makes his way to his room. Steve offered to help but Bucky wanted to do this on his own, having been tended to his whole stay in hospital. He puts in his password on the keypad Tony installed when Bucky first arrived, when the fear that Hydra would come back and take him was too much to bear. His room is the same way he left it, except for a woman on his bed. Not just any woman though, it was his mystery lady.

Someone’s gonna have to put me in the cuckoo's nest. She laughs as if she can hear his thoughts. God, I hope not. “God has bigger things to worry about than such an inconspicuous fear as that, my love.” She sits up, facing him, the most beautiful smile gracing her lips.

“Can you hear my thoughts?” He feels like he already knows the answer, but asks anyway. If this woman is made up, of course she can read his mind. She just smiles and rises to her feet, walking over to him.

“What do you think, my love?” She tilts her head, a soft smile still resides on her lips. He feels so safe with her and she isn’t even real, just a figment of his imagination, a ruse to comfort himself in what he thought were his last moments. “I am very real, I’ll have you know.”

Bucky doesn’t know why, but he believes her. He believes this woman who showed up randomly on a field, who his best friend couldn’t see, and who disappeared without a trace. “How then? How did you do it?”

“Do what, my love?” She grabs his hand and leads him to the bed, helping him sit, finding a spot next to him.

“Save me, hear my thoughts, hide from Steve, disappear, get into my room, all of it. It’s not natural. Either you’re a ghost, or a mutant, or a reaper who was trying to take me. I don’t know, but you’re something.” Another laugh escapes her. He should be terrified of her, but he can’t find it in himself to be, her presence emanating calm.

“Well aren’t you a clever one? However, I’m none of those things nor did I save you. It just wasn’t your time yet. I’m an angel, though, to answer your question.” Bucky just stares, not believing her. This has to be a joke. “No joke, my love. If you want, I can prove it to you.” Bucky doesn’t even question why she calls him my love, the sound of it just too nice to stop.

Bucky just nods, words failing him. She rises to her feet, turning to stand in front of him. He hears them before he sees them, the same ruffle he heard as he lay dying. Then he sees them. A pair of dark wings coming from her back. She doesn’t spread them all the way, too big to fit in the small space of his room. “They’re black.” She throws her head back, a loud, beautiful laugh fills his ears.

“That was your first thought? You don’t like them? Personally I think they’re quite nice.” It was the first thing that came to his mind, the rest blank. Maybe he should have asked for more proof, but he knows she would never lie to him. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does.

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought they’d be white. With the whole angel thing, you know?” She hums.

“There is a lot humans have wrong about us. I mean, plenty of us have white wings, but they come in many colors. If you can believe it, this isn’t even my true form.” Bucky is confused, she looks so real. A tangible human, someone he can touch.

“What is your true form then? Can I see it?” That’s a little personal to ask, dumbass.

“Well, that is a little complicated. Only one human has seen my true form and it didn’t go well. I thought she could handle it, but when she saw me, well let’s just say she couldn’t see from then on.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “Anything else you want to ask me?”

Her wings are still out, folded against her back. They look so soft. “Can I touch your wings?” Her wings shift slightly. If he wasn’t trained to observe everything and everyone, Bucky wouldn’t have known that she was uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know-”

“That’s okay. An angel’s wings are very personal. They’re sensitive and even for an ethereal being, it's very personal - intimate.”Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. “I know your name, my love. Might I say, it’s very pretty, but you don’t know mine.” Bucky picks up on her attempt to move his attention away from her wings.

“What is it then? I can’t call you angel forever, however fitting it may be.”

“Well I don’t exactly have a name. I’m a cherubim. The only angels who have names are the archangels, the first borns.”

It was Bucky’s turn to smile.”My little cherub.” She doesn’t tell him that cherub is the plural of cherubim. Until this day, Bucky didn’t know that angels could get shy, yet here his sweet cherub is, shying away from his piercing eyes. He bets if he felt her face he would feel the heat on them. “I have to ask though, my little cherub, why did you come to me?”

She became serious, staring right into his eyes. “Because God commanded it.”

“What does God want to do with me? Out of all the people in this world, he chose me?” A pained look crossed her face and she walked over to him, kneeling in front of him like he was her God. Her hands ran up his arms, goosebumps rising at the pass of her hands. He almost stopped breathing - he could feel her hand on his left arm. He hasn’t felt anything with that hand since he fell of that train.

Hands still rising, she cups his face with both hands, making him look into her eyes. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” It wasn’t a question. She knew. “That is why he sent me. He sent me because you deserve it. You deserve to let go.” At that moment, Bucky broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably, somehow without pain in his fresh wound.

She pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around him. His face buried in her neck, arms clutching her back. She hesitates for a second, no one having touched her wings in thousands of years, yet she cocoons him with them, shielding him from the world. It only makes Bucky cry harder, her wings holding every bit of softness he thought they would. The comfort she brings unlike any other he experienced before.

Her arms rub his back as she coos to him. Soft words spoken into his hair. “Shh, my love, I’m here. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. I will die before I let that happen.” The conviction in her tone sets him off more, unable to comprehend someone would do that for him without a second thought. A being, older than he can even fathom, is ready to give it all away for a mesley human. A speck of dust in her life. His entire existence no longer than a second when compared to hers.

That’s how it was for a while, Bucky’s sweet cherub staying with him. At night she would wrap her wings around him, keeping him safe. Bucky knows that her powers are the reason his nightmares are gone. At first he was glad that he could finally sleep, but then the guilt crept in. Why should he be allowed to forget the horrors he committed? Their families didn’t get that condolence.

When he told her this she wasn’t having any of it, wings jerking in annoyance. It was something that he picked up on, how when she experienced emotions her wings would move in different ways, always giving her away.

“I swear, my love, you’re going to make my wings turn gray with all this. I have lived a long life, longer than you can comprehend, so when I tell you that I have seen the best and the worst of this world, I mean it. And you, my love, are a good man. There is a reason God sent me to you.” Her wings surrounded him and he felt himself relax. “There is no quest to send you on, no mission that the world hangs in the balance of. It’s just you. A man who needs to see the good in himself.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, not meeting her eyes.

“You think your purpose is suffering for the things you couldn’t control? My purpose is to save you. My love,” she cups his face in her hands, wiping away the tears he didn’t know had formed, “I have done far worse things in my life. Horrific things, yet I’m here right now, with you. Please, let me take your pain away.”

None of this was easy for Bucky. No one has ever had their sole purpose be him. Back in the forties he took care of Steve, he stepped up when his father left. When he was no longer the Winter Soldier, Steve helped him, but Steve’s care never felt like this. Bucky knows that he’s fallen in love with her. He knows that she knows, but what he doesn’t know is if she feels the same.

What he doesn’t know is that she is fighting the same battle, the feeling of love is one she has never had before. It all came to a head one night, Bucky wrapped in her wings, her head on his chest. “Cherub?” She felt the vibrations in his chest.

“Yes, my love.”

“You said that we could be together for the rest of my life, right?” She did say that when he was worried that she would leave him after her mission was complete.

“I did.” One thing about her is that she never gave long answers to questions, not used to having to talk with humans.

“What happens when I die? Where will I go? I want you to be there with me.”

She sighed, thinking about how to convey her words properly. “When you die… you’ll go to heaven. It has already been decided. If you choose, when you go, I will be there with you for the rest of our existence, but you don’t have to make a decision now. My body will age with yours, follow you to the end of your life. When your time comes, we will leave and go to heaven where we will both be young again.”

Without hesitation Bucky answers, “I want that. I want you to be with me for the rest of eternity.” There was no doubt in his mind. Even though he met her a few months ago, he knew. “I have to ask, what is heaven like?”

She sits up a bit, shifting to lay on his chest, wings still cocooning them, keeping them in their own little bubble. “There is no one heaven. Not everyone who ever went there is in the same place. Heaven is made up of small pockets of personal heavens. People who lost their loved ones meet again, your happiest memories are relived, there is no pain or sorrow, you can have anything you want.”

Bucky felt the pull of his chest, emotion bubbling up. “Is my ma there? And Becca?” The words come out thick, a lump forms in Bucky’s throat. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

She looks into his eyes. “Yes, they are. They’re together and they’re waiting for you. I have seen them myself, right before I left to meet you. They talk very highly of you, my love.”

Tears fall from his face, the pain in his chest all the time at the greatest loss of his life eased slightly. “Can I talk to them?” He knows it's a long shot, but if there is a chance he wants it.

“I’m so sorry, my love, but I can’t. Even I don’t have the power to do that. If I could, I would.” A pained whine leaves his lips. “Hey, you know who is waiting for you too?” She waits a beat before speaking anyway. “Your dog from when you were a kid. He’s in his prime, always will be. His days are spent chasing rabbits around the yard.”

“Balto’s up there too?” A small smile graced his face, crows feet appearing by his eyes.

“Yeah. If it is any consolation, time passes differently up there. The longing you feel right now for them, they feel the same only it’s made easier by us.” Bucky only nods, staring into her eyes, seeing nothing but truth. His eyes flicker to her lips and back up. “You can, my love, I want you to.”

That was all Bucky needed to hear. Gently cupping her cheek, he guided her lips to his. There was no rush, no sense of urgency. They had all the time in the world and then some. Bucky never felt anything this good in his life and he was only kissing her. When she licked his lips, he opened mouth without a thought, brain clouded with love just for her.

He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of her tongue on his incredible. At his sound, Bucky felt her wings flutter under him. Breaking the kiss, he giggled. Bucky actually giggled. She reared her head back, slightly affronted by his laugh when she just kissed him.

“I’m sorry, my little cherub, it’s just that your wings tickled me.” She huffs and a second later, her wings are gone the only sign they were ever out is the small black feather on the bed. “No, cherub, don’t put them away. I love them.” She wasn’t really offended, but she wanted to tease him a bit.

Her wings were always out around Bucky, comfortable enough to reveal the most intimate and personal part of herself to him. He was the first human in thousands of years to touch them, but he was the only one to be wrapped in them. The only time they were touched was when a man cut them off her back. It was a time when she trusted humans, not knowing the atrocities they were capable of.

Her wings were white then, when she was pure and unknowing of the hate humans possessed. God crafted her a new pair. Of course she accepted them, but her feathers turned black, scared she looked to her father. When he said that it was because of the wrongs his creations did, it broke something in her, took away her purity, teaching her a lesson. Father never blamed her for it, he knew she would heal with time. It was part of the reason he sent her to the man she lays in bed with.

Bucky didn’t know this, he didn’t know how much she was betrayed by humans, only for her to trust him and him alone. She playfully glares at him before bringing her wings back out, sitting up on his lap. Gently, more gentle than he has been in years, Bucky reaches out to touch them. She lets him feel them whenever he wants, even wrapping him in them as he sleeps, but this was a completely different setting.

She was so vulnerable at this moment. Her wings flapped, a nervous tick of her’s, making Bucky pull away immediately. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She swallows before meeting his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to touch them. It’s just that only one other human has touched them. There was a time where I was naive and innocent, not knowing what humans were capable of.” She pauses and Bucky sits up, back against the headboard and laces his fingers with hers, feeling the softness on his metal hand.

“It was a man, he had a family, a kid and a wife. They struggled to survive, trading their valuables for a slice of bread. Father sent me to help them, take away their sorrows. Said he was an honest man trying to make an honest living.” Bucky senses where her story is going, hoping that it doesn’t end the way he fears, but the pain in her eyes is palpable, a human emotion angels almost never experience.

He waits for her to continue, not forcing her to speak. “At first, they were grateful, having everything they needed. They had their health, food on the table, but the man grew greedy. He wanted more. One day, as I was watching his child in a field, keeping her safe from the horrors of the world, he snuck behind me with a sword he got from a blacksmith, sharper than any blade. He-he cut my wings right off my back.”

Tears fell from her eyes, not having relived that moment for thousands of years. Bucky felt his heart physically ache. She was sent to heal him, but it was his turn to do the same. “You know, my wings used to be white?” She looks into his eyes, red with tears. “When he hurt me, Father took me back to heaven, crafting me another pair. They were white but when he gave them to me, they turned black.”

A whine leaves her lips and Bucky pulls her into him, careful not to touch her wings. “Oh, my sweet little cherub, I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I’ve never felt as content as I have with you, never so happy and I will do anything to keep you safe. I love you, no matter what you have done, I’ll still love you.” This only made her cry harder. Human emotions were foreign to her, but spending so much time with Bucky caused her to develop them. It was almost overwhelming, going from not having anything to having so much fill her body.

“Father said that it was because the man took my innocence, showed me the evil of the world. I’ve never seen him apologize for anything, yet that day he was broken, realizing that his creations, even the ones he thought were good, are capable of unspeakable atrocities. They will never turn white again because I’m ruined.” Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes. His sweet cherub thinking she is anything less than perfect breaks his heart.

“My cherub, you saved me, now let me do the same for you. Let me heal you like you have me.” Leaning back slightly, she took his hands in her own, drawing them up her waist to her back, moving them to touch her wings. At his touch, she gasped, eyes closing forcing more tears to cascade down her face. The feeling of his gentle hands, hands that have done so much harm, resting on the most violated part of her body was something she never thought would happen.

She didn’t know she could love until she met Bucky, finally placing a word to the indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her body every time she thinks of him. “I love you too, my love. Forever and ever, til you die, til the end of time, in heaven and on earth.” They were both crying, neither experiencing the tenderness of love before.

He brings her down, kissing her with as much passion as he possibly could, tasting the mixture of both of their tears. Her arms clutching onto him, trying to get closer. He did the same, one hand running across her wings like he was trying to wash away the taint of betrayal his kind caused.

Shifting on his lap, she feels the bulge of his cock, half hard pressed up against her. Gasping, she pulls away. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it just-.” She silences him with her lips, drawing a groan from him, subconsciously grinding down onto him. “Cherub, we have to stop, I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re vulnerable right now, I can’t do that to you.”

Her hips stutter on his. “My love, I want to, I need to. Need to be closer to you, please grant me this.” His hands run up and down her sides, soothing the heat of her skin.

“Any time you want to stop, or don’t like something, you tell me. Okay? This is about me showing you how perfect you are.” She nods, kissing him one more time. Bucky’s hands slide up her shirt, resting on her soft skin, palms feeling the goosebump under his touch. Looking up at her for permission to take her shirt off, she nods.

Bucky did that with every piece of clothing, every move he made. Soon they were both naked, her wings splayed out on the bed, twitching in a way he never saw before - arousal. “My, my love, I have to tell you something.” He pulls his eyes away from her wings to look into her eyes. “I’ve never done this before. Angels, we don’t do this, I don’t know what to feel right now.”

Hands cupping her cheeks, he smiles at her, relaxing into his touch. “Do you feel safe?” She nods. “Do you feel like you have to do this for me?” She shakes her head. “Do you want me to please you?” She nods once again. “We don’t have to do anything with this,” he gestures to his throbbing erection.

“I want to, I just need you to show me what to do.” The thought that she trusts him enough to take care of her makes his cock pulse, aching for some type of relief.

“Let me make you feel good, okay? All you have to do is lay back and tell me how it feels.” She nods her head in understanding, worries slowly fading away. He kisses down her body, taking the time to swirl his tongue around his sensitive nipples, grinning at the small gasp it draws from his cherubs lips.

Going further down, his face is right in front of her pussy, smelling her intoxicating scent. “Keep your eyes on me, cherub.” She gulps. For a minute, Bucky just stares at her pussy, breathing her in, memorizing how wet she is before his tongue flicks out onto her clit.

“Oh, that feels good. Can you do it again?” She was so sweet, asking so kindly for him to deliver her pleasure.

“Of course I can.” And with that, Bucky dives into her pussy, restraining himself from devouring her. He groans into her cunt, already addicted to her taste, the moans she lets out are soft and breathy, yet it’s one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard, only competition being her laugh.

“My love, I don’t, what is happening to me?” Bucky pulls away from her cunt, reaching up to lace their hands together.

“Just let that feeling wash over you. It’s okay, I’ll catch you when you fall, I’m here.” He goes right back to her pussy, lapping her juices up, eyes boring into hers. She was twitching on the bed, hips bucking up to meet his tongue. Bucky chuckles when he sees her wings flap, not knowing what to do with the pleasure coursing through her.

Her orgasm comes as a surprise to her, never experiencing one before, nor knowing what they were. Her eyes shoot open, wings beating wildly, body almost convulsing on the soft sheets. Bucky pulls away, not trying to overstimulate her. He almost cums at the sight of her, it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

It takes her a while, but she comes down, wings falling limp on the bed as Bucky crawls up her body, resting in between her legs. “My love, what was that? I thought I was about to die.”

Barking out a laugh, Bucky leans down. “That was an orgasm, sweet cherub. How did it feel?” She whines, not able to put what she felt into words.

“Like nothing I have ever felt before. It was incredible.” Her eyes close. Bucky is perfectly happy to hold her, not caring about his own orgasm, but her eyes shoot open, wide and curious. “Can you have one, too?”

Another laugh leaves him. “Yes, cherub, I can. It’s a little different from yours though.” Her eyes squint in confusion, clearly not understanding what could be different. “Well, for one, what I have looks a little different to yours, doesn’t it?” She nods. Bucky never thought he would be giving “The Talk” to an angel, but here he was. “When I have an orgasm, stuff comes out of this tip, right here.” He grabs his cock to show her.

“Can I see it? How do I make you do that?” It was Bucky’s turn to be surprised.

“Cherub, you don’t have to do that.” Her glare is enough to make Bucky continue. “Um, there are a few different ways. I could put it inside of you, that feels good for you too.”

“In where?” Bucky huffs, not in annoyance, but this talk is turning him off. Not that he’s mad at that, but the conversation feels like talking to a child, someone who hasn’t experienced anything sexual and it wasn’t exactly turning him on, it felt wrong to have this talk naked.

“In this hole right under where I was touching you. There is another one under that, but it’s different from the other. Or your mouth, but also a hand. Pretty much anything that could rub against that area.” Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. His cock was going soft right in front of her eyes.

“Can I do one? I want to see you orgasm.” Her eyes were so bright and eager, he couldn’t say no to his cherub. He nods, only for her to glance down at his soft cock. “Why is it smaller now? I think it’s kind of cute.”

This has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. No woman has ever called his dick cute, or made a comment on its size when soft. He gets compliments on how big he is when he’s hard, but soft is a different story. He’s a grower not a shower. He has to admit, his encounter is damaging his ego a bit. “It gets bigger when I’m aroused, but if it’s not touched it gets softer.” He’s lying straight through his teeth, he can stay hard for hours without touching his dick.

“If you touch it, it gets big again.” She switches positions, having him on his back, resting between his legs, face right next to his cock. He feels himself twitch and she jerks her head in surprise, giggling at her own reaction. She begins to almost pet him, it feels good but not what he needs.

He reaches down, guiding her hand to gather the precum at his tip, slowly pulling it back down, tightening her grip on his dick. “Oh, wow, it’s getting bigger. It’s so hard.” Her amazement at something so simple as a dick getting hard is endearing.

Bucky grunts when he twists her hand. “I liked that sound.” Her words make him groan again, cock all the way hard. His hips buck into her hand and he lets her hand go, trusting her to keep her pace. It’s slow but firm, driving him insane. He wants her to go faster, harder, but this is about her, letting her discover at her own pace.

“Spit on the tip, it’ll make it easier to move.” She does so without hesitation. Bucky’s head flies back into the headboard, moaning at her soft hands working his cock. “Just like that, cherub, you’re doing so good. This feels incredible.” Bucky meant every word of it. Her hand honestly felt better than the full blown sex he’s had in the past. Maybe it was because he loved her with all his heart, or maybe it was because she was an angel, either way, Bucky didn’t have it in himself to care.

“You look so pretty like this, my love. I love this, making you feel good.” Bucky’s hips pick up speed, feeling his orgasm building up in the base of his cock.

“Cherub, I’m going to cum. Please keep going just like that.” She figures he means orgasm since he is jerking just like she was. The urge to make him orgasm was almost too much to bear, wanting him to show her how beautiful he was when he lets go. “Oh, cherub, I’m about to, oh fuck.” He moans long and loud, cum spurting out of his tip. She gasps at the force of it but doesn’t let up her pace. She had never seen anything more beautiful than her love in this moment.

He has to stop her, not knowing that he needed a break. “Love, I want to make you do that again.” She scoops some of his cum off his stomach with her finger and just stares at it.

“You can taste it if you’d like.” She eagerly licks her fingers, eyes bulging at his taste, dropping down to lick the rest of it off his body. “Come here, cherub.” He pulls her into a kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. He pulls the cover over their bodies, her wings instinctively wrapping around him.

“Thank you, my love, for always taking care of me. I was sent to save you, yet I feel that it’s the other way around.” Bucky doesn’t think so. He knows that she saved him. They fall asleep together and in the morning they will find that her wings are just a bit lighter than the night before.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes au

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xoxoxkisses · 4 months ago

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Hanahaki

Muichiro x Reader Desc: the reader has hanahaki disease after experiencing one-sided love with the mist hashira. She decides to keep it a secret to not hurt her loved ones, except it hurts even worse in the end. Warnings: not proofread, angst ———————————————————————————————————— He didn’t like you back and it was slowly killing you on the inside, literally. You were diagnosed with Hanahaki Disease and it was killing you. Why can’t you just like me? You quit the corps when you found out the news. Your condition got worse day after day and it caused you to become weaker very fast. You wanted to keep it a secret, the fact you were dying. You didn’t need or want anyone’s pity. *Cough Cough*

You looked in your hands and counted three small white petals along with drops of blood. Your throat and chest burned with pain, but you were used to it. You took the petals in your hands and walked outside to the nearby stream. You liked to dump the petals into that stream because you found it calming to see them float away. ———————————————————————————————————— Your condition got worse. The petals became fully bloomed flowers. You coughed them up more frequently now, sometimes even throwing them up. Even though it hurts, it’s all for you

You had to run some errands so you went to the market. As you were picking up some fruit, you felt a familiar presence beside you. You looked over and saw Muichiro standing beside you, looking at you. “Oh, hey Muichiro.” He noticed how your voice sounded scratchy, and how pale you looked. You just looked..sick. “Hello Y/n.” He still looked as handsome as ever to you, maybe even better. You bowed to him. “It was nice to see you, but I must be going.” You paid for your fruit and began walking off. “Wait Y/n, can we talk?” You stopped and turned to him, and you shyly looked away and nodded your head. You both went to your estate. “So, what did you want to talk about?” He sighed and his usual blank stare turned into worry. “Y/n, we all know you’re sick. I just want to know what’s wrong with you.” You fiddled with your hands. “I-I don’t want to say..I kept it a secret to not worry you all.” “Y/n, your plan isn’t working you know?” You hesitated to answer him. You sighed and gave in. “I have Hanahaki Disease. I’m suffering for loving someone who doesn’t love me.” His eyes went wide. As soon as he was going to say something, you started coughing and out came multiple flowers. Muichiro recognized those flowers. They weren’t in bloom, yet he saw them in the stream a lot. As he looked back up to you, he noticed the blood coming from your mouth. “Y/n, you’re bleeding.” He took his sleeve and wiped it away. “Thanks. Since I cough so violently, it causes my throat to bleed.” Then you remembered the flowers. “Hey, can you help me dump these in the stream?” So it was you who they were coming from. “Yeah, of course.” The two of you picked up the flowers and went to the stream and dumped them. You watched as they floated away and a calm sense of serenity came over you. As you two were walking back, you broke the silence. “I don’t have much time left, maybe a month.” He looked at you with wide eyes. “What?!” You looked up and smiled at the clouds. “Just promise me you won’t tell the others.” He looked at you and nodded. ———————————————————————————————————— He came over almost everyday to check up on you. Your condition had reached its final stage. The flower roots were growing in your body. Since you could no longer move, Muichiro dumped your flowers into the stream. You were in pain, a lot of pain. It hurt to breathe, some points you couldn’t breathe. You were grateful he was there for you. Unfortunately, you knew your time was up. He hadn’t came over for a couple days since he was on a mission, but you wanted him at your side. You felt a pain in your lungs, and that’s when you realized the roots had pierced them. You couldn’t breathe anymore, and you accepted your fate, that you were about to die. Muichiro came back as soon as he was back from his mission. When he walked in, he sensed something was wrong. He rushed over to where you were, and when he got there he noticed you were gone. Flowers sprouted out of your skin, your body now covered in them. “No..this can’t be true.” He ran over to your side and realized you were long gone. He picked you up and held you to his chest. He cried, he hadn’t cried in months, he grew to really care about you. ———————————————————————————————————— Your funeral was beautiful. Everyone was there for you. They all felt guilty for not knowing what was wrong with you, but realized there was nothing they could do. They found out you had refused treatments and you were fine with passing. Except for him. He missed you dearly, he hadn’t realized it, but he loved you, but it was too late.

#viralpost #demon slayer #kny muichiro #muichiro tokito #kny x reader #demon slayer muichiro #demon slayer x reader #muichiro x reader #tokitō muichirō #kny angst #demon slayer angst

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the-lives-i-am-not-living · 1 month ago

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Good night

Wolverine x reader

Summary: you’re sick. What's especially bad this time is that your throat is filled with mucus (lovely), which makes sleeping a nightmare. Feeling especially bad one night, there's only one person you want to go to.

Warnings: none - this is just pure fluff!

Note: hi y'all, this is my first time ever posting something here, so I hope you like it! Inspiration hit me today! (and the gasping actually happened to me recently ._.) Hope you enjoy!

You jolt up in the middle of the night, gasping for air. But the air doesn’t come. For a few seconds, you try and see if the tightness in your throat subsides on its own, but the only thing you’re able to do is heave.

Panic sets in - you’re convinced you’re going to die if you don’t get help. You get out of bed and head into the hallway. One, two, three, four… When you get to the fifth door, you softly open it. Unable to speak, you pray that Logan is still a light sleeper.

You peer into the darkness of his room, suddenly unsure whether to approach him, but then you’re blinded when his bedside light turns on. Logan looks at you with narrowed eyes, adjusting to the brightness. His expression immediately grows concerned when he processes what’s happening.

Still gasping, you drop to your knees at his bedside, trying to get your breathing under control. Besides the obvious fear of dying, you mostly feel bad for waking him up.

Logan hurriedly slides out of bed and joins you on the floor. “Look at me, hun,” he says, and places a hand on your lower back. You move to sit sideways, facing Logan. When your panicked eyes meet his, you’re struck with the intensity of them. He has never looked at you like that before. The initial feeling of being scrutinized ebbs away and turns into something warmer.

“Keep breathing. You’ve got this. It doesn’t feel like you can breathe, but you’re doing it,” he says. His voice is surprisingly clear for someone who just woke up.

You give him a few small nods. The gasping doesn’t subside for another whole minute. All the while, the two of you are locked onto each other.

Then, finally, your heart starts beating less erratically, and your breathing becomes less labored.

You close your eyes and let out a shaky breath of relief. You lean your head against the bed. “I’m so sorry,” you say with a tiny voice.

You hear a strangled sound from Logan. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

When you open your eyes, his incredulous expression is front and center. “I thought I was choking. I didn’t want to scare you, but -" You pause to catch your breath. "But the only thing I could think of was to go to you.”

His features turn soft at those last few words. “I’m glad you came to me.”

“Thank you for helping," you croak. "Oh my god, I sound even more like a chain smoking little kid now.” Logan chuckles and gives you a pat on the knee. “Very welcome. And yes, you do.”

“I hate being sick.”

With an old man groan, he rises to his feet. “Stay put. I’ll get you a glass of water. And I’ll see if I can find some medicine for your throat.”

“Thank you,” you breathe.

When he gets back with a glass of water, you haven’t moved an inch.

“Sorry, couldn’t find any medicine,” he says while handing you your water. “But let’s get you looked at first thing in the morning.”

“I’m a bit scared to go back to sleep,” you admit. Logan watches you take a few sips of water. “Do you want to talk until you fall asleep?”

You look up at him, slightly surprised. When he doesn’t meet your eyes immediately, you can’t help but smile. “That would be nice.”

“Alright, let’s get you back to your room. I have some stories that are guaranteed to bore you out of your mind.” “I can’t wait!” you say in an excited whisper. “Having your voice lull me to sleep sounds like heaven.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you wish you could take them back.

“Oh, does it?” Logan’s voice drips with self-satisfaction. You don’t dare look at him.

Instead, you cough. But this sadly sets off a coughing fit, and by the end of it tears are streaming down your face.

“Goddammit,” you wheeze.

From the corner of your eye, you see Logan holding out his hand. “Good sir, I have respiratory issues,” you say as you swat at him. “I can still walk!”

“Okay, excuse me,” he says, holding up his hands in mock offense. “Good to see your near-death experience didn’t mess with your sense of humor.”

Once you’re settled back in your bed with extra pillows and blankets to help you sleep in a more upright position, Logan takes a chair and sits across from you. It takes you a while to shake the giddiness of having Logan in your room, telling you a bedtime story. Hearing him use a different kind of voice. But as expected, around ten minutes into his story, sleep takes you.

You don’t see Logan’s expression as he watches you drift off.

After a while, he quietly gets up from the chair and leans over towards you. As softly as he can, he strokes your hair.

“Good night.”

#wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x you #logan howlett x reader

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darkbluekies · 2 years ago

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The witty & uncanny pt 3 (finale)

Doctor!yandere OC x reader x mafia!yandere OC

Summary: Stuck with two yanderes, your life is now turned upside down. You're kept asleep and your body is breaking down. The yanderes have won.

Warnings: yandere duo, drugs/medicine, kidnapping, restraints, bruises, blood, "humiliation", “infantilization”, mentions of sexual intimacy, changing readers clothes when they're unconscious, throwing up, following reader to bathroom, washing reader, open ending, indication of reader dying(?), unhealthy behavior, toxicity, reader breaking(?), indication of Stockholm syndrome/giving in.

Word count: 5.8k

Part 2 the outtakes

You run the quickest you can, only hearing your own heartbeat in your own ears. You’ve never been this terrified in your entire life. The gun is still safely tucked away into the pocket of your black hoodie. Your legs are aching badly by now and soon enough, you have to stop to rest. Despite all the adrenaline you’re pumping in your veins, you’re still human. With a quick look around to make sure that you’re alone, you sink down with your back against a tree. You feel for the gun and sigh out, relieved that it's still there. You’re unsure if it is going to help you in this twisted situation, but you’re going to try your best. You can’t do more than that.

“Y/N!” Silas says.

You look around, seeing him stand a few meters away. In panic, you shoot up on your feet, but your legs refuse to move further. All you want is to run away, but the sight of him scares you to your core. But you know you have to flee before he wins again. He can’t win again, can’t get what he want. You pick up the gun in a shaking hand, hoping to see him scared … but all he does is smile. A nostalgic, almost fatherly smile.

“My favorite gun, I’ve missed it”, he says calmly and lifts his dark eyes to you. “But I’ve missed its new owner even more.”

“Leave me alone”, you warn him with make believe courage, “or else I’m going to shoot you.”

Silas lifts a black eyebrow. “Shoot me?”

“I shot the doctor.”

Silas smiles wider and takes a step forward. You force yourself to stand still with your head high. You can’t show how terrified you really are. He’s like a demon, he feeds of off your fear.

“I must be a bad influence on you, my little thing”, he snickers, putting his hand over his heart. “I never wanted you to take after me. It’s not safe for you. You’re my precious little darling, you shouldn’t run around with a gun. Give it to me and I will take you home safely.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You really think that? You don’t think I have taken measures to make sure that you’re leaving with me?”

You're about to turn around and run when someone comes up behind you locks their arm around your waist. With a surprised yelp, your back gets pressed into a taller man's build. You squirm around and manage to catch a glimpse of the blonde doctor’s face behind you. You freeze and look back at Silas who’s grinning ear to ear. Less than a second later, a sharp pain from a needle shoots through your neck.

"Sleep tight", Dr Kry whispers.

You wake up in the same room you escaped from weeks ago. The only difference? Both your wrists are secured to the railings of the metallic bed by what looks like belt buckles. You start to wiggle your hands in hope of them slipping out, but whoever’s tied you has made sure that you’re not going anywhere.

The room is foggy no matter how much you blink. You wish you could rub your eyes, but your hands won’t move.

You try to speak, but you break out in coughs. Your throat is drier than a desert.

“They’re awake”, Silas says.

“Good”, Dr Kry answers.

“They don’t sound too good.”

“Just a side effect from the drug. They need to drink some water.”

You gasp, seeing the doctor move towards you with a paper mug in his hands. The closer he comes, the more you fight against the restraints. If he put drugs in your neck that easily, who knows what he could have put in the water?

“Be careful”, Dr Kry whispers and sits down on a rolling stool next to your bed. He helps you sit up before placing the paper mug to your lips. “Drink a little.”

You shake your head frantically.

“It’s just water, Y/N”, Dr Kry reassures you and takes a sip himself. “See? Harmless.”

"I don't want anything from you."

You start to squirm against the restraints again. You start to move your legs and manage to kick the paper mug out of his hands. The water splashes over his legs and your blanket. Dr Kry sighs heavily and for a second you’re scared that he’s going to do something to you. You shouldn't have acted so impulsive. Instead, he stands up and wipes his blue overalls.

“Seems like you have everything in control”, Silas snorts.

“As if you could do this better”, Dr Kry says and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I know I can.”

Silas picks up the paper cup, walks into the bathroom and returns. You watch him carefully, studying his every step as you involuntarily shrink. You know very well what Silas is capable of and what he does when he’s denied anything.

Silas walks over to you, standing right beside your body. You force yourself to keep your eyes on the clock on the wall, to ignore his presence. Silas leans down to your ear.

“Either you drink this voluntarily or I’m forcing you to”, he whispers.

His hot breath fans your ear in an uncomfortable, animalistic manner. You shrink and swallow, nodding unnoticeably. Silas holds the cup to your lips gently and you open your mouth, letting the water in. Dr Kry watches in amazement how you swallow every single drop of the water. Silas smiles smugly and throws the paper cup in the trash.

“See, doc?” he purrs and puts his hand on your head, scratching your scalp. “I know how to control our little beast here.”

"Unbelievable", Dr Kry scoffs.

You finally turn your head away, being done with his embarrassment. You look down, noticing something.

"Where are my clothes?" you ask in horror.

Sometime during your involuntary nap, at least one of them changed you out of your black hoodie and jeans to a flimsy hospital gown.

"Your clothes are in the backseat of my car", Silas answers calmly. "Since you like to run around the town like a madman, I thought that if you want to do it again, you'll have to look like one as well."

Your mouth falls open "I-I want my clothes! You're striping me off of my individuality!"

"We're keeping you safe", Dr Kry says and grabs his keys. "Now, I'm going down to the cafeteria to get you something to eat. Any requests?"

"If you think I'm stupid enough to eat it-"

"I take that as a 'no', then."

With that said, Dr Kry leaves the room, locking the door behind him. Silas chuckles.

"That cheeky little bastard doesn't trust me", he says, eyes on the door. "He thinks I'm going to steal you away the very second I get you alone."

"Why wouldn't you?" you question.

Silas turns his dark eyes to you. "Because I gave my word to him. Unfortunately."

"So? You haven't kept your word earlier."

"Of course I have."

You scoff. "Like what? Name one time."

"I swore that I'd get you back." He tilts his head. "Didn't I hold that promise very well?"

You don't answer. You have to physically bite your tongue from spitting something out that you'll have to pay for dearly later on.

Dr Kry returns with a paper container.

"I got you meatballs", he says. "I hope that's fine."

"I'm not eating that", you mutter.

"I think you are. I don't think you've forgotten that your hands are a bit occupied — because those restraints seem to hurt — and if you want something, we have to do it for you … which means that we decide if you eat or not. Not you.” He holds the fork to your lips. “Now, open your mouth.”

You turn your head away.

“Don’t be a brat”, Dr Kry says.

“I don’t want to eat that!” you whine. “I don’t trust you!”

“I haven’t done anything to it, Y/N. Open up, please.”

Your stomach growls and you sigh, giving in. You open your mouth slightly, just enough to let the food in. Dr Kry smiles proudly. A string of brown sauce runs down your lips and he catches it with the fork before gently placing it into your mouth again, just like one would do with a baby. You cringe.

“I think our drooly baby here needs a bib”, Silas chuckles from his chair.

His embarrassing comments always ruins the mood. You pull yourself away form the food again and Dr Kry sighs, turning his head to the gang leader.

“Are you serious?” he hisses. “I just made them eat. You’re no help.”

Silas holds up his hands in front of him innocently, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. Dr Kry turns back to you and picks up a new spoonful of mashed potatoes and meatballs. You hesitate while glancing at Silas, waiting for him to make another comment.

“Don’t mind him”, Dr Kry says. “Just focus on me, okay?”

You move your eyes to the doctor. He sighs at your teary eyes.

“Does the restraint hurt?” he asks softly, caressing your left wrist over the belt-looking thing.

You have barely been able to feel the pain from the leather bands holding you down, but they do sting. You nod to his question, although it’s not the reason why you’re crying.

“I will remove them”, Dr Kry promises. “But I’ll have to do something else instead. We don’t quite trust you yet.”

“What are you going to do?” you whisper resentfully.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll see.” He holds the fork to your lips again. “Open up again, please.”

You comply this time. In silence, you manage to eat the entire container full of food.

“Now you should take an afternoon nap”, Dr Kry says.

“I’m not a child”, you spit.

“You sure do act like one”, Silas says, raising one of his dark eyebrows. “Running away, throwing temper tantrums … shooting people.” He stands up from his chair. “If you want to act like one, we’ll treat you like one.”

“Until you start to act like an adult”, Dr Kry adds. “Until then, you better believe that we’ll keep on treating you like you’re five. Now, time for a nap.”

He helps you lie down again. You refuse to close your eyes, refuse to let them out of your sight. They don’t talk much to each other. Silas is sitting in his chair with his phone out and Doctor Kry is by his desk, filing paperwork.

You want to scream when you feel the need to go to the bathroom. For thirty minutes, you try suppressing it. Asking to go feels more humiliating than Silas wanting to give you a baby bib.

“I need to go to the bathroom”, you say lowly.

The two of them look up immediately.

“What did you say?” Dr Kry asks.

“Bathroom”, you repeat shortly.

“Absolutely. I'll help you.”

He stands up and walks over to the bed. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the restraints disappear from your arms. Quickly, you sit up and massage your sore wrists. There’s clear marks after the leather bands, a bit of blood as well. Dr Kry takes your hands in his, inspecting. He hisses.

“We’ll have to put bandage on that”, he says. “You shouldn’t have moved too much.”

Silas walks over to you to inspect your wrists. He twists and turns to see every angle before placing a kiss on both marks. You flinch, ripping your arms back in shock.

“Come now, Y/N”, Dr Kry says and puts his hand on your back. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

“T-Together?” you question.

“You could hurt yourself. There are things in there you could use to harm yourself with. Im not letting that happen.”

Damn him and his professionalism.

You sigh heavily, giving up, silently relieved that it’s not Silas. Dr Kry follows you into the bathroom, standing by in silence. He doesn't give you a spare glance, staying as professional as he is. You wash your hands and sigh at the marks in your wrists.

"Let's get that patched up", he smiles.

"This is humiliating", you say weakly.

"It's just a precaution. I can't let you hurt yourself."

You show your wrists to him, eyebrows raised.

"That is a different case", he says.

A harsh knock can be heard on the door.

"Don't try anything, doc", Silas warns on the other side. "When are you coming out?"

Dr Kry massages his nose bridge with his index finger and thumb, sighing heavily. He unlocks the door and walks you out. While Dr Kry walks over to his desk, Silas walks back to his chair with his phone. You glance towards the door. Whatever Dr Kry had in mind to give you to substitute for the restraints will be sure to keep you bedridden. This is your only chance. None of their eyes are on you. Quickly, you shoot towards the door with all the power you have in your body. As on demand, the two men let go of their things and hurry after. You manage to grab the door handle before Silas has grabbed your shoulders and Dr Kry your arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" Silas asks, pulling you back.

"Let go of me!" you shout.

"Doc, whatever you had planned you better use it now."

Doctor Kry jogs over to his desk again and grabs a needle. You squirm in Silas’s grip and plead the doctor to put the syringe away.

"Stay still and it won't hurt as much", Dr Kry says, holding his hand on the base of your throat. "Deep breaths, count backwards from ten."

"No, please!" you scream desperately.

Silas covers your mouth with his rough hand and in the next second, the needle penetrates your skin. What feels like a stinging, burning sensation spirals through your body, effectively numbing it.

"Good job, almost there", Dr Kry praises. "Keep on breathing, you're doing great."

You feel your body growing weak in Silas embrace. He tightens his arms to keep you held up. You eventually stop fighting.

"Good job, Y/N, you did so well", Dr Kry smiles, removing the needle from your neck. "Silas, put them into bed."

Silas scoops you up like a bride on the wedding night and carries you back to your bed. Dr Kry starts to take care of your wrists and soon they're wrapped in white, comfy bandage.

After dinner — which consists of another meatball meal — they decide that you should go to sleep. But you refuse. They could do anything to you when you’re asleep. You don’t want to be moved again, you don’t want to be acknowledged.

“Y/N, close your eyes”, Silas says. “You’re just torturing yourself by being awake.”

“I don’t want to sleep!” you whine.

You wish that you could do something, but your body is feeling heavy and numb. You’re not sure where your limbs are or if they're held by one of the two men. Your body is already asleep, you should be too according to Silas and Dr Kry.

"Alright, I'm done with this", Dr Kry says after a long silence.

He stands up and walks over to the machines by your bed. You scurry to the other side of the bed with the little power you have left in your body.

"What are you doing?" Silas asks. "Don't do something without my approval."

"If Y/N won't sleep voluntarily, I'm going to help them", Dr Kry answers and lifts down a plastic mask connected to one of the machines by a tube. He pulls out a rubber band thats supposed to hold the mask latched onto the face. "Here, let me just put this over your nose and mouth-"

You cover the lower part of your face with your shaking hands. Your eyes glow with fear. They can numb your body until it's unmovable, but your eyes will always stay alert and alive.

"Y/N, please", Dr Kry sighs, putting his free hand over yours, about to pry yours off your face. "Just let me-"

You hide your face down in your arm. He stops and looks at you. Your body is trembling like a leaf swirling in the wind.

"Y/N, it's just anesthesia", he says comfortingly. "It'll help your mind relax so you can sleep. It's not going to hurt you."

He tries to move close again, but your crying halts his movements.

"Please …", you whisper weakly, shaking your head. "Please don't …"

Dr Kry sighs heavily, looks at Silas and then places the plastic mask on your stomach in defeat.

"Alright", he says. "I'm not going to force you. If you want to use it, just hold it over your mouth and inhale the gas."

He returns to his desk. Silas is about to stand up, but a particular strict gaze from the doctor makes him sit down again. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Sometimes you wonder if Silas is the one behaving like a child. After all, he throws tantrums, runs away from problems and shoots people. But if you said that out loud, you'd spend a month in his basement.

You stay awake for another hour out of spite, but you can feel how your body wants the sweet prize of sleep. You try to shut your eyes and drift of to sleep, but all the worries and thoughts about what they could do to you when you're out is stopping you from actually falling asleep. Your head is pounding with fear and minute by minute, you're slowly drifting to insanity.

You glance at the mask and hesitantly lift it to your face, making sure to cover both nose and mouth. Carefully, you give in and breathe the strong gas into your lungs. It doesn't take long until your head clouds up. The mask slips out of your hands and your head rests against the pillow.

Dr Kry looks up from his papers and sighs out in relief. Quietly, he moves over to you and picks up the mask, pulling out the rubber band to wrap around your head. The mask stays in place over your face.

"How long will that work?" Silas asks and stands up.

"It'll work for as long as we keep the mask on them", Dr Kry says. "We can make them sleep for as long as we want."

Silas fixes a strand of your hair that has been caught by the rubber band with a gentle smile.

"Are they usually this difficult?" Dr Kry wonders, raising a blonde eyebrow.

"Yes", Silas says. "That's why I've managed to develop a technique. You can't be soft with them, you have to be strict and force them. Otherwise they'll refuse and fight. Like today."

"No wonder they hate you."

Silas picks up the gun he stole back from you, placing it under Dr Kry’s chin. The blonde man doesn't react.

"They don't hate me", Silas growls. "Don't make me fucking shoot you."

"Are we back to this?" Dr Kry sighs, nodding his chin down on the gun testingly. "I have told you were to happen if you shoot me here. I wouldn't test my luck if I were you."

"You're such a clever thing, aren't you? God, you piss me off."

Nonetheless, Silas puts the gun back in his waistband. Dr Kry looks down at his phone, looking annoyed.

"I have to go help another doctor with a surgery, can you watch Y/N?" he asks. "Don't leave the room unless necessary and don't touch anything. Wrong button and you've hurt them."

"What will stop me from going through your drawers?"

"Your morality, I hope. I'll see you later."

With that said, he walks out and locks the door.

“‘Don't leave’, he said”, Silas scoffs and strolls over to your bed, lying down beside you. “How the fuck did he think I'd do that if he locks the door? My pretty baby, you are so precious, that pesky doctor doesn't know how to handle you.”

He knows you can’t hear him, but he finds it nicely to talk to you without you cursing at him in return. Silas smiles at you and pulls you closer to his body, hiding your face into his chest. He secures the rubber band in the back of your head with a small smile.

“Get the fuck of out the bed”, Dr Kry sighs as he enters the room two hours later. “You’ll break it.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I broke a bed”, Silas grins, pulling you closer to his chest.

Dr Kry grimaces. “Oh my God, be quiet, that’s disgusting.”

“Why? You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you be able to talk about those kind of things?”

“Do you ever just keep your mouth shut?”

“I could, but why not use my mouth for the greater good?”

“You’re not Superman, now get out of the bed.”

Silas sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. He starts to move out of the bed gently, making sure that you won’t get hurt. Before walking to the chair, he places a kiss on your forehead. With a smirk, he pets Dr Kry on the shoulder.

“Why so stiff, doc?” he asks amusingly, raising his eyebrows. “Haven’t you gotten laid in a while?”

“My sexlife is none of your business and yours is none of mine, so be quiet”, Dr Kry answers murderously cold and turns to his desk.

Silas smiles widely, almost like a school boy.

“You really like getting on people’s nerves, don’t you?” Dr Kry asks over his shoulder.

“No, just yours”, Silas smiles and sits down in his chair.

Dr Kry grits his teeth. “What an honor.”

Silas looks down at his phone, noticing a new message from his right hand man.

“Those stupid- … I have to go”, he growls and stands up, grabbing his coat. “Seems like I have to do everything myself! I’ll be back in an hour, don’t do anything to Y/N without my approval, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, just go”, Dr Kry says. “If it’s urgent, take the back door, there’s a special elevator for that.”

“Thanks, doc.”

With that said, he runs out. Dr Kry decides to sneak over to you and fix your blanket and mask. He caresses your cheek and sighs out in satisfaction. You look so sweet. So innocent. He touches the bandage on your wrists. Why did you have to fight so harshly? He doesn’t like seeing you hurt.

Dr Kry sits by his desk until Silas is back, an hour later, blood covering his clothes.

“What happened?” Dr Kry gasps.

“Shit happened”, Silas mutters. “Can I take a shower or something?”

“Yeah, sure. There are a towel in the bathroom and a bathrobe for patients. Wash the clothes in the sink and hang them somewhere.”

“Thanks.”

Silas walks into the bathroom and undresses. He thinks about you and the hospital. There’s nothing he’d like more than to bring you home and keep you in his bedroom again, but it’s not safe for you. It never was, but he had nowhere else to keep you. Here, you have doctor Kry to keep an eye on you when he has to work … and no one knows you’re here. Maybe he should keep you here? The doctor has everything necessary to keep you where they want you. Silas sighs and runs his hand through his wet, black hair. The water is hitting him in the face, but there’s something comforting about it.

He returns ten minutes later, wearing the white bathrobe.

“Do you think Y/N could stay here long term?” Silas asks.

“Yes, of course”, Dr Kry answers. “This room is mine, I can keep whoever I want in here for as long as I want.”

“Perfect.” He sits down by your bed, lifting your hand and giving it a gentle kiss. “Doc, if I pay for every medicine you need, could you keep Y/N safe while I’m working?”

“I’d do it even if you didn’t pay me.”

Silas smiles slightly.

Days go by, turning into weeks. You’re kept asleep for the most part, only woken up to use the bathroom, eat and wash yourself. You’re too drowsy and confused to do anything yourself. The two men take turns in helping your limp body. It’s an exhausting, dissociation feeling. You don’t know what time nor day it is when you wake up, and you certainly don’t know how long they’ve kept you asleep. You barely feel real. You’re starting to wonder if the real you is a small spider in the corner of the room, looking at the half dead human in the bed.

You’re sitting completely bare in the bathtub, hugging your knees close to your chest as Silas washes your hair. You don’t care about neither Silas or Dr Kry seeing your most vulnerable areas anymore. They’ve seen it all by now and you’re too gone to care. They’re keeping you alive, you’re grateful for that. Almost … a little too grateful. A guilty, shameful gratefulness. You should take care of your own body, two men shouldn’t have to do it for you! You’re ashamed of letting your life be controlled by them, but you’re happy that they’re taking care of your basic needs — at least. You sigh. You have to get a grip of yourself before it’s too late.

There’s a heavy feeling that has started eating you up from the inside. Something is building up in your stomach and is resting in the bottom of your throat. You want to burp, but you’re not able to, it keeps getting stuck. Every part of your body is aching, everything is wrong and on edge. You can’t take it anymore and finally allow yourself to break down in tears. Silas is quick to turn off the shower and turn your body to him.

“What’s wrong, little thing?” he asks worriedly, fixing your wet hair.

“I feel so sick”, you sob.

“It’s okay, it’s just the medicine. It’ll go away.”

He holds your wet face between his hands and kisses your forehead.

“I know it’s hard”, he says. "But you're my little champion, aren't you?"

Through your tears, you manage to nod. You have to be some kind of champion after everything you’ve been through.

Silas smiles reaches for the shower handle. "Are you doing fine? Should I continue?"

You nod, feeling completely out of it. Is this state making you lose your mind? Why did you kiss him back? Why are you answering him at all? Why are you taking his words to heart? Get a grip on yourself. He continues to wash your hair, now more touchy after your accidental affection. You curl up, sighing. Get a grip.

You're lifted out of the tub in a towel. Silas helps you dress in the bathrobe and makes you stay in front of the mirror while he dries your hair with the towel.

"Look at yourself, look how pretty you are", he smiles, placing a kiss in the top of your head.

You shiver and shake your head. After these last couple of weeks in a make believe coma and being stuck with these men you can no longer feel any empathy towards you. You’re disappointed in yourself for starting to cave in and you look half dead. How can you be pretty?

“You don’t think you’re pretty?” Silas gasps and hugs you from behind. “Nonsense, baby. You’re the most beautiful thing on this wretched planet. I wish you could let me show you how much I adore you.” He kisses your neck. “I’d make you feel so good, make you feel like the only person in the world. You’d never doubt yourself again, I promise. Please, will you let me take care of you?”

You shake your head. If you give yourself to him, you’ll never get out of his grip again and you know that very well. The very thought of it makes you sick to your stomach once again. You hold your hand over your weirdly aching stomach, frowning. Something’s creeping up your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Silas asks.

“I still feel sick”, you whisper. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Silas acts quickly. He pushes you towards the toilet, forces you down on your knees and opens the lid and pulls your hair out of your face.

“Go for it, I got you”, he says.

As if on commando — and maybe his rough actions — you empty everything Dr Kry’s forced down your throat the last few days. Your body hasn’t been able to digest much correctly when you’ve been forced to sleep for hours on end. You’re not sure much in your body is working right for the moment being.

“What’s going on?” Dr Kry asks worriedly and enters the bathroom. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“You’re the doctor!” Silas says. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“I’ll do an examination. When they’re done, take them out to the bed and I’ll take a look.”

Silas nods and turns to you, helping you.

“You’re doing good, Y/N”, Silas says. “Get it out.”

“It smells”, you whine with a grimace.

“You’re a champion, baby, aren’t you? You can push through.”

You whine tiredly. After a few more minutes of pure hell, you’re finally empty. Silas wipes your mouth with some paper and flushes the toilet. He carries you back to the bed where Dr Kry is waiting. You’re sat down.

“Okay, Y/N”, Dr Kry says. “I have some suspicions, but I need to test you.”

He performs a medical test on you to make sure that his medicine hasn't had too bad of an effect on you. He's counted on you feeling weak and heavy, but he couldn't have prepared himself for your digestion giving up.

"What's wrong with me?" you ask carefully, fearing the worst.

"I'm afraid that your digestion might need some help." Dr Kry reaches for the oxygen mask. "I'll figure something out while-"

"No, please don't make me sleep again!"

Dr Kry halts with the mask in hand.

“I think it’s the gas making me like this …”, you say. “Doctor, please don’t make me sleep again, I’ll be quiet and let you work.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them, doc”, Silas says, moving closer to the bed. “Just work.”

Silas sits beside you and lets you play games on his phone. He smiles gently everytime you manage to win a round of Candy Crush. Dr Kry smiles from his desk at your focused facial expressions. The two men relax, finally you’re showing some signs of giving it. You’re not crying, not fighting, just enjoying the moment by distracting yourself. They hope it can stay like this, but they both know all of this is on borrowed time.

“Do you still feel sick?” Dr Kry asks after a while.

“I’m feeling weird, but I’m not sure how to describe it”, you say quietly, suddenly shrinking again when remembering your awful situation. “It’s a bit better after I got to throw up … but I’m scared to eat. I don’t want to feel like that again.”

“I’m going to go get some tea for you to see if it can help your digestion. After that, I think you should go back to sleep.”

Dr Kry leaves the room. You turn to Silas with pleading eyes.

“Why do I have to sleep?” you ask carefully. “I don't want to. It’s so terrifying waking up and not knowing how much time has passed. I’m missing out on life …”

“When you’re asleep, you don’t have to feel any of the bad feelings or see what a horrible place we live in”, Silas answers, fixing your hair. “You’re safe from everything.”

You look down in your lap to get away from those dark, lovesick eyes of his. Silas slides over his phone to you again.

“Distract yourself, baby”, he says. “You’ll soon get some tea and then you’ll be feeling better. Keep on playing your little games. You look so cute when you focus.”

You decide to keep your mouth shut and do what he says. You manage to do two rounds of Subway Surfers before Dr Kry is back with a steaming cup in his hand.

“Here, Y/N”, he says and gives you the cup. “This should get your organs up and running.”

“I won’t throw up again, right?” you ask carefully.

“No, you won’t.”

You sip on it, taking your sweet time with a glance towards the oxygen mask. Will this be your life from now on? Kept asleep and only awoken when someone else wants you to be?

“Are you done?” Dr Kry asks after a while.

You look down in the cup. Empty. You gulp.

“No …”, you lie and pretend to take another sip.

“You’ve been sitting with that for ten minutes now. If you’re not done with it, it’s mostly likely ice cold by now.”

“When I’m done, you’ll make me sleep …”, you say. “So if i don’t finish it you can’t make me.”

“You little brat”, Silas laughs. “You’re so cute.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep, Y/N?” Dr Kry asks. “You’re not having to worry about anything, you can just relax. We’re waking you up when there’s nothing bad happening.”

“It’s not fair”, you whisper, shaking your head.

“Life’s not fair, peach”, Silas says and stands up, grabbing the mask. “Time to nap, little thing. Don’t worry, we will be here to protect you.”

You want to fight back, want to protest, but your body has given up. You know that there’s no use. They’ll get their way no matter how much you disagree. The mask gets once again placed over your face.

“Such a good patient”, Dr Kry praises as if he’s read your thoughts. “Letting us do whatever we want to you.”

You send him a gaze you intend to be a glare, but your head has already fogged up. Silas helps you lay down and the last thing you feel before everything turns into that familiar yet terrifying pitch blackness, is the soft pillow against your back. Silas tucks you in, making sure that none of your limbs are in any uncomfortable position. He sighs, stepping back. The two men look at each other with fear in their eyes, both knowing that this won’t work forever. Today was only one sign of the damage they do to you. Your body will fully break down someday, and that day might be the day they’ll lose you forever. But for now, they’ll keep you in the land of dreams where nothing can hurt you — not even you.

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