#get some rest and stop your useless worrying

[a-bucket-in-the-void]

y’all are all worried about the election, i got a test tomorrow i can’t worry about that

[inseobts]

Hi I have a request if they’re open!! Could you maybe do a Law x reader where she fell overboard and nearly drowned (but he saved her ofc) and him just being worried and protective? 👀

Overboard

law × reader

a/n: hope I made it cuteee

words count: 1.4k

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, protective law, fluff, near drowning

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sea is calm. Too calm.

You lean over the rail of the Polar Tang, watching the water sparkle under the sun. A soft breeze brushes your hair. You smile. Peaceful moments like this are rare.

Then, the ship rocks.

Just a little. But it’s enough.

Your foot slips. Your hand grabs for the rail, but misses.

You fall.

The cold hits you like a punch. Salt water fills your nose, your mouth. You try to scream, but it’s useless. The ocean pulls you down.

“Y/N!”

Law’s voice cuts through the air. Sharp. Panicked.

Shachi runs to the side “She fell—she fell overboard!”

Law’s eyes are wide. He’s already moving. Fast “Ring. Now!”

Bepo tosses him a life ring. Law doesn’t hesitate. He throws it, eyes scanning the surface.

“Where is she?!”

“There!” Penguin points. Just a flash of your hand before it disappears again.

“Room.”

His fingers twitch. A blue bubble appears over the water.

Law grits his teeth “Shambles.”

In a blink, your soaked, limp body appears in front of him, inside the Room. He drops to his knees, catches you before you hit the deck.

“Y/N!” His voice is rough “Hey. Hey—breathe.”

You don’t move.

“Dammit.” He places you flat. His hands are shaking.

“Move!” he snaps. The others back away. Law leans down. Checks your pulse. Weak. Barely there.

He starts CPR.

One compression. Two. Three “Come on.”

Your lips are blue. Hair plastered to your face.

He gives you air.

Another round “Come on, damn you. Breathe.”

Then you cough. Hard. Salt water splashes from your mouth. You gasp. Choke. Your body shakes.

“Y/N.” His voice breaks “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

You blink up at him, eyes dazed “L-Law?”

He pulls you into his arms before you can say more “You scared the hell out of me.”

You try to smile, but cough again “Y-You… saved me…”

He holds you tighter “You idiot. I can’t swim. If you hadn’t been close—”

“But you still did it.”

“Of course I did.”

You rest your head against his chest, weak but alive.

He presses his lips to your wet forehead.

“You’re never going near the edge again. Ever.”

It’s been two days.

You’re fine now, mostly. Still a little sore, still coughing sometimes. But breathing, walking, laughing. Alive.

Law watches you like you might fall again.

“Don’t lean on the rail.”

You raise your brow “I’m just standing.”

“You’re too close.”

You step back with a small sigh “Fine, Captain.”

He narrows his eyes “I’m serious.”

“I know. I know, Law.”

You smile at him, soft and thankful. His glare weakens a little. Only a little.

Later, in the mess hall, you sit between Shachi and Penguin.

They grin the second Law walks in.

“Hey, Captain!” Shachi elbows you “Y/N’s not drowning in her soup, you can relax!”

Law stops. Looks at them. Slowly.

“I can throw you overboard,” he says calmly “We’ll see how funny it is then.”

“Okay, okay—jeez, we’re just joking” Penguin laughs.

Bepo chuckles “He’s been checking the life rings twice a day now.”

You cover your mouth, trying not to laugh. Law glares at all of them, then looks at you.

You’re smiling. That smile he nearly lost.

His expression softens again. Just a bit “Eat your food” he mutters, sitting next to you.

You nudge his arm “You okay?”

“I wasn’t” he says, quiet, for only you to hear.

You reach under the table and grab his hand “I know. But I’m here.”

He holds on tight.

The next morning, you walk toward the deck.

Law’s voice comes from behind you.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some air.”

He steps beside you “I’m coming with you.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t complain.

On deck, the sea is calm again. Sun rising, golden and slow.

You look over the rail, carefully. Law’s hand grabs your waist.

“Don’t.”

You lean back against his chest instead “Okay, okay.”

He wraps his arms around you. Protective. Strong.

“I’m not losing you to the sea” he says.

“You won’t.”

“You almost did.”

You tilt your head back “But you pulled me back.”

He leans down, kisses your temple “Next time, I’ll chain you to the floor.”

You laugh “Romantic.”

He smirks “I try.”

Law is still following you around. Not that you mind.

He doesn’t say much. Just appears wherever you go. Like a very tall, very grumpy shadow with a medical license.

You’re trying to read on the couch in the infirmary. Law sits at his desk across the room, pretending to do paperwork.

But he’s not writing. Just watching you.

You glance up “You can sit with me, you know.”

He hesitates for half a second. Then walks over and drops beside you. Not touching, but close.

You nudge his arm “Still keeping an eye on me?”

He doesn’t answer. Just pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and throws it over you.

“You were shivering” he says.

You weren’t.

You smile “Thanks.”

Later, you lie in bed in your shared room. Law is reading a medical journal beside you, propped on one elbow. Your head rests on his chest, his fingers absently running through your hair.

“You’re breathing normally” he murmurs.

You smile against his shirt “That’s a weird thing to say.”

“Not for me.”

You look up “I scared you that much?”

His fingers pause. Then move again. Slower. Softer.

“Yes.”

You kiss his collarbone gently “I’m sorry.”

He pulls you closer, rests his chin on your head “Just… don’t scare me again.”

“I’ll try,” you whisper “But if I do, I know you’ll save me.”

His chest rises in a small sigh “Always.”

The next morning, you find a folded vest by your boots.

It’s heavy-duty. Bright yellow. With little fish drawings on it.

There’s a note:

“Wear this when you go near the ocean. —L”

You blink. Then burst out laughing.

Shachi sees it and cackles “Captain really went and got you a baby floatie, huh?”

“It’s cute!” Bepo says, tail wagging.

Law walks in. Sees you holding the vest.

His face is completely serious “Put it on.”

You hug it to your chest “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m keeping you alive,” he says “Even if I have to embarrass you to do it.”

You walk over, wrap your arms around him.

He hugs back, burying his face in your neck for a moment.

“I love you” you whisper.

“I know,” he says quietly “I love you too.”

The day is sunny. Warm breeze. Calm waves.

You sit on the deck with Bepo, playing cards. Law’s nearby, reading, but his eyes flick to you every few seconds.

Just checking.

You pretend not to notice. But you smile every time he looks.

Shachi walks by with a broom and stops “Wow. Still breathing, huh?”

You stick out your tongue “Barely. Law’s watching like I’ll spontaneously fall into the sea again.”

Penguin grins, arms crossed “Honestly, we thought he was gonna build a fence around the whole ship.”

Law doesn’t even look up “Still considering it.”

Bepo hums “Maybe a baby leash would work better.”

Everyone laughs. Even you. Law sighs like he’s surrounded by idiots.

But then he glances at you. And his eyes soften again.

That evening, the crew throws a small party.

No reason. Just because you’re okay. Because you’re all together. And because they like to tease.

There’s food, drinks, music from a Den Den radio. You dance with Bepo, then with Shachi, then with Law who only agrees after you pull him in.

He’s awkward at first. But his arms fit perfectly around your waist. You sway slowly, not caring about rhythm.

“You’re still watching me” you say softly.

“Of course I am.”

“You’re kind of overprotective, you know.”

“I nearly lost you in that stupid way” he replies, voice low “I’ll be overprotective for a while.”

You press your forehead to his “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.”

Shachi whistles loudly “Look at the lovebirds! Careful, Captain! If she drowns in your eyes, we can’t save her!”

Penguin howls “Somebody get a lifebuoy for his feelings!”

You groan into Law’s shoulder “Why do we live with these people?”

“I ask myself that every day.”

But he’s smiling. A real, relaxed smile you don’t see often.

You take his hand and squeeze it.

“Thanks for pulling me back” you whisper.

He kisses the side of your head.

“I always will.”

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Hope you're doing okay, and take it easy if you haven't been!

For the flirty prompts starters list, could you maybe do: "Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you." with Vil? I think it'd be a good one

Thanks!

(I hope you have fun writing this if you do! No biggie if you don't or if someone else already asked!)

GIGGLING SO MUCH

summary: "stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you" type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, Vil experiencing cuteness aggression.jpg, not proofread a part of this event

Vil considers himself to be an eloquent man.

After all, how one speaks is just as important as how one carries themselves, and every last inch of him, from his looks to his body language to his words, have been refined to perfection. Each a golden thread in the dazzling tapestry that is Vil Schoenheit.

And yet, despite that, he still can't seem to find a way to describe you.

Frustrating is not quite right. Epel is frustrating. Those first years you insist on spending your precious time with are frustrating. But you...

You are not annoying, nor are you incompetent. His usual vocabulary for the students of NRC is useless when it comes to you.

...And different is too vague.

Vil just seems to forget what to do with his hands when you're around.

You look so soft in the golden afternoon light of the lounge, which is distracting enough as it is. Now you're giggling in the way you do, and he can't concentrate, and... what was he doing, again?

"Stop that," he says, plainly, not looking up from the textbook he'd been reading. Or trying to, anyway. He'd lost his place some time ago.

You make this... sound, this confused little hum, and he pictures you tilting your head to the side like a puppy. Sevens, you're just so...

He huffs. "I said, stop,"

"Stop what?"

Clueless little thing. Vil sighs, finding it within himself to make eye contact. He'd given up on finishing this assignment early, anyway.

"You know what,"

You stare back, unblinking. Are you really so oblivious? No, there's no way you aren't doing this on purpose, whatever it is, just to get on his nerves. Did those friends of yours put you up to this?

He should scold you. He invited you to study with him, a luxury which many would pay millions for, and here you are, being...

Ugh. He still can't think of the right word.

"Am I being too loud?" you ask, a confused lilt in your voice.

Sevens, you are so dense, he wants to just grab you and squeeze you like a stress ball until a thought comes out of that empty head.

The thought of that is no help. If anything, it just bothers him more.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Are you really not doing this on purpose? "No. You're distracting me,"

"Oh... sorry,"

...In such a soft, meek little tone, like you really feel bad about it, looking up at him with those eyes of yours... ugh. He wants to bite you, squeeze you in his arms until this overwhelming, restless feeling passes. You're so...

"It's... fine," Vil relents. "I don't think I would've gotten much done today, anyway."

You actually tilt your head to the side this time, worsening his condition. "Something on your mind?"

Sevens, what are you doing to him? He can't sit still. He pictures himself reaching across the table to pinch your cheeks, to kiss that sweet, worried expression off your face. The effect you have...

And you're not even doing anything!

"No," he says, his voice strained with the weight of the lie. "Just burnout. It's a busy time of year for me."

You seem to take that as a cue, standing from your seat with wide eyes and holding out a hand, much to his chagrin.

"You should be resting, then. Overworking yourself will only make things worse. Come on, let's go back,"

Such a determined expression on that pretty face of yours. There's just something about how you respond so innocently, so intent on caring for him, you're...

You're so...

Vil feels his heart drop. Oh, Sevens. That's the word.

You're so cute.

"Stop that," he snaps. He can feel his face warming. "This is the last time I'll ask."

A little flash of annoyance crosses your face at his dismissal. How adorable...

"Stop what?" You repeat.

Even your scoff is cute. His face feels hot. He can handle beautiful. Gorgeous, pretty, sexy, even, But not cute. And now he's getting himself all worked up over it, and you're being so sweet, and...

"Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you!"

Nothing has ever had such an effect on him before.

After all, it would take something incredible to fluster Vil- and here he is, blurting out every thought he has, blushing like a schoolgirl as he realizes what just came out of his mouth.

Vil Schoenheit, suddenly terrified of being rejected. It was as if he'd woken up in a parallel universe.

Or died, and went to his own personal Hell.

The shock slowly wears off your face, and you... laugh.

You laugh.

"You're very forward,"

"I'll take that as a compliment, and not the way you meant it," he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Though I'm failing to find what's so amusing."

You move around the table to sit next to him, eyes gleaming. "How would you like me to react, then?"

Vil stares back. Was that... flirtation? Perhaps you're not so oblivious, after all...

But still cute.

Still very cute.

He sighs, though there's a smile playing at his lips now. "Save me the embarrassment of being rejected,"

"Hmm... I suppose that can be arranged,"

And with that, he cups your face in his hands and draws you in for that kiss.

[cyripticchronicler]

Hiii I have a request for Matt Murdock I was thinking him with an reader who’s job has gotten more stressful and it starts to get to them they get dizzy and lightheaded but brush it off until it happens around Matt and he can sense that it happened and he gets all protective and caring

Preferably fem reader but gn is also totally fine so everyone can enjoy it !

If this isn’t your cup of tea I totally get that !

In His Arms

Thank you for requesting, sweetie. I kind of went off track a little and I'm sorry :( (If you want me to rewrite it I happily will!) But either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by your growing workload and the pressure to prove yourself, you keep your struggles hidden—even from Matt. When the stress leads to a breakdown, he pulls you back, reminding you that love means sharing the load.

TW: Panic attack, mentions of anxiety, pet names (I can't help it), swearing

Masterlist

Stress was a familiar feeling to you. Its sharp claws seemed always to be gripping onto you tightly. You’ve learnt how to manage the lack of air in your lungs and the painful squeezing of your heart whenever you go through a rough patch. 

That’s why the feeling of anxiety creeping up your spine was carelessly ignored. You regret that you shrugged the feeling away, too focused on your work. It’s much easier to calm your bones' nervous trembles before it worsens. 

But now it’s too late. 

You’ve been so distracted by your work. Your colleague had just gone on maternity leave after giving birth to twins. You weren’t sure what would happen to her workload, but you certainly didn’t think it would all be passed down to you. 

Now all your brain can seem to focus on is the deadlines coming closer by the minute. They flash in your mind each time you consider taking a break. You never take a break - this is your one chance to prove to your boss that you’re ready to take on more responsibility. The rumours floating around the office of potential promotions, motivating your hard work ethic. 

You’ve always been a hard worker; had always been distracted by what you consider important rather than what was essential- like eating, or sleeping. Each time you got away with it. You didn’t have anyone to look after you. 

Until Matt came along. 

He’s such an attentive man and would be even without his heightened senses. You knew he’d be worried about your desperation to complete your work, completely gone to the rest of the world as your stomach grumbled louder and your under eyes got darker. 

He’s a natural worrier. That’s what compelled you to keep your stress a secret. It’s hard lying to a human lie detector,  so you’ve taken to avoiding instead. It’s easy to avoid him when you’re so busy, anyway. A couple of messages per day seems to keep him subdued for now and you’re glad; it’s all the attention you could offer.

Your lip is pulled between your teeth, chewing hard enough to draw the taste of metallic blood. None of the words before you make sense through your blurry eyesight. As you attempt to read the same sentence for the third time, you angrily rip off your glasses and groan. 

Black spots take over your vision as you rub at your eyes aggressively, hoping the sickeningly dizzy feeling that’s making your throat feel tight will go away. It’s useless, yet you only allow yourself a second break before gulping down some water and returning to work. 

Your phone rings as soon as your fingertips touch the keys of your laptop and a curse slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. You hate yourself for the spark of annoyance that has your blood boiling when you read Matt’s name on your phone. 

He’d already left three messages from before. As well as a voice message that you hadn’t yet listened to; you were practically forced to answer the phone so as not to draw concern. You’re determined not to burden him with your issues - he’s a vigilante for God’s sake, he doesn’t need your petty problems on top of his own. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” His deep voice crackles through your phone speaker. Instantly, your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter shut. He’s the bright sun during cold days, the flowers during winter; beautiful and everything you long to see.

“Hey, Matt.” You respond lazily, mustering up enough energy to open your eyes and read the words on your laptop screen. You use one hand to type while the other holds your phone to your ear. You can hear his smile in his voice. “I’ve barely talked to you all day. I thought you were coming to mine for dinner. Did you get my voicemail?”

Guilt nags at your stomach. “I’m so sorry, Matt,” the little sigh you can hear through the other line has your heart splintering, “I’ve just been so busy with staying on top of my work as well as Mara’s-”

“It’s okay. I know how busy you’ve been. I could come by with dinner. I can do some work while you do yours.” You hate to diminish the hope in his voice, but you know he'd be worried about your obvious stress as it shines through in your old clothing and unbrushed hair (not that he’d be able to see but feel). 

“Can we do a raincheck?” You whisper, guilt nagging at your stomach. His voice is so sweet. So understanding. It makes you want to cry. “Of course, baby. Try to eat, please. And take breaks. I’ll call you tomorrow; maybe we can go out for lunch.”

“Maybe,” If I’ve got enough work done, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You drop your phone on your lap as soon as the call ends. For once, you’re thankful for the large amounts of work, as it distracts you from the guilt that claws and tugs at your skin. 

⚝⚝⚝

The second time Matt calls, you’re nose-deep in paperwork that was slammed down on your desk. ‘More of Mara’s work,’ your boss said before leaving you with the rasing anxiety in your chest. Thoughts of taking your lunch break didn’t even assimilate in the blurry haze of your mind. 

Only the shrill ring of your phone brought you out of your bubble of work. Sighing, you don’t bother to check the name before picking it up, as you already know who it is. “Hey, Matt.” Your hand still scribbles words on the paper, phone pressed awkwardly against your ear by your shoulder.

“Hey. I called to see if you wanted lunch, but you sound busy.” Unlike last time, his voice doesn’t soothe your racing heart. If anything he makes it worse. “I’m so sorry,” you hope he can hear the sincerity in your voice, “I miss you. As soon as the crazy amount of work has subsided, I’ll call you.”

“Is there any way I can help?” You can’t help but smile at his caring nature, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But you know if you went to lunch you’d be too focused on work to be good company. “Remember that I love you?”

His laugh makes your heart melt, anxiety melting away with it. “Of course. As long as you remember that I love you. I won’t call so I don’t distract you from your work, but please take care of yourself. I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the phone and instead of returning to work immediately, you just sit there in silence, staring at the piles of paperwork in front of you. The sting of unshed tears joined by a nervous feeling in your stomach is enough to make you want to throw up. You’re so tired. 

You should have listened to your body. You should have gone out for lunch and taken a break. But instead, you got back to work, ignoring the bright red signs of a panic attack on the rise. 

⚝⚝⚝

Having been diagnosed with anxiety when you were younger, you’ve learned to identify signs of an upcoming panic attack. First, you begin to feel dizzy, then a little lightheaded. Your heart begins to hurt, and your stomach starts to turn. Then you can’t breathe, and you’re scratching at your skin to give your lungs more space to breathe. 

Now, as you stand in your kitchen, staring at the piles of paperwork that cover the dining room table, it’s hard to ignore how your body reacts to the sight of the never-ending workload; the feelings you so carelessly ignored before forced to be brought to attention. 

Your eyesight is unfocused, and you are unable to concentrate on the hand you’re using to prepare a small dinner. Your hands violently shake by your side and feel incredibly weak. But that isn’t what worries you; it’s the lack of air entering your lungs that has your eyes squeezed shut. 

Feelings of worthlessness travel up your throat and block your airways. You’re having a panic attack. The realization has you sliding down the fridge and to the floor, tears running freely down your flushed cheeks. You bring your knees to your chest, hands scratching at your throat as if it would allow air into your beaten lungs. 

Your body feels so weak, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you tried. You’re lost to the darkness and anguish the past weeks have wrought upon you; lost to the cruel insecurities your mind created to fool you into this vicious despair. 

No matter how hard you cry, how hard you claw and scrape at your skin, you still can’t breathe. Hopelessness washes over your chilled skin, pulling you into its shadows. You can do nothing but let it take you as its own, the fight for air warring off as you succumb to the darkness that spots your eyes. 

And as your eyes flutter shut, you fail to notice the opening of the window in the living room. You fail to notice the hurried steps and the gloved hands that hold your face gently. Or the man’s desperate calls of your name. 

⚝⚝⚝

The first thing you notice when you regain consciousness is the exhaustion that wracks through your frail body. The second thing is the man who lays next to you on your bed. 

Matt. 

He’s sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. You frown, unsure of why he’s here. The last thing you remember was you freaking out about the workload and having a panic attack. You must have fainted from the lack of air, you consider then immediately cringe. How embarrassing. 

“What are you thinking about?” You jump at the sound of Matt’s deep voice, eyes shooting up to watch a small smile grace his face at your reaction. “Why are you here?” The question comes out ruder than you intended, but Matt’s smile doesn't waver. 

“I was on patrol,” he begins, pulling you into his warm embrace, “and figured I’d stop by to check on you. I wasn’t going to come in, just listen-”

“-that’s not creepy at all-”

“-then I heard you panicking. Your heart was beating really fast and you were breathing really heavily. You were already passed out from lack of air by the time I was inside.” He pulls you in tighter like the moment still haunts him. You trace your fingertips gently down his bare arm, ear against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asks when it became clear you weren’t going to speak. You sigh. “I’ve been a little stressed lately. And I should’ve listened to my body but I didn’t. There’s just so much work and such little time. I can’t handle all of this workload.” The familiar bite of tears has you shoving your head in Matt’s neck, letting him hold you tightly and reassure you that everything will be okay. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked through your stress together,” He questions quietly and you shake your head in response. “You take the burden of everyone else’s problems, and still go out every night to face all the bad guys- I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems on top of all the rest.”

He pulls away and you try not to frown at the lack of contact. Slowly, his fingers move under your chin and compel you to look into his beautiful, unfocused eyes that sparkle in the city lights shining through your windows. “You are not a burden. Your problems are not a burden. I want to be here for you. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that smart little head of yours-” He flicks your forehead playfully before giving it a small kiss “-And I want you to know you can talk to me.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling like a child that’s just been scolded. “Okay.” He lays there in silence for a moment, seemingly contemplating his words before he speaks, “I think you need to talk to your boss,” you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off with a gentle squeeze, “This amount of work isn’t healthy. I mean, why hasn’t the workload been separated and passed around to all of your co-workers? It’s fucking stupid if you ask me. She’s obviously taking advantage of your brilliance-”

“-Matt,” You cut him off with an amused smile. His eyes glint at the sound of your giggles as if that was his mission all along and he won first place. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. If anything I’m being selfish.” He grins cheekily, kissing your palm as it raises to cup his cheek. “And why, pray tell, are you being selfish?” Your smile is sly and knowing. 

“Because I’m doing this to get my beautiful girl back and into my arms. Foggy isn’t as good company as you, y’know.” You giggle, holding him tightly as your mind settles on a decision. “I’ve missed you too.”

Tomorrow you’ll call your boss and ask for a lessened workload. But for now, you’re just going to lay in bed with the man you love dearly and let him hold you tightly. 

[wildwestdean]

repose

based on a request made by @chevroletdean! 🤍

a/n: this is a repost, because i tried to edit the main post when half asleep but my dumb ass deleted it instead 😭

summary: you catch a cold while out on a hunt with dean. you refuse to take it easy once back at the bunker, so he takes matters into his own hands to try and help you recover - even if it means bribing you into finally getting some rest

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: some mentions of violence/mutilation in the beginning, established relationship, stubborn reader, reader puts her own health on the back burner, reader doesn't like to feel useless, reader won't take her meds, fluff, a touch of angst, minor swearing, protective dean, worried dean, dean goes full caretaker mode, dean just really loves reader, briefest mention of clothes being taken off, reader gets carried around, more fluff

Dean knew it was a bad idea. 

He knew he should’ve tried harder to stop you, but really, what was he supposed to do? The suspect was about to get away, and you were too stubborn in your ways once you set your mind to something. All he could do was watch as you ran out the door, quickly disappearing within the sheets of freezing rain that were falling while he cursed to himself. 

His first thought wasn’t a declaration of fear that the suspect might get a drop on you. No, despite your appearance, your skills were rivalled only by those of Sam and Dean themselves; they taught you everything you knew, after all. Instead, shockingly, the first thought to cross his mind was: she’s going to catch a cold. 

Hurrying after you, you two easily managed to apprehend the suspect to haul him back to the warehouse for questions, all while Dean grumbled about how you should’ve stayed put and let him deal with it; a rant that only earned him a roll of your eyes in return. You didn’t venture out very far, and while it did feel like you were soaked straight through to the bone, the warehouse was growing closer and would soon offer respite from the downpour - his worrying, like usual, would end up being over nothing. 

Yet the chill you were met with once back in the warehouse almost had you regretting your choice, and had it not been for the sickening grin you were given by the douchebag that Dean was currently tying to a rickety chair, you probably would have. You were convinced it was even colder in here than outside; but you refused to let Dean in on that fact.

He didn’t pick up on it right away, focusing solely on extracting the answers that were buried behind the soulless eyes he glared into. He always enjoyed taking his time when it came to things like this, letting the fear and dread settle in their hearts as he threatened to carve into skin or chop off extremities. It was fun, really, and he was enjoying it right up until you decided to pitch in, voicing your own threat of cutting off a very precious body part piece by little piece.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Dean took on a new sense of urgency to get the information you two needed. You could see it in every choice he made: how his pacing quickened, how his voice got darker and tighter while his patience drained away, how he stopped giving warning before his knife dove into flesh. 

You knew he was suddenly in a hurry to wrap this all up, but what you didn’t know was why. You didn’t know that when you spoke, Dean heard the waver in your voice, the quiet chatter of your teeth as you shivered from the cold. You didn’t think it was noticeable, but when it came to you, there was nothing Dean wouldn’t notice. 

With the increase of effort and decrease of delicacy, it wasn’t much longer until Dean finally got what he needed, and he plunged his knife through skin and muscle one final time before eagerly leading you from the warehouse.

“Wait here,” he requested, gently tugging you back just before you could step outside. 

“What, why?” you asked, silently amazed at how warm his palm felt on your arm despite being just as drenched as you were. “We need to finish up.”

“Just wait here,” he repeated, running out into the darkness before you could even reply. 

Left confused in his wake, all you could do was stand there and wait for him to return, trying to ignore the way your whole body wanted to tremble in response to the frigid air. You really, really longed for a hot shower right now, and the fact you knew you needed to dispose of this body somewhere out in this storm made tears threaten to spill over onto your still dampened face. 

The sight of Baby’s headlights cutting through the curtain of rain was like a breath of fresh air to you, and you yearned to just curl up on her front seat while the heat blasted from the dash. 

“One step at a time,” you told yourself. “Take care of the body, then you can warm up on the drive back.” 

Dean made it clear he had other plans in mind when he pulled up as close to the door as possible, leaving the engine running as he ran back over to you. 

“Heat’s on,” he declared, shaking some excess water from his jacket. “Lock yourself inside, I shouldn’t be too long.” 

“Too long doing what?” you asked, totally lost. 

He looked just as confused as you were, not understanding what you didn’t understand. 

“Getting rid of the body,” he declared after a moment, as though it were completely obvious. 

“You’re not doing that alone,” you argued in bewilderment. 

“Yes I am,” he argued back. 

“Dean-” you wanted to argue some more, but he cut you off by taking your face in his palms. 

“Even the screams couldn’t cover up the sound of your knees knockin’ together,” he teased. “Go wait in the car, baby. If you don’t go willingly, I’ll gladly toss you in.” 

You had the urge to say no, wanting to be useful and help him, but you backed down when you saw the look in his eyes.

“Fine,” you agreed, sighing in defeat. “But if you’re not back soon, I will be coming to find you,” you warned. 

Dean grinned in triumph as he planted a kiss on your forehead. “Understood,” he confirmed, guiding you to the car before heading off to carry out his mission. 

It wasn’t until a few days later, when you finally made it back to the bunker, that you realized maybe Dean’s worrying hadn’t been over nothing after all. Despite having the heat cranked all the way up in every motel room, those worn down radiators could really only do so much. The piercing winds would seep through the meekly insulated windows, finding you even under the feigned safety of blankets and tight embrace of Dean; not to mention there being no way to avoid the icy blows whenever you made stops along the road. The sheer lack of sleep you got due to rushing back home seemed to be the final nail in the coffin, and your body was too exhausted to fight off the inevitable. 

It started as a tickle in your throat, which resulted in you continuously chugging back tea and honey; honey that Cas was extremely thrilled to provide you with. Dean was quick to notice you started doing this, and took it upon himself to bring you a mug whenever you were tied up with Sam and looking into some lore, or tirelessly helping Jack understand his latest discovery of the day. 

When the tickle in your throat developed into you having a full blown cough, he bought you your favourite cough drops, keeping an eye on them to make sure you didn’t run out. Though when they seemed to not be enough, he made sure to get you some cough syrup, too. 

He did his best to make sure you didn’t do too much, but asking you to take things easy was like asking a baby not to cry. It just wasn’t going to happen. You had the constant need to be productive, to be helpful. Feeling a little under the weather wasn’t going to change that. Him getting you to see a doctor was nothing short of a miracle, and the fact you were just about as stubborn as him was nearly ironic; he would laugh about it if he wasn’t so worried about you. 

His worry only magnified tenfold when he went to check on you one night, only to find your room empty. He tried convincing you to let him stay with you like usual, but you didn’t want him to get sick, too. He was really regretting not pushing back on that more, now that he found you in the library, lost in a pile of books; he had to take a breath to compose himself before speaking. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, approaching the table. 

“Research,” you croaked, eliciting another coughing fit. 

“Research?” he baulked. “For what? And why now?” 

You coughed once more, chugging down the rest of your tea before replying. “T’help Sammy. Couldn’sleep anyway,” you sniffled, words jumbled together from congestion.  

Dean sighed heavily, taking a seat beside you. “You didn’t even try to sleep, did you?” 

The lack of response from you told him everything he needed to know. 

“Alright, come on,” he announced, reaching for the book you were reading. 

Your reaction time was definitely slower than usual, but you still managed to pull the book out of his reach just in time. “No.” 

Knowing it would be a losing battle, and that it would probably cause more harm than good to just toss you over his shoulder and carry you to your room, he got up with a huff and left. You assumed he was angry, and felt a little guilty for upsetting him when he was just looking out for you, but you knew you were fine enough to carry on with this for a while longer.  

The last thing you currently expected was for him to return with a bowl of your favourite soup, leftover from when he made some for you earlier, and another large mug of tea, placing them on the free space in front of you before sitting back down. 

“If you wanna be helpful, then you’re gonna sit there and eat while I look for whatever the hell it is we’re looking for,” he ordered, easily snatching the book from you. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, picking up the spoon. “Bossy,” you added, hoping he didn’t see the smile playing on your lips as you feigned annoyance. 

He definitely did, but he kept it to himself as you gave him a cliff notes version of what you were looking into between spoonfuls of soup. 

You aren’t sure when it happened, but at some point between finishing the soup and drinking half the tea, you started to drift off; the warmth of his palm on your thigh and comfort of his soft rambling beside you lulling you to sleep. 

This time, Dean knew he would win the battle against you, and he carefully took you in his arms and carried you to bed, staying with you until morning.

Days had continued to go by, and you only seemed to be getting worse. Dean didn’t know what else to do and it was driving him mad - he couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore. 

He refused to take no as an answer now when it came to him doing things for you, and took over every task you tried to start. He followed you around, practically glued to your side, never letting you lift a finger and being a second pair of eyes when you did any research. 

Research that he tried to stop from coming in by threatening to break Sam’s legs if he didn’t quit bothering you for help, only to find out you were doing it of your accord. 

Even Jack had decided to stop coming to you for things until you were better, since he knew you’d never let him heal you.

Yet Dean knew it wasn’t enough. He knew you needed to just fucking lay down and rest. 

Waking up in the middle of the night to find your side of the bed empty once more, Dean stormed off towards the hub of the bunker as he shouted your name - he didn’t care if he woke everyone up at this point. 

He didn’t stop until he found you in the kitchen, frantically cleaning and completely unaware of his presence. 

“Baby?” he asked cautiously, hesitantly approaching you. 

“'m’not going back t’bed,” you told him, not even looking at him.

“Okay,” he said. “Why not?” 

“Too much t’do,” you replied simply, trying to breeze past him. 

“Hey, whoa,” he called, gently taking hold of your shoulders. “Look at me.” 

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, meeting his gaze after he forced your chin up.

He took note of your distant gaze and pale skin, practically burning under his touch. Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place. “You’re really not, sweetheart,” he determined, tucking your hair behind your ears. “You have a fever. Which means you haven’t even been taking your meds, have you?” 

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise at his question, before you averted your gaze in guilt. “No.” 

Dean wanted to be mad at you. Well, truthfully, Dean was mad at you. You’ve been doing seemingly everything you could to prevent yourself from recovering, while Dean was trying as hard as he could to help you. He wanted to yell at you, but more importantly, he just wanted to understand. 

“Why?” he asked gently, softly running his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks. 

“They make me groggy,” you told him.

“You mean they make you sleep,” he corrected, knowing what it was you wouldn’t say. “I don’t understand why you won’t let yourself rest.” 

You shrugged helplessly, feeling smaller than ever under his searching gaze. “I don’ like feelin’ useless.” 

“You’re not useless, baby. You’re sick,” Dean defended. 

“Still,” you said, not having a better argument. “I need t’help.”

“How about we make a deal?” he suggested, fully understanding how it feels to not want to lay around and not help with anything, all while everyone else seemed to scramble around.

“Like?” you wondered, lightly shoving him away so you wouldn’t sneeze on him. 

“Like,” he said, feeling more and more like this was the best idea. “You leave this mess as is, go take your medicine, and lay down with me.” 

“That’s not a deal,” you argued thickly. 

“I didn’t finish!” he said with a laugh. “You do that for me, and that disgustingly cheesy movie you love so much? Not only will I watch it with you from start to finish, but I won’t even make a single joke about it.” 

“But what about-” 

“Sam and I can handle the mess later,” he said with a sigh, already knowing what you would ask. 

“‘kay,” you sniffled. “Then deal.” 

“Good,” he grinned, not giving you a chance to change your mind and scooping you off your feet once more.

He made a stop at the bathroom first, so that he could help you freshen up and do your usual nightly routine. Lord knows he watched you do it enough times to know it step by step, and he was never more grateful for that than right now.

Once that was all taken care of, he took you to your room to get you fully settled for the night. He gently peeled off your lounge clothes to slip one of his clean sweatshirts over your head before tucking you into bed. He grabbed you a glass of water so you could take your medicine. He hunted down extra blankets to keep by the bed in case you got cold. He settled in beside you, setting up the movie as you nestled against his chest. 

It was barely even twenty minutes in by the time you were sleeping soundly in his arms. Dean smiled to himself, carefully landing a kiss on the top of your head as he carried on with the movie. 

He started to doze off about halfway through, and he knew in his heart that if this was the deal he’d have to make every night while you recovered, he’d gladly do so. There was definitely no shortage of these cheesy movies you loved, and there was nothing in the universe that mattered to him more than you and your wellbeing. 

Besides, even though he’d never admit, these romcoms you liked really weren’t half bad. 

taglist: @roseblue373, @redmaro86, @snowayumi, @iluvdeanwinchester, @winharry, @star-yawnznn, @jc-winchester

if you'd like to be added or removed from this list, please let me know!

(sorry for the double tag on this y'all, i'm stupid af lol)

[absurdthirst]

Mother's Day Surprise {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: Menstrual blood/cramping, violent attack, near death, surgery, comma, mentions of blood and disturbing scenes, recovery, assistance with basic needs, helping Joel shower, confessions of feelings, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, mentions of family planning, breeding kink, dirty talk, cream pie, infertility, depression, feelings of worthlessness, death, harsh and cruel world, babies

Comments: Helping Joel Miller recover from a horrific attack leads to a life you never knew possible.

**🚨🚨 Contains spoilers for Season 2 of The Last of Us🚨🚨**

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all those lovely moms out there and anyone wishing to become one in the future. Being a mom doesn't necessarily mean biologically. 💜

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You grunt, squinting as you struggle to see in the dark. It's the middle of the night, the sun not yet peeking through the curtains, and you wonder why you woke up until your stomach twists and you realize you're wet between your thighs. "No. No. No. No." You cry, tears in your eyes as you scramble out of bed and rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You shove your shorts down and sob at the blood that's gathered there. You got your period. Again. You sit down on the toilet and gather some paper to clean yourself up while you try to smother your cries but there's a knock at the door and Joel's voice  resonates through it, "are you okay, sweetheart?" He asks and you choke out, "the bed." Joel walks over to turn the lamp on, his eyes widening at the blood on the sheets. "Oh sweetheart." He sighs, resting his forehead against the door frame. "I'm sorry, baby. I - I am useless." You sob and he rattles the door handle, "let me in." He demands and you flush the toilet, washing your hands before you open the door. Joel immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "We will try again." He promises, "I didn't give up when I was recovering and we won't give up now." He assures you while you sob into his chest.

He sighs, not even going to deny his own disappointment, although people who used to know him in the Boston QZ would never believe it. Joel Miller, disappointed that you aren’t pregnant. The very obvious sign of his seed not taking root staining the sheets of the bed you share. He shouldn’t want a child. He’s closer to fucking sixty years old than not, just a few years shy and yet he finds himself wanting to see you round with his child. His second child by blood, his third in his heart. Ellie is staying with Dina tonight, so he doesn’t have to worry about waking her up as your sobs wrack your body. “You aren’t useless.” He soothes, frowning when he remembers your emotional words. Standing in the bathroom, he wishes there was something that he could do, fertility doctors from twenty plus years ago were a thing of the past. Most people do not want to bring children into this fungi infested world, but here in Jackson, he has hope for the future. Hope for a chance to pass on a legacy.

You cling to him, knowing he's disappointed. Lord knows you've been trying enough but you just can't seem to get pregnant. It's like you are cursed and you wonder if Joel's injuries hurt your chances.

****

You gasp when you look up to see a mangled man carried into the hospital. You set your cup of coffee down and stand up, the resident doctor rushing around to try and stop the bleeding. "What the hell?" You ask and a teenage girl is clinging to his hand as the team try to wheel him into the surgery room. "Joel. Joel. Don't leave me." She pleads, tears in her eyes, and you reach for her. "He's in good hands, sweetheart. Come here. Let the doctor work." You manage to drag her away and she wraps her arms around you and sobs, "I didn't know - she nearly - they nearly- it's all my fault." She chokes and you rub her back, frowning at the doors where the man disappeared.

Hours later, the door swings open and the doctor comes back through, his work scrubs stained with blood. Ellie had been impatiently sitting and leaps out of her seat. “Is he alive? Where is he? I want to see him.” She demands, making the doctor lift his hands slightly. “He’s alive.” He reassures her, making her tense shoulders slump with relief and tears prick her eyes. “There was massive trauma to the head, and-“ Ellie interrupts him. “Of course there is, that bitch tried to beat him to death with a fucking golf club.”

Your eyes widen at the news that he was nearly beaten to death. You wrap your arm around Ellie’s shoulder. She had rambled about how Joel saved her, how much she loves him, how he’s the father she never had. Her words made your heart melt and you silently prayed he pulled through. “It’s going to be a long road to recovery. For now, we will monitor him and see if he pulls through the night. It’s touch and go still.” The doctor warns Ellie who nods, “he will pull through. Joel is a stubborn fucker.” You chuckle and rub her upper arm, “let’s get you something to eat and a shower and we can come back when he’s settled in a room.” You suggest and she’s reluctant to leave but the doctor nods, “he’s unconscious. Will be for a few days at least. His body needs rest. Go get some food and he will be waiting for you.” Ellie nods and lets you guide her to your house. Her home needs to be cleaned up and you don’t want her to see the aftermath of the battle that occurred in her home.

Joel had put up a fight. Furniture is broken, the mirror in the hallway - one he had grumbled about every day when it showed him how old he is - is shattered. Shards of glass and spurts of blood splash the walls. Ellie grimaces and stops at the blood stain on the floor right by the open front door. Obviously no one had cared about closing up the house when rushing Joel off to the hospital. “Right.” She sighs, turning when she hears someone running towards her. “Ellie! Fuck, is Joel alright?” Breathless, Tommy stops in front of the teenager and his face almost begs her to tell him that his older brother is okay. “I tracked her, but she got away.” He explains; that being the reason he wasn’t at the hospital earlier. “She went to the river and I couldn’t track her from there.” 

Ellie straightens her back, shaking her head, “that fucking bitch.” She growls and you answer Tommy’s question. “Joel had surgery. He’s unconscious right now. Still in the air as to him waking up without brain damage. The doctor did the best he could but it…it was bad.” You admit and Tommy closes his eyes, needing to see his brother. “I need to see him.” He says and you nod, “he’s unconscious still. I’m going to get Ellie changed and get her something to eat.” You tell Tommy who reaches out to squeeze Ellie’s shoulder. “Get something to eat, kid. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Tommy promises and Ellie doesn’t say anything else, going quiet. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

You nod, “go clean up. I’ll get started on trying to clean this up.” You tell her and she makes her way upstairs. You sigh, looking over at the pool of blood and you feel sick. You’ve always had a crush on the older Miller brother since he arrived at Jackson, but you’re certain he doesn’t even know you exist. 

****

You check Joel’s pulse, his eyes moving beneath his eyelids. He’s still unconscious, has been for a few days, and the hospital isn’t equipped with equipment to test brain function. All you can do is watch and wait to see if he will wake up.

Joel hurts, every inch of his body hurts and it feels like he’s trying to move mountains just to open his eyes. Fingers twitching and he opens his mouth, groaning quietly.

You gasp when you hear him groan, watching his eyes flutter, and you let go of his wrist, calling for the doctor. The doctor comes in and you gesture to Joel, “he is waking up.” The doctor nods, checking Joel over, his bandages wrapped around his head, and they had to shave his head to perform the surgery. You wonder if he will be angry about losing his hair. Ellie is in the waiting room so you head out to see her. “He’s awake.” You tell her and she stands up, “he is. I want to see him.” You shake your head, “the doctor is checking him over. Let’s give them some time.”

It takes a long time to understand what the doctors are telling him, frowning in confusion and wondering why his head feels like it’s been squashed like a grape. Moving is slower and he hisses in pain when he learns that his ribs have been broken and his leg is also fractured. Opening his mouth, it’s hard to get a word out. “E-E-El-Ellie.” He manages, needing to see her.

The doctor nods, “she’s okay.” You escort Ellie into the room, wanting her to see her father is awake, and she rushes over to the bed. “Joel. Joel. I’m sorry.” Ellie chokes, reaching for his hand. He groans as he squeezes her hand, silently assured that she’s okay.” You watch their reunion with tears in your eyes from the doorway.

“D-d-don’t bl-ame y-your-self.” Joel rasps out, still fuzzy on what happened. He doesn’t remember anything much before waking up in the hospital. Although he gets the sense he was angry- desperate. He groans in pain when she lunges forward to hug him, but he doesn’t push her away. 

You watch Ellie hug him and you know in that moment you’ll do whatever you can do to make sure Joel gets better. Ellie pulls back after several moments and the doctor checks Joel’s vitals. “He needs some more time here so we can observe him.” Ellie nods at the doctor’s words and you walk over to rub her back.

“I’m going be honest, Mr. Miller,” the doctor tells him as he pulls back. “I am surprised that you even woke up. There was significant bleeding and swelling of the brain. Tests seem positive but there could be damage that hasn’t manifested itself yet.” He tells Joel. “It’s going to be a long road to recovery for you.”

Joel doesn’t say anything. He was nearly murdered. He knows he shouldn’t be alive right now. Ellie sniffs as she steps back and Joel attempts to squeeze her hand. The doctor grabs his clipboard and looks at Joel’s recent vitals. “Waking up was half the struggle. Let’s monitor you and go from there.” The doctor says, “and we will keep running tests.” Joel grunts out an “okay” and you offer him a smile, “you’re a fighter just like Ellie said. She’s lucky to have you.”

You’re familiar to him, he can’t place it, but his thoughts are still fuzzy and jumbled. “How- how long have I been here?” He asks after a moment. “Three days.” Ellie answers and he frowns. “Who- where have you been sleeping?”

Ellie says your name, “I have been staying in her house. She has been cleaning our house because there was too much blood and - and it was a mess.” Ellie reveals and Joel’s eyes are hazy as they meet yours, silently saying goodbye thank you and you nod in response. “Just focus on getting better, Ellie and I are enjoying some girl time.” You tease, winking at Ellie who chuckles.

****

Joel stays in hospital for two weeks and you look after Ellie, preparing his home for his return, and when the doctor declares him fit to leave, he says that he needs someone to look after him. He still can’t shower by himself, he needs help eating and he struggles to walk alone. It’s going to be a long recovery for Joel. “I can help,” Ellie says without hesitation as Joel sits on the edge of the bed.

“You can’t help me do everything.” Joel grunts, knowing that he could never allow the teenage girl to help him shower or get to fucking bathroom. “I- Tommy-“ his brother has been by to visit every day, and he’s talked to him about taking Ellie. He doesn’t know how he will manage, but he also knows he can’t burden Maria and their baby with his convalesce.

“Tommy is out of town on a scouting mission.” Ellie says, knowing Joel’s brother was set on revenge for his brother’s condition. He just had to track Abby down. “I can help.” You volunteer, feeling close to him despite not having a full conversation with him. Spending time with Ellie, hearing her stories about Joel and his bravery had made you fond of him. “I can help him at home.” You offer and the doctor looks to Joel for his answer.

His eyes slide to you, unsure why you would volunteer to help him, but the doctor immediately nods. “That would be a good idea.” He agrees. “You can check his bandages and make sure that he doesn’t get an infection.” He smiles at the three of you like it’s a done deal and Joel frowns slightly, not sure if he likes the idea of you helping him.

You nod, noticing Ellie’s grateful smile, and you look at Joel, “it’s for the best. I can monitor your health and help you. I’m a nurse. It’s a medical decision.” You tell him and he grunts, knowing he doesn’t have a choice. He’s discharged and you wheel him to the doctor’s truck, knowing Joel won’t be able to walk home. You arrive outside of the house and Joel grunts, “I can walk.” He doesn’t want a wheelchair so you let him wrap his arm around you to guide him into the house. “Take your time.” You reassure him, “no need to rush.”

The shuffle is slow and painful, making him huff in irritation that he can’t move like he would want to. Even as he’s gotten older and been slower, he’s been able to move how he wanted to. Now, in a cast and recovering from nearly dying, he needs help. Ellie jumps forward to open the door and he’s glad to see that the scene that had been left from the attack you told him about has been cleaned away. He will have to thank you for that. “Fuck.” He pants, out of breath and in pain just because of the short walk from the truck to the house. “I don’t know how the fuck I’m getting upstairs.”

“We moved a bed downstairs.” You tell him, “you won’t be going upstairs for a while.” You escort him into the living room and help him settle down on the bed. He’s only wearing socks so he groans as he sits down and you help him lay on the bed. “You need to rest as much as possible. Let me get you some water. Are you hungry?” You ask, helping him settle against the pillows.

“Can you cook better than the shit they served at the hospital?” He grumbles, having not enjoyed the food there. He’s relieved to be home and his head hurts a little bit less today than before. He’s got a plate covering the fractured portion of his skull and they actually had to remove a large chunk of the bone.

You chuckle, “I like to think so. I’m glad your appetite is back. What do you feel like? I make a mean mac and cheese.” You adjust his pillow and Ellie comes to sit down next to him. “She’s a really good cook. Like really good. I’ve been helping make cheese and we even made a cake.” She tells Joel with wide eyes, shocked at how this place is like life in books she read.

“Sure.” Joel agrees, the little fissure of pain at the mention of a cake isn’t as rough as it might once have been. The last night she had been alive, Sarah had wanted a cake desperately for Joel’s birthday. “Make something the kid likes.” He suggests. “I eat anything.”

You smile, liking how he caters to Ellie, and you know that Ellie told the truth about the man she considers a father. “What do you want, sweetheart?” You ask her and she nods, “Mac and cheese.” You ask if she wants to help you while Joel gets settled in and Ellie follows you into the kitchen so you can get started on the food and you pour Joel a glass of water. “You want to take this to Joel?” You ask Ellie who takes the glass and takes it to her father figure.

Joel listens to the sound of people talking in the kitchen and it’s so strange. He can’t make out what’s being said, but he can hear voices. It’s almost unsettling that there is someone else in the safe, cozy home that he and Ellie have managed to carve out for themselves. Tommy told him that Abby, the girl who had attacked him, was the daughter of the doctor he had killed to save Ellie. His past sins were coming back to haunt him, but he doesn’t regret not letting the teen sacrifice herself for a lost cause.

Ellie comes back out to hand Joel the glass of water and he takes it, taking a sip. “Thanks, kid.” He says and she sits down at the edge of his bed. “I- I thought I was gonna lose you.” She whispers, her brown eyes meeting his, “I was scared.” She admits and Joel feels his chest tighten, tears stinging in his eyes. “But you didn’t. I survived and I ain’t going anywhere, kid.” He promises, reaching out to squeeze her hand with his free one. “She been looking after you?” He asks her, jerking his chin towards the kitchen. “Yeah. She’s been great. She cleaned this place up. Made sure I ate and showered and slept while worrying like fuck about you. She’s a good one.” Ellie says and Joel trusts her opinion. You hear what Ellie says from around the corner, some homemade chips in a bowl in your hand and you smile, liking that she trusts you. You carry the bowl in and set it down , “hope these are good. We fried them earlier today.” You say, looking between Ellie and Joel.

Joel’s brow raises and he nods. “Thanks.” It hurts to nod so he just sends you his thanks with his eyes. “For taking care of her and me now, I guess.” He sips the water and grunts when the cool liquid slides down his throat to quench his thirst. “I’m sorry for all the cursing I will be doing.” He warns you, knowing he’s never been a good patient.

You chuckle, “curse away. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” You promise and make your way back into the kitchen to continue making dinner. It’s going to be a long path of recovery but you’re happy to help Joel get back on his feet. 

****

“Shit.” Joel hisses as you help him into the downstairs bathroom to shower. “Do you, uh, I can help take off your pants.” You offer, cheeks burning as you try and help him shower for the first time since he left the hospital.

Joel isn’t a shy man, never has been, but the idea that you have to help him bathe like he is a helpless baby makes him burn with embarrassment. There’s not a goddamn thing he can do about it though, his body is still healing and he can’t get his head wet because of the stitches and staples. “Fuck.” He grunt, hoping he doesn’t really embarrass himself. The fact that he’s not gotten an erection since he’s woken up makes him wonder if something is wrong with that function. “Fuck, what the hell else am I going to do? Shower with my fuckin’ clothes on?”

You shake your head, “no. I- I have to help. I’m a nurse. I am a professional.” You tell him even though that doesn’t hold much weight in today’s world. “Let me help you.” You reach in to turn on the water to heat it up and you reach for Joel’s shirt. “Keep still.” You murmur, working the buttons open. He probably prefers t-shirts but the button down is required so he doesn’t jostle his head. He is still weak so he lets you push the shirt off of his shoulders. “Pants next.” You declare and hook your fingers in the sweatpants, dragging them down his legs  and he’s naked under them so it's easier for him to use the bathroom. He steps out of them and you try not to appraise his naked form. He’s still healing but he’s gorgeous.

“Sorry.” He huffs, knowing that the last thing you want to do is to help an old man bathe, his still bruised body on display. Luckily, there were still medical supply devices like a chair to sit in the shower to make it easier for him, although he knows you will get wet helping him. His dormant cock twitches slightly and his eyes widen at the sensation.

You focus on looking after him and not on his body, which even though bruised, is still beautiful. You know your clothes will get soaked but that’s okay, you don’t want to strip off and make him uncomfortable so you step into the shower and help him sit down on the chair. “Temperature okay?” You ask and he nods. You grab the soap you made last week and hold it out. “You want to do it or shall I?” You ask, knowing you’ll need to wash his face so he doesn’t get his head wet.

He hates to admit that he’s so damn tired after getting into the shower, he just wants you to do it. Grunting, he shakes his head slightly and winces when he feels a little pain. “Just do it.” He tells you, not wanting this to become some kind of pissing match. “Feel like a damn baby.”

You nod, “I understand but this is the best thing for you, honey. You need to focus on healing. You nearly died so being showered isn’t the worst thing in the world.” You put it in perspective for him. You lather up your hands and work on washing his back. He groans and your stomach twists with forbidden arousal. He’s injured, recovering, you shouldn’t feel attracted to him.

“Does it hurt?” Your soft question is almost arousing, murmuring in his ear but he grunts. “No.” His voice comes out raspy and raw. “Feels good.” He’s still so damn sore and your hands on his skin feels like a massage. “It’s feeling really good.”

You continue working on washing him, mindful of his bruises. “Good.” You murmur, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” You say as you massage the soap into his black and blue back. “Tommy tried to find them but they were gone.” You reveal, “they are gone.”

“It’s my fault.” Joel murmurs quietly, closing his eyes and trying to forget the moment he had killed that doctor, but it plays behind his lids. “How could you deserve something like this?” You snort, but he sighs softly. “I killed her father.” He reveals. “He was a doctor, for the Fireflies. They believed Ellie was the answer to a cure.” He opens his eyes, frowning. “They were going to remove her brain.”

You gasp, your hands freezing on his back. "They - does she know?" You whisper and Joel shakes his head. "She can't." You declare, having gotten to know Ellie enough to know that she would sacrifice herself. He nods, "I can't - I lied to her. I can't lose her." He confesses and you rub his back, "you won't. Secret's safe with me." You promise, "you didn't deserve this, Joel. No one does. This world...it's cruel but we have our little piece of paradise here. We just gotta protect it."

Even though he knows it would never absolve him of his sins, your words are a balm to his spirit. Soothing him and making him relax even more. “It’s nice here.” He murmurs softly. “Sarah would love it here.”

Ellie had briefly discussed the daughter that Joel lost on Outbreak Day and you rub his shoulders, “we are lucky. Not QZ, not the Wild West. We are safe and our commune is thriving.” You hum, “Ellie is lucky to have you.” You murmur and he hisses when you press a little too hard, “I’m sorry.” You grab the rag and lather it up, “you, uh, want to wash your -” Your cheeks heat up at the thought and he takes the rag without a word.

Joel washes his groin quickly, gritting his teeth when his long neglected cock starts to stir from the simple touch and the smell of your soap. He has noticed it every time he gets your help to use the bathroom and he is now covered in it. “Help me.” He grunts, trying to push to his feet so he can wash his ass.

You wrap your arms under his armpits, helping him stand and he grunts as he washes his ass. When he’s done, you rinse him off and shut off the water, grabbing the towel around his waist. “You good?” You ask and he nods, “yeah. Just feel like a fucking baby.” You chuckle, “at least you don’t need breastfeeding.”

“Fuck.” He huffs and blurts out, “that would be more fun,” before he even realizes how inappropriate it would be. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He grunts, blushing slightly.

You snort and smile, “I think we are beyond apologies now, huh?” You say, knowing you’ve helped him to the bathroom and now helped him shower. “Let’s get you redressed and I’ll heat up the soup I made earlier for you.” You tell him and grab the clean clothes you set aside for him.

His bedroom is what used to be the downstairs office. It’s got some doors for privacy, but more often than not, they are kept open until he needs to change. It makes it easier. “I didn’t ask, how do you like that bed?” His bedroom upstairs had become yours since they had broken down the smaller bed from the third bedroom. Joel wouldn’t let you sleep on the couch, telling you he could piss in a bottle in the middle of the night if he needed to. You deserved to sleep in a real bed for helping him.

“It’s good. Nice and comfy. I have no complaints.” You tell him, knowing your roommate, Sandra, will be enjoying the peace and quiet on her own in your house. “I hope it’s comfortable here.” You help him pull the shirt over his head and you kneel down so he can  step into the sweatpants.

“It’s a bed.” He’s going to be uncomfortable regardless of where he is because of how badly he had been beaten. The only reason he’s alive is because she had started swinging on other parts of his body besides the head. “I think I’ll appreciate it more when I can move without wanting to cry.”

“Not too long now. You’ve overcome the worst. You’ll get there in the end.” You promise him, “you’ll get better. Ellie needs you.” You pull the sweatpants up and stand up, patting his chest. “All clean.” You smile and guide him to sit on the bed. You swing his legs onto the bed and stand up, “I’ll go get your soup, Miller.”

He watches you go, his eyes dropping down to your ass, not for the first time either. This time though, there is a punch of lust that his body responds to. Making him grunt and reach down to adjust himself slightly. You are beautiful and now that he has spent time with you, he can see why Tommy called him a lucky bastard.

****

You spend eight weeks looking after Joel. Helping him bathe until he can manage himself, feeding him, making sure he has water. It’s your priority and you are so happy he’s recovering well. He can walk properly now and the bruises have faded. “You want some cake?” You ask Joel as he walks into the kitchen where Ellie is trying to lick the spoon of the jam you made to go in the sponge cake.

“God, yes.” Joel groans, the irony of cake not being lost on him. You have been positively spoiling him and Ellie and he hates to think about when you will leave. He’s getting better and it’s about time you go back to your own life. “Are we doing a shower tonight?” The stitches are out, but he still has staples and needs help in the shower.

You nod, “yes, sir. Gotta make sure you avoid a nasty infection. We don’t have any oral antibiotics left.” You sigh, knowing that even if someone found some, they’d be expired. You and Ellie put the cake together and you cut out a slice for each of you. Setting the plate down in front of Joel, you love the way he smiles at you. It’s been impossible to keep your affection for him at bay. You’ve fallen for him, knowing that you will have to return home at some point but the grumpy yet funny man has gotten into your heart.

“Thanks.” He sends you a grateful look and sets his elbows on the table as he waits for you to sit down. “It smells incredible. You seem to enjoy cooking, or is it just something you do because you know Ellie can’t?” He teases, making the teenager huff and roll her eyes. “It’s not like I’ve had a chance to learn, man.”

You giggle and nudge Ellie, “you’ve been learning. You’ll get there. No, I, uh, I love cooking. Always have.” You admit, “I missed it a lot when I was on the outside. Cooking rabbit on a fire isn’t quite the same as cooking in a warm kitchen.” You sigh, forking up a bite of the cake.

“Yeah, campfires are temperamental, and cooking on them is even worse.” He snorts. Ellie chuckles. “When you would let us have them.” Joel shrugs slightly. “It’s dangerous out there.” He reminds her. “Hell, it’s dangerous in here too, but it’s better than out there.” He glances towards the entryway where he had collapsed when Abby nearly beat him to death.

You notice his glance and you realize once again how close to death he was. “You’re here now. Hopefully you don’t have to go back out there anytime soon.” You reach out to squeeze Joel’s hand and he smiles at you, his fork in his other hand, “you are safe for now.”

You have been incredible, and it’s almost amazing to see how you have slipped past the shell of his heart, something that only Ellie has managed since Tess. It’s hard to believe Tess has been gone as long as she has, but Joel has been slowly trying to heal emotionally as he heals physically. Thoughts of you have crept into his waking hours, causing some embarrassing moments in the showers when he gets hard, or you wake him up from an erotic dream that features you.

****

“So, the doctor gave you the all clear. Just to be careful and not do too much.” You smile at Joel as you enter the living room after the doctor left. He had done a full assessment of Joel and called his surgery a miracle - the fact that he survived is a gift from God. Ellie is out visiting Dina and you sit down next to Joel on the sofa, “I guess I can get out of your hair now. You can have your bed back and I’ll go back to my place.” You finish softly, sad to be leaving him.

Joel wipes his hands on his sweatpants, still wearing them out of habit over the past few months. “You’re probably happy as hell to be getting away.” He snorts as he looks over at you and wonders how you have become even prettier than before. He’s crazy about you, how kind you are, how you have taken Ellie under your wing and how you never rebuke him for when he gets sad and introspective. You have helped so much and he hates that you are leaving. “Maybe I need to get the shit beat out of me again, make you stick around.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No need to do that. All you have to do is ask me to stay and I would." You confess and your eyes widen at the way you blurted that out. You close your mouth, turning your head to stare across the room, avoiding those dark brown eyes. "I'm sorry. I-" You begin but he interrupts you. "Stay." You turn your head to look at him again, "what? You - you want me to stay?" You ask, feeling breathless.

He rolls his eyes at your question and huffs. “Do you think that I’m getting hard every time you help me shower because getting clean turns me on?” He asks bluntly. “I’ve been trying to think about anything else but you, but nothing works.”

You stare at him in shock, “I- I can’t believe - I just thought you were horny because you couldn’t jerk off.” You snort and close your eyes for a second. “I think about you. All the time.” You admit, reaching for his hand, “I had a crush on you before I came to help.” You tell him honestly, “always thought you were handsome, but now that I know you? You’re - fuck, I love you.” You confess just as breathless as your prior revelation.

His own breath stops, caught in his chest as you confess your feelings. A year ago, hell - a few months ago, he would have been denying that you felt that way. Ignoring it or being unable to respond in kind because his world was still ground to a halt, but that had changed. You and Ellie, that attack, it had changed things and made him realize that even though he had lost so many, he still had those to live for. He lunges forward and presses his lips to yours. “Love you too.” He murmurs as you gasp.

You can’t believe he’s kissing you but you reach up to cup his cheek, pressing your lips back to his, and your heart is pounding in your chest. You shift closer, cupping his other cheek and you rest your forehead against his when you pull back, caressing his stubbled cheeks. “I love you, Miller.” You smile, unable to fathom that the man you’ve fallen for loves you too.

He's panting and his heart is beating wildly in his chest. Already turned on again and starting to tent his sweats and all you've done is shared one kiss. Reaching up, he caresses your neck and shoulder. "Are you sure? I'm fuckin' old, baby." He jokes. "And a little decrepit."

You shake your head, "you're not decrepit. Or too old. I love you, Joel. No matter what. Hell, if I can look after you like I have and still think you are sexy, you're good to go." You promise with a giggle, sliding your hands down to his chest. "And I haven't stopped thinking about you between my thighs. Inside of me." You confess in a hushed tone.

The kid is off with her friend and Joel groans quietly, having thought of nothing else for the past few days. "I don't know if I can perform worth a shit." He admits with a shake of his head. "Haven't cum since I woke up."

"I don't care. Just want to be close to you." You murmur, "don't care if you cum right away. I can ride you." You want to be close to him, to feel all of him. "I keep thinking about how you'd feel inside of me."

He's still in his downstairs bedroom and he nudges his nose against yours. "Close the doors." He rasps out, nodding towards the French doors that close off his makeshift space. "I don't want to tire myself out trying to get upstairs."

You stand up, hands shaky as you shut the doors and turn to face him. You take in the details of his face, his head shaved from his surgery so his hair is growing back patchy but he’s still so attractive. You reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and you swiftly remove your bra. Hooking your fingers in your leggings, you push them down along with your panties to stand naked in front of him. “I’ve seen yours, figured it’s only fair if you see mine.”

"It gets bigger." He jokes, aware that you have seen and politely ignored the times he's gotten hard from you helping him in the shower. "Fuck, you are beautiful." He praises breathlessly, eyes drinking in your body as he licks his lips. It's been a long goddamn time since he's been with someone, the last person was Tess, but he feels like he's about to bust if he doesn't touch you.

“So are you.” You respond as you walk towards him. “So brave. A fucking fighter.” You murmur, shifting to straddle him as he sits back on the bed. His hands immediately find your ass and you chuckle, knowing he’s watched it enough times. You cup his cheeks and lean in to kiss him, “wanna see if it gets bigger.” You joke, grinding down onto the tent in his sweats.

Joel groans, twitching underneath you and he knows he won’t have any problem performing. The problem might be that he doesn’t please you before he cums. His hand slides around your waist to dip between your thighs. Hissing when he finds you starting to get slick as he starts to slowly rub your clit.

“Oh God.” You pant, rocking down onto his hand. It’s been far too long since anyone touched you and you are whimpering at the way his thick fingers rub your bundle of nerves. You tilt your head back and he leans in to kiss along your neck, your fingers digging into his shoulder as you absorb every touch.

He groans as he learns your body. He and Tess had been comfortable, completely familiar with each other and what the other liked. The whimpers and groans rockets his arousal higher as you grind down against his fingers and he feels like he’s going to bust in his sweats. Turning his wrist, he presses his thumb against your clit and slides his fingers through your slick folds so he can press them inside you.

“I want to touch you.” You whimper and he shakes his head, “not yet. Otherwise this will be over sooner than you thought.” He grunts and you rock onto his thick fingers, stretching you out in the most delicious way. “Fuckkkk.” You exhale as he presses his finger against that spongy spot inside of you. He’s good. He knows what he’s doing.

He loves the way you respond to him, how wet you get. Sliding his hand up and down your back as he kisses along your shoulder and down to your tit. Wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your wet heat.

“Shit.” You hiss, caressing his head as he suckles on your nipple like he’s trying to root. It has you quivering and you’re so close. So many nights of imagining how he’d touch you has led to you getting worked up faster than you have ever known. “Joel. Oh God, Joel. You’re gonna make me - I’m gonna-” You don’t finish your cry as you cut yourself off with a strangler choke and clamp down on his digits, soaking them with your cum.

“That’s it, fuck, good girl.” Joel pants against your breast as he pumps his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm. “You’re so goddamn good to me, ain’t ya? You creamin’ all over my fingers, making me harder than a fucking rock.” He coos praises into your skin, enjoying the way your nails bite into his shoulder through the shirt. Your pretty cunt soaked his fingers and he can only imagine how good you will feel around his cock.

His words make you choke on your breath as he works you through your orgasm. You never imagined he’d be so dirty but you love it. “Fuck, baby. Yes. I need - I need you inside of me but I want to suck your cock.” You whine, reaching down to tug on the hem of his shirt, wanting him naked beneath you.

“You can’t.” Joel moans, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t last a minute. And I want to feel you, fuck, imagined it so many times.” He pants, pulling away from the back of the bed so you can pull his shirt off. “Maybe- later, if I can get it up again.” He chuckles.

You pull his shirt over his head, still mindful of his injuries, and you slide your hands down his chest, admiring his broadness. “You’re so sexy.” You murmur, reaching down to pull his cock out of his sweatpants, wanting to see him in this light. You’ve seen his cock plenty of times but now you know he’s hard for you and it’s intoxicating. You pump him and he groans out a warning so you shift to lift your hips, positioning him at your entrance and you slowly sink down onto him.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” His hands grip your hips harshly and he clenches his jaw as you take him. You are hot and tight like a glove around his cock, clenching around him as your walls flutter. Your ass presses against his thighs and he rocks his hips up. “Fuck, that’s - fuck, gimme a minute.” He begs, feeling like he’s about to cum. “Let me- calm down.”

You nod, stilling on top of him, and you caress his chest. He exhales shakily and you lean in to kiss him, “take your time, baby. I’m in no rush.” You promise and kiss along his jaw, loving how he stretches you out.

It’s been so long since he’s felt this close to anyone, your breath blows against his skin and he shivers. Closing his eyes as he holds you still. “Fuck, I love you.” He murmurs quietly, aware that this is something that he shouldn’t even have, he should have died. But he’s here and he’s going to live for the moment and bask in the forgiveness of your touch.

You close your eyes at his words, loving how he caresses you, and you tilt your head to look at him. “I love you too. You’re so much more than you think you are.” You murmur, caressing his cheek, and you experimentally rock your hips. His groan makes your stomach clench and you rock again, starting slow as he moves inside of you.

“Shit.” He hisses quietly, opening his eyes to watch as you start to move. “You’re so pretty, so fuckin’ pretty.” He promises as he starts to slide his hands up and down your back. “You feel so good, does it feel good for you?”

His words make your heart pound in your chest and you nod, “feels so good. You feel so damn big inside of me.” You confess breathlessly, “stretching me out. It’s been so long since I had sex. You need to- to pull out so tell me if you’re close.” You remind him, not wanting an accidental pregnancy right now.

Joel grunts, looking into your eyes as he nods. “I will.” He promises. Safe sex isn’t really a thing to be had but hopefully there’s not something to come of this. You are right to remind him. “I’m good baby, ride me.”

You take his word and start to move faster. Your hands gripping his shoulders as you start to move on top of him, moaning at the way he twitches inside of you. "Fuck, you feel so good." You pant, chest heaving as his cock curves just right inside of you.

Joel grunts and leans forward to press his lips to yours, biting your bottom lip after he kisses you. Your breasts brush against his chest and he pulls you closer, craving the feel of your skin against his.

You moan into his mouth, loving how strong her feels, how he’s recovered and he’s stronger for it mentally. You rock down onto his cock, loving the way he twitches inside of you, and you are getting close. Just the feel of having the man you love inside of you is pushing you higher. “Oh shit.” You whimper when you find the right spot and you reach down to rub your clit, pushing yourself closer to the edge.

“That’s it pretty girl, making yourself cum.” Joel groans, watching you touch yourself with dark eyes. It’s so sexy and he can’t get enough of it. “Make yourself cum on my cock. I want to feel it, see it. Show me what you look like.”

You nod, mouth open as you work yourself higher until you finally fall over the edge. A cry escapes your lips as you cum, moaning his name and you clamp down on his cock, soaking him while your orgasm rocks through you.

His eyes roll back in pleasure as he feels you squeezing him and he knows he will be cumming any second. “Sweethea-rt, you gotta-“ he grits his teeth as he jerks your body up off his cock so he can keep his promise to you, panting as he spurts all over his stomach and chest.

You watch him as he cums and you love it. The way he looks is intoxicating and you lean in to kiss him. “Fuck, I love you.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss him as he pants your name.

He kisses you back eagerly, reaching for his shirt to wipe away the mess so you can lean against him. “Fuck, that was- I can’t even-“ he chuckles quietly and kisses you again. “What do you think about moving in permanently?”

You smile as he looks at you, his dark eyes soft, and you cup his cheeks. “Yes. Absolutely.” Your smile turns into a grin, excited to explore this next step with Joel. “I was dreading going home and I would miss you and Ellie like crazy.” You confess, “I want to stay.”

“Good.” He pauses for a moment and then he admits, “it’s felt like a proper home with you here. Ellie, she loves you too.” He tells you softly. “I think she imagines we are a family.”

“I imagine that too. She’s like a daughter to me.” You confess, “I want to make this a home and I want to be yours. Be in your bed every night. Be by your side no matter what.” You promise and Joel smiles, cupping your cheek, “sounds amazing, baby.”

****

“Joel.” You say his name as he takes a sip of whiskey. Ellie is watching a movie with the other kids in the barn and you decided to cook a romantic dinner for Joel, wanting to ask him something. He looks at you and you tilt your head, appraising him. You pick up your glass and take a sip, your throat suddenly dry. “Everything okay, baby?” He asks and you nod, squaring your shoulders. “I want a baby.” You announce, bracing yourself for him to say no.

Joel freezes, waiting for the familiar ache to take over his chest. For this vision to blur and his breathing to turn into short bursts as thoughts of Sarah take over. As the sounds of her rapid, panicked last breaths fill his ears. It never comes. 

He doesn’t panic at the thought of having a child that could remind him of Sarah. Ellie does in some ways, but she’s a completely different type of girl. One raised in the world outside the safety of the walls of Jackson. If you had a child here, they would be innocent in some ways Ellie was not, more like Sarah. “A baby, huh?” He murmurs after a moment. “With me?” He asks. “I’m nearly sixty, baby. You want that?”

You sense his hesitation and you feel like backtracking but you think about the nights you’ve spent awake pondering this, weighing the pros and cons of having his baby in this world. You reach for his hand, “I know and I still want it. Spending time with Ellie, helping with your nephew, it’s made me realize that I can do it. It’s hard, always hard being a mother, but I’m ready and I want a baby. I want a baby that will carry our legacy, a baby that will grow up safe and capable. We will make sure of it. Unless you don’t want that, which is - it’s fine. I’ll handle your decision. We both have to want this, Joel. Not just me. Don’t do it for me. I want you to want this too and if you don’t, then that’s case closed.” You promise, not wanting to pressure him.

Joel squeezes your hand gently, reminded of the nights he had woken in a cold sweat, sometimes from the broken memories of him being attacked or the memory of losing Sarah. You have been right beside him, offering him comfort and solace. He’s told you about that night, sharing with you memories that he has kept bottled for over twenty years. You had cried in his arms like you had been Sarah’s mother, assuring him that he had done everything right to try to protect his baby girl. The fact that he’s not immediately said no is very insightful and he bites his lip and watches you with a softness that even a year ago, he was unsure he was capable of. “It’s been a looooong time since 2 AM feedings and my hearing is shot.” He snorts, smiling slightly. “You’ll have to poke me to wake me up if you want me to get up with a baby.”

You smile, loving the way he has agreed to having a baby with you. “You’re forgetting the best part about deciding to have a baby….” You trail off and smirk, “the trying.” He returns your smirk and you giggle, standing up from your seat and you round the table to sit in his lap. “I love you.” You murmur when you’re settled in his lap, reaching up to caress his cheek. “I want you to fuck a baby into me, Joel.”

“Fuck, that’s hotter than I ever imagined.” Joel grunts, twitching underneath you. His sex drive isn’t completely on par with yours, but he keeps up and keeps you satisfied in other ways. You’ve told him you don’t regret being with him at all. Which is another balm on his battered soul. “You want me to cum in that pretty pussy?” He asks, squeezing your ass. “Imagined how you would look dripping me a few times.”

You moan, kissing along his jaw as his words wash over you. “I want you to cum inside of me. Put a baby in me.” You plead, wiggling on his lap. His hair has grown back now, more gray in it, but you love it, and you reach up to run your fingers through his hair.

He groans and captures your lips with his, licking into your mouth immediately as the easy passion blooms between you. His hands move to start stripping you down.

It doesn’t take long for you and Joel to be naked. You stumbled up the stairs to your bedroom, clothes scattered on the trail upstairs and when you lay down on the bed, Joel is immediately hovering over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest and his hand slides along your thigh, cupping your pussy. “I don’t want foreplay. I just want you. Want to feel all of you.” You murmur, caressing his shoulders.

There are times when you want the burn of his cock stretching you out and tonight is one of those nights it seems. That’s good because Joel is impatient to get inside you. He takes his cock in hand and pumps it a few times as he shuffles forward to press against your entrance. “I love you.” He murmurs.

He pushes inside of you, stretching you out, and you gasp out “love you too.” He pushes inside of you until he’s fully seated and you take a deep breath, enjoying the weight of his body on top of yours and the weight of the moment. Deciding to take this step together has your body primed and ready for him. He starts to move inside of you and you wrap your legs around his waist, moaning at the way he rocks into you.

Nearly dying hadn’t had the lasting effects that the doctors had feared when Joel had been brought in. His thrusts are steady, if not a little harder than normal, although he keeps the pace sedate. Not rushing, but he enjoys burying himself as deep as he can go and watching your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Gonna knock you up.” He grunts out.

His words make you clench around him, your hands sliding down his back to squeeze his ass. His recovery has been a miracle from the man who was on death's door to the man currently making love to you trying to get you pregnant. You whimper when his lips find your neck and you rock your hips up to try and meet his.

Every time the two of you come together, Joel remembers how lucky he is. His kisses trail along your throat as he groans into your skin. Both of you give and take from each other. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moans, his body tensing when you clench down around him again. “You gonna cum before I fill you up? Love it when you soak my cock.”

You nod, "yes baby. I - shit - you always feel so good." You slide one hand down between you so you can rub your clit. He immediately bats your hand away after shifting his weight onto one elbow. You moan when he rubs your clit just right, his hips pushing into your ass as you take him deep inside of you. "Shit. Joel. You - I'm - God." You cry out as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him.

“That’s it, good girl, goooooood girl.” Joel moans, clenching his teeth as you come apart around him. He feels his own body is ready to cum, excited by the situation and it only takes a few more thrusts. Instead of pulling his hips back, he plunges them forward, embedding himself deep as he paints your womb with his seed. “Fuck, fuck.” He pants, closing his eyes as he rides out his orgasm, amazed at how good it feels. “You’ll be pregnant in no time.”

You smile against his lips when he leans in to kiss you and you’re so hopeful for the future with Joel. A baby that looks like the two of you combined. You are excited and when he pulls out, you keep his cum inside of you, trying to make sure that it takes. You’ll be pregnant in no time.

****

“Sweetheart….I’m supposed to go ride the southern border and check the area.” You’ve quieted down over the past few hours, but he can still see the sadness lurking in your eyes. You’ve stopped blaming yourself but he knows those thoughts are bouncing around and he’s reluctant to leave you. “Do you want me to have Tommy go? Stay here with you?”

You shake your head, eyes sore from crying, “no baby. Just go. I’ll be fine. Ellie will be back soon.” You murmur, keeping your back turned towards him. You feel useless, you feel broken, and you feel exhausted. You’ve tried so hard to get pregnant. You even researched old wives tales about how to get pregnant. You’ve taken herbs, teas, anything you can to get pregnant and after trying for so long, you’re exhausted.

He worries about you, leaning over and pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible and I’ll make dinner tonight.” He offers. It’s the historical Mother’s Day today, and he knows you will be extra glum since you are once again not pregnant. Sometimes he wonders if he should just tell you that he’s changed his mind, taking the guilt and worry about it off your shoulders. You can blame him for not having a child. “Okay?”

“Sure.” You murmur, closing your eyes as a cramp contracts in your stomach, making you curl into a ball. You really thought this was it. Your period was two weeks late and you didn’t tell Joel because you wanted to surprise him and then you got your period. You sniff and Joel sighs, shuffling out of the bed to get ready for his shift. You can’t blame him. He’s had a kid. It’s got to be you that’s the issue.

He’ll look for some wildflowers for you while he’s out. They always make you smile and tonight, he will do his best to make sure that you know that no matter what, he loves you. He thinks about all this while he puts his clothes on and brushes his teeth, coming out of the bathroom to find you still curled up. “Go soak in a hot bath, baby.” He suggests, walking over to the bed and kissing your cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

You listen to him go and you know it's technically Mother's Day today. Salt in the wound. You swallow harshly and wait until the front door closes before you allow yourself to sob again. You can't believe you aren't pregnant. You've tried so hard. Maybe you aren't meant to be a mother.

Saddling the horse and getting let out of the gates of Jackson has Joel on autopilot. Most often the scouting parties are in groups, but today had been just singles, most men in the community wanting to spend time with their wives and celebrate them. The grass is green and lush; there's a certain beauty to the mild spring transitioning into warmer weather. Urging the horse forward, he is eager to finish the patrol so he can get back to you.

You have your bath, eyes sore from sobbing, and you try to come to terms that you’re never going to be a mother. It’s just not in the cards. You love Ellie and you think of her as your daughter but you wanted a baby, a combination of you and Joel to love and care for in this new world. That isn’t going to happen and you curl around yourself in bed after you’re dry, trying to cope with that fact.

Pulling the reins, Joel listens carefully, certain that he has just heard a cry. His hand goes to his rifle to pull it off his shoulder. Wary of traps or ruses to draw unsuspecting people in, he scans the area. Silence lingers long enough until he’s almost convinced he was hearing things when there’s another, louder cry. A baby. His eyes widen and he nudges the horse forward again. “Hello?” He cups his hand and calls out, wondering if there is a group traveling nearby. There must be, if there is a baby. Mountain lions and things that can sound like a baby crying are farther up in the mountains. Instead of the sound quieting, the crying turns into screaming, giving him a direction to head towards. Joel keeps his rifle up and guides the horse with his knees when he almost stumbles upon the scene. 

“Shit!” There’s a woman lying on the ground, face down with a carrier on her back, a small baby - no more than three or four months old - screaming from the restraints. He scans the areas again, looking for a trap, but there’s nothing moving. The baby's howls prompts him to dismount and move towards the woman, his rifle pointed at her until he reaches them and nudges her with his boot. Wondering if she’s been changed and cannot get to the baby, although he’s never seen one go dormant with a human around and making noise. “Hey…” prodding her doesn’t make her move and Joel scans the area again, the open range not a good spot to plan an ambush, but someone could be hiding in the tall grass. Carefully kneeling down, he grabs a bony thin shoulder and turns the woman enough to see that her gaunt face and shrunken eyes are lifeless. “Shit.” He hisses, looking back at the baby who is almost as bad as the mother. From what it looks like, this poor woman had been traveling to find shelter, food, anything for her and her baby and she collapsed less than two miles from salvation. 

Joel sighs as he sets the rifle down and rolls the body on its side. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs quietly, his heart clenching at the reality of the situation, reaching out to close the woman’s eyes before unbuckling the strap for the carrier that is across her chest.

Ellie returns before Joel does and you offer her a smile as she says hello. “I, uh, I made you something.” She says, handing you a piece of paper. It’s a card. “Happy Mother’s Day” it says and your heart clenches. A genuine smile on your face as you realize she made this for you. You open it and tears sting in your eyes as you read her scrawled handwriting. “Thank you for being the mom I never had.” She wrote and you choke, reaching for her. “I love you so much sweetheart.” You pull her close, reminded that you have a beautiful daughter who loves you. “I love you too.” She murmurs, holding you just as tight. The front door opens and you pull back as you hear a baby crying. “Joel?” You gasp when your partner walks into the kitchen.

“Ellie….go to Tommy’s and get a bottle.” He orders the teenager as he starts to pull the baby carrier off his own chest to take the baby out. He had brought the body back, but this baby needed milk as soon as he could get it for her. “I found her,” he explains. “A woman collapsed two miles away from Jackson, she starved to death.” He motions you over. “At least, I think it’s a girl.”

Your eyes widen as he cradles the baby and you reach out to take them into your arms. The baby’s diaper is dirty and you shush them as you walk over to grab an old dish towel from the drawer as a makeshift diaper. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” You coo, unwrapping the baby on the kitchen table and you tell Joel to get a wet cloth. You work on cleaning up the baby, “it’s a girl.” You announce and wrap her in the dishtowel, using the pin from her old diaper. “It’s okay sweetheart. You’re okay, sweet girl. You’re safe and we are going to get you milk.” You promise, cradling her as you turn back towards Joel. “Her poor mother. So close to salvation.” You sigh, shaking your head at the tragedy.

“I brought her back.” Joel tells you quietly, watching as you bounce the baby girl in your arms and coo at her to calm her down. “Hoping something in her bag would tell us where she’s from, what the baby’s name is.” He sighs softly. “I couldn’t leave her out there.”

“Her mother deserves a service, a burial. We must give this little one a place to visit her mother.” You murmur, stroking her cheek. She’s gorgeous, her eyes watching you, and you try to not get too attached to her, knowing that Maria and Tommy will be handling the situation.

Ellie comes bursting into the house. “Got a bottle!” She yells, thundering down the hall to rush into the kitchen. “Tommy and Maria are coming too.” She pants, quickly handing the full bottle of milk to you. The baby is obviously hungry because the second that you brush the nipple against her mouth, she shakes her little head furiously as she tries to get it in her mouth, crying out before the nipple is in and immediately starting to suckle hungrily with great, greedy gulps.

“We will need more. Tommy and Maria have everything for a baby. We - they should take her.” You murmur, knowing it will be hard to hand the baby over but she isn’t yours and the leader needs to make a decision on her placement.

Joel takes one look at the way you hold this baby while she’s eating and knows that’s not what needs to happen. This baby is your chance to be a mother, to feel like a mother. It’s like it was fate for him to be out there and find her today, to bring her to you. “I think we should keep her.” Joel tells you, coming up and laying his hand on your shoulder. “Tommy and Maria have a lot on their plate with one baby already.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him then back at the baby. “We - us - are you - Joel.” You whisper, a soft smile on your face as you dare to hope that you can keep the little girl. It feels wrong. Her mother just died, but she can’t be left alone. She needs someone to look after her.

The front door opens. “Joel?” Tommy’s voice floats through the house and Joel keeps looking at you with the baby. “In the kitchen.” He calls out. The guards at the gates had kept his horse with the poor woman’s body and he had known Tommy and Maria would come to find out what the hell happened, but he wanted to get the baby here first. Footsteps quickly sound out, two sets of them like he expected and the baby is still greedily sucking away at the milk when his brother and sister in law come into the kitchen.

You look up as Maria walks in, her baby strapped to her chest, and she immediately comes over to see the baby in your arms. “Oh, she’s a sweet little thing. She needs fattening up. Poor girl, her mom was so close to our gates. She needs a mother. You should be her mother.” She says and you stare at her, “are you sure?” Maria smiles, stroking the head of her son. “She needs a mother and you are a more than capable applicant.” She gestures to the way you’re holding the baby. “I- I know this sounds insane but I feel like this is my purpose.” You murmur, looking down at her as she suckles.

Tommy smirks at Joel, who is obviously relieved by the decision. He’s talked to Tommy about the issues you’ve had trying to conceive and wished that there was some way for you to figure out what was wrong, but there just aren’t the medical resources here in Jackson. Joel had even been thinking about trying one of the universities, but couldn’t risk it again. “We both feel that way.”

You smile, cooing at the baby. “Did we find out what her name is?” You ask and Tommy nods, holding up a note that was in the mother’s satchel. “Her name is Hope.” Tommy reveals and you smile, “Hope.” You murmur, pulling the bottle away when she’s done. You shift her to your shoulder to burp her and you cradle her once she’s burped. “She’s our hope.” You declare as you look at Joel and he comes over to wrap his arm around you, looking down at the baby. “Our new daughter.” Joel murmurs, kissing your hair and he beckons Ellie over. “She’s kinda cute.” Ellie says and leans in to stare at the baby. “Hi Hope. I’m Ellie. Your big sister. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Especially about our grumpy dad.” She jokes and Joel chuckles and rolls his eyes. “We will gather everything you’ll need and we will make sure her mother has a proper burial. For now, you guys settle in as a family.” Maria says, stepping back towards Tommy. “Oh and Happy Mother’s Day.” Maria says to you and you smile, “you too.” You may not be able to have a biological baby but you have Ellie and you have Hope. The two girls who have made you a mother.

[sunrisecaminus]

hello !! can i have some headcanons for starscream, knockout, breakdown, and airachnid (or any of them) with a human artist reader who follows them around and wants to draw them ?? thank you ><

Message - All four of these mechs are egotistical as hell, they would cherish everything their human made so this is perfect as headcanons.

Starscream/Knockout/Breakdown/Airachnid x Artist Reader Headcanons

Summary - Decepticons react to their human painting/drawing them.

Warnings - None

Starscream

Honestly he is the best mech for this type of thing. He LOVES when you draw him doing things that make it look cool. Sometimes whenever you draw him in a bad angle, he quickly tells you "Scratch it!" and watches as you quickly scribble the portrait and flip to a blank paper to restart. Starscream sees you as his secretary and pretends to order you around. "Y/n write that down!", "That is perfect for my new profile.", and "Draw me like this". If you couldn't draw him that day for being sick or being too tired, he would check up on you every hour from being so worried about you. He loves when you follow him like a puppy and doesn't want his human to die. He gets super protective about your work and would give someone a hard time if they said your art sucked. Starscream would hide you all the time from lord Megatron; he was never going to let his leader hurt the sweet little pet he got from earth. Look, Starscream understands you were a weak useless little bug for the war, and could never help them out when it comes to battling, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want you to feel alone like he use to feel, wanting you to stay safe with him and let you draw any of your masterpieces without insulting you. No he is not really good at drawing people, but after helping him learn how to draw, you realized he was very good at backgrounds.

Knockout

He has to be one of the worse people to draw, surprisingly. Knockout would go in position to let you draw him, but than thinks of a better position to draw and switches it half way for you to redraw him even though you were already focused on the first. The more the mech loves themselves, the worse it is for them to SIT STILL. Thankfully now you don't tell him when you are drawing him and secretly sketch him when he works. When Knockout sees the final portrait, he would give you compliments for the rest of the day. "My! You even got my fingers right. You flatter me~" Get ready for kisses of approval. If anyone said your drawings was shit, he would actually kill them during surgery or put them in the most torturous situations. For example, lets say a guy tells you in the face that the sketch looked like aft; If that soldier was ever injured after a battle, get ready for Knockout to just deny him his medical services. He treats you like an equal, but some would say he treats you like you were higher than Megatron. Anything you asked of him, he would answer. If you wanted something, it was his mission to give it to you. Nothing would stop him from loving you, now please give him more drawings of himself. If you taught him how to draw, he would be AMAZING at drawing people. He makes really good blueprints of Cybertronian frames and even can draw you very well. Honestly, you probably have a new drawing buddy.

Breakdown

This big boi gets so flustered every time you draw him. Breakdown can't believe his human looks up to him like that and cherishes you for showing him love in your own way. Every paper you give him makes him feel very nervous on touching it. Breakdown doesn't ever want to ruin your stuff. He will keep every single one of them and look at them in his Birth room anytime he felt stressed or angry about something. You were everything to him, wanting to protect you from the other rough soldiers he works with. Anybody that says your art is crap will get the beat down of a life time. People don't understand why he cares so much, but honestly he is one of the sweetest souls that could be with you. You mostly draw him when he is in action, taking in all the good angles of him smacking Autobots. Breakdown is proud of all the shots you got of him and pats you on the head for such good sketches. He understands you will be losing your supplies the more you sketch, so he tries to rob trucks going by to try and steal some for you. It is cool from how many different paint products he can find for you and it gives you a bigger variety of things for creativity. If you helped him figure out how to draw, he would be good at emotional paintings. Breakdown is good at making shapes and splattering paint perfectly where it should be on the canvas.

Airachnid

So we all know this freak would replace species heads with your art. She would force you to draw every species she was able to collect so she could have your achievements on paper forever. She loves it when you draw her, and hangs them everywhere on her ship. Airachnid is really good at complimenting or critiquing your work, being able to tell you where something needs to be fixed while also saying she doesn't care if you don't and still loves your style. No one would insult you for the mere fact that you are Airachnid's pet. No one would dare call your art a piece of scrap because Airachnid would murder them in front of Megatron, even if he tells her not to. Yes, she has little star stickers to put on the edge of your paintings to show which one she likes the most…yes she stickers all your art so you can't figure out which one her favorite is. Don't try to ever draw other people in front of her, she will get jealous and keep you hostage in her ship as punishment. If you had trouble finding art supplies, she would destroy a Walmart for you in no time. Her human will have a storage full of supplies, don't worry you will never run out. If you taught her to paint, she would be really good at graffiti style. Making animals or spraying bubble letter graffiti around where she killed to tease/anger the Autobots is her favorite pass time.

[ellealyssum]

till forever falls apart ✦ zayne x reader ✦ fluff ✦ 1.25k words

The thing you hated most about your period was the different cocktail of symptoms you got each time. You felt awful, not just because of the cramps and the fatigue. You felt useless. Pathetic, even.

talk about periods, established relationship, the tiniest bit of angst, reader gets insecure, zayne is best boyfriend, fem!reader

OOPS there i go again! my period makes me cranky and weepy so this is very self-indulgent of me. and you just know that zayne understands that shit. the title is from the song 'til forever falls apart' by ashe & finneas

also on ao3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 Zayne was sat at his desk at Akso Hospital answering emails when he heard his office door open. He watched you walk in, straight to his armchair, without even so much as a glance in acknowledgement.

 "Hello to you, too, dear."

 You offer him a grunt in reply and situate yourself in the chair so your legs are hanging over the arm. Your shoes make a dull thunk on the carpet as you push them off your suspended feet.

 Despite your apparently sour mood, Zayne was pleasantly surprised to see you. It was your day off today, and you'd been out running some errands. He remembers you mentioning dropping by the Hunter's Association to return some physical reports you'd borrowed.

 "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

 Your sigh is aggressive, like the air in your lungs had somehow offended you. "I got my period."

 The pieces start falling into place. The thing you hated most about your period was the different cocktail of symptoms you got each time. No consecutive month was the same. One month you would get headaches and nausea and the next it would be cramps and back pain.

 "Do you need anything?" Zayne asks you, keeping his voice down in case it was, in fact, a headache month. "Pads? Ibuprofen?"

 You shake your head, gaze fixed on his office ceiling. "No, the pain's not too bad. I just want some goddamn peace and quiet." Zayne can almost feel the frustration coming off you in waves. It mustn't be pleasant, being stuck outside of your comfort zone and suddenly starting to bleed. You often said you could tell when your period arrived because it felt like "the bottom half of your abdomen was going to fall out". Not something Zayne ever hoped to experience himself.

 "So you decided to come here?"

 You finally turn to look at him and he raises his eyebrows at you questioningly. "It was closest."

 He nods and gets up from his chair. "Rest here for a minute, I just need to make a call." He watches you curl into yourself before closing the door behind him. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he double checks his schedule for the rest of the day. Fortunately, the one surgery he had today had wrapped up before lunch and nothing else on his to-do list was urgent.

 He found Greyson making coffee in the doctor's lounge. "Something's come up. I'll be leaving early today."

 Greyson's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Zayne taking last-minute time off wasn't exactly a common occurrence. "Of course, Dr. Zayne, no problem at all."

 Zayne nodded his thanks and turned to leave before Greyson stopped him. "It isn't Miss Hunter, is it? I saw her walk by not long ago and she didn't look like her usual self."

 He couldn't help his slight smile. His colleague's concern for you warmed his heart a little. "Nothing to be worried about, Dr. Greyson."

 He's lucky you haven't fallen asleep in the five minutes he was gone. You look like you could really use a nap.

 "Come on, love, sit up straight." He takes your hands and helps your pivot to sit normally before collecting your shoes from the floor. "I'm done for the day. Let's get you home."

 You stare down at him with bleary eyes as he gently slips your feet back into your sneakers and re-ties the laces for you. "Are you sure? It's only two o'clock."

 "I'm sure." He tucks your hand into his elbow once you stand. "Have you eaten anything?"

 Your eyes are still locked on your shoes. "Didn't feel like it."

 He fights down the usual urge to reprimand you for neglecting your health. He could barely get you to speak or even look at him right now as it was. It wasn't the time for criticism. "We'll stop at the supermarket on the way home. You can stay in the car if you'd like."

・・・・・

 You felt awful, and not just because of the cramps and the fatigue. You were sat on your couch with a cup of tea Zayne had made, watching as he busied himself putting away the snacks he'd bought for you. You'd ruined his work day, made him buy you groceries and now he was organising your kitchen. You felt helpless. Pathetic, even.

 He sits beside you, resting his own cup of tea on the coffee table, making sure to use a coaster because of fucking course he would. Somehow, that's the straw that breaks the camel's back.

 "You don't have to stay." You fix your gaze on the brown liquid in your mug. You don't want him to see the tears in your eyes. You're being so stupid, crying because your angel of a boyfriend is looking after you. Another thing to add to the list of reasons you don't deserve him.

 "Why do you say that?" You can tell he's confused just from the tone of his voice.

 "You spend all day every day looking after people, Zayne. You shouldn't have to look after me, too."

 He turns towards you and takes the tea from your hands, placing it next to his own. "Look at me, love. Please."

 You can't deny him anything when he asks you like that. The worry in his eyes is enough to make you cry harder. He takes both of your hands in his. The cool touch of his skin is soothing.

 "I'm not sure what's brought this on, but I need you to listen to me, okay?" You nod, letting the tears draw tracks down your cheeks. "I don't take care of you because I feel like I have to. Yes, I spend a lot of time taking care of my patients, but at the end of the day, that's my job. I care for them because they need me, because it's my duty to do so. But you?" He wipes your tear-stained skin with his thumb. "You don't need me to take care of you. You're the most stubbornly independent person I know. You can handle it all yourself. I take care of you because I want to. Because you've given me the honour of trusting me to. Because I love you, and seeing you in pain is painful for me, too. It has never felt like an obligation to me. Not even for a second."

 You're sobbing now, the immense, overwhelming love you feel drowning out all the other emotions swirling through your heart. "I'm sorry, Zayne, I'm so sorry, I love it when you take care of me, I really do, it's just the hormones making my brain funny and everything just got too much and I let it all get the better of me, I'm sorry." He listens to your rambling without complaint, still wiping your tears through it all.

 "You don't have to apologise, sweetheart." He pulls you into his lap, rubbing soothing circles into your back. "When you get overwhelmed and the hormones get to your head, I'll always be here to help set it all right again."

 You sniffle into his neck, feeling yourself relax into his touch. "Even when I cry all over you?"

 His chuckle is a pleasant vibration against your ear. "Especially then."

 Your tears dry, leaving you worn out but with a much clearer head. "I love you, too, Zayne."

 He doesn't say anything more. He doesn't need to. The last thing you feel before you drift off to sleep is his soft kiss on your hairline.

[nightscythe]

I’ve been sick for the past two weeks, and it’s got me wondering—how do you think the primarchs would handle their s/o being sick for that long? Would some of them totally panic and try to carry you to the medbay even if you just have a cold? Or would they be the quietly worried type, sitting next to you and acting like they’re not checking your temperature every five minutes?

Would any of them try (and fail) to cook you something? Or maybe sit there reading to you because rest is important? I need to know who’s handling it with grace and who’s acting like you’re dying of the plague.

i hope you feel better anon!! i hope this gives you a bit of comfort ◡̈

pre-heresy primarchs when their muse is sick? just another way of saying that their entire world is shutting down. because they don't get sick so they just can't compute it properly.

cw for sickness/illness of course, worries about death, and alpharius' one is darker.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the lion: he would never, ever leave your side. he may not outright tell you he's worried but given the fact he's moved in days, its safe to assume his worry has consumed him beyond anything else. actually, the only time he did leave was when you fell asleep one time and he wanted to make you food himself (because, if whoever was making your food before was doing a good job, you'd be better already). he can't actually cook but he does his best for you an it actually turns out well, and when you inadvertently compliment him he decide then and there he will walways be the one who makes your food. convinces himself he's the reason you're getting better in the end. and when you finally find a bit of rest? he finally lets his hands shake because he was worried. tiny over-reaction.

fulgrim: pff, dramatic? that's not fulgrim at all. convinces himself you've contracted the black plague for certain, but keeps up his happy appearance and tells everyone you're going to be fine anyway. no expense is too much, an array of possible things to make you better are presented each day, no matter how many times you tell him you don't need tiny rocks to make you feel better no matter how pretty they were. would probably need shutting down eventually and for you to tell him you would just like him, not everything he can offer. his heart practically melts at the thought, and even if you did have the plague, he'd still risk getting it to so he could revel in how much you wanted him around.

perty: hates more than anything that he can't fix it for you. probably spends more time away from you in an effort to cure whatever illness you have (because antibiotics could surely be more efficient), asking for four updates an hour from his sons. also probably thinks he's useless being with you, so there's no point with you. let's say you have enough of not seeing him and find him, sit beside him and watch him work. he wouldn't notice you at first, so focused on distracting himself from worry that shouldn't even exist to him. but when you place your hand on his, he freezes. what do you need? he'd ask, and when you say you need him, he short circuits for a moment. yes, of course, whatever will help. probably one of the first times he realised it was him that you loved and not his mind.

khan: there's not many times he would show his feelings openly. but he doesn't understand human weakness, certainly not something so mundane as being sick. so when he tries to imagine it in his head, he somehow inflates it to something far worse than it actually is. he makes an effort to keep light banter with you, even jest at how he'd never expected something like this to phase you. he'd want to let you rest, but when you ask him to stay, he'd be the first to sit back down and make sure no one was disturbing him for at least 24 hours. he'd talk to you until you fell asleep and stay by your side until you woke up. the second you feel better he tells you he always knew you'd be fine, but internally he's finally stopped worrying that he was going to lose you.

leman: laughed it off at first (nervously) because he knew you were strong. forgot you were not a primarch and could acually be defeated by something as small as a cold in the more dire circumstances. he'd be quite proactive in trying to get you to recover. no mopping around in bed all day when you could be having a warm bath or sitting beside him eating a good meal. somehow by trying to convince himself everything is fine and normal he becomes extremely efficient in making you feel better because you just feel... normal. but when you really have had enough, and you just want to rest, it only takes one look for him to give in. come here, little one, he'd say as he pulled you into his arms, resting his head against yours, you are strong, you'll be okay.

dorn: he may not have the words to say to you, but he's comfort incarnate nonetheless. he holds your hand, a bit (a lot) tighter sometimes when you show any symptoms of your illness. he asks for things to be brought to you that he knows will help (ie, soup, and even tastes it to make sure its the perfect temperature), he processes every bit of information logically so he knows what could possibly happens. accidentally focuses on the most negative side effects. a side effect of your medication is death? doesn't matter how many times you tell him they have to say that in case you have an allergic reaction, he's convinced himself of the worse. only recovery will remove this fear. is your personal guardian until you feel better regardless.

curze: has no clue what to do. is angry at you for being sick (he told you to wear a jacket when it was cold and this is what we've come to?). angry at himself for not being able to change it (because he should have held you in his arms and forced you to share his warmth). he could just go and check if you needed anything but that's too easy. life isn't that fair to him, there must be more to it. turns his attention elsewhere in ignorant bliss. returns to your bedside in time for you to wake up and still doesn't say anything to you, just watches. if you seem any worse he'll send someone, he's no help in this situation. no, he just goes and procures you a bunch of flowers and a gift to show his affection.

sanguinius: he already treats you like the most fragile thing in existence, so when you actually do show an ounce of weakness? he caves. he will not let you lift a finger. he will not have you bear a single thought without his support. you may just have a sore throat, he'd silence you with a kiss and speak for you, as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. he'd smile sweetly as he did everything in his power to ensure you were recovering (yes, he'd have someone check on you every ten minutes, even has an oximeter on you just in case...). type to lay beside you as you sleep, watch you so closely he can track each of your breaths, shield you from anything the outside world has to offer. and he knows you'll be fine. but whats a better excuse than this to treat you like he always wanted to.

ferrus: well you're not allowed to have anything happen to you, so good luck. he doesn't really know how to tell you anything else. you're not leaving me, he'd say as he sat beside me. and you can tell him over and over its literally just tonsillitis or whatever. he doesn't listen. its like him telling you over and over will somehow indoctrinate your body into listening to him. immediately begins looking into a way to make sure you're not susceptible to illness again, but never leaves your side. it would seem that vaccines need to be made stronger...that is how they work, if they were more effective, you would not be in this condition. how do you tell him you can't vaccinate against every single bacteria and virus. in his own arrogance of telling you you can't leave him, he doesn't worry too much.

angron: it was okay at first. then he really thought about it. he's unable to cope at all. please don't leave me he'd whisper in the dead of night. he's so quietly observant, seeing your fever get worse, how you reached for him as if you wanted him to help. please, my love, tell me you won't leave me. he knows you're sleeping and won't hear him, but he can't bring himself to say it at any other time. he just sits there, his legs and hands shaking, waiting for your fever to break overnight. there were a few times he felt utterly powerless and this was one of those times. and when he finally sees you open your eyes, how you seem just a touch better? every part of his body relaxes. he knows you're past the worst of it. he knows you won't leave him.

rob: brings in the best medicae he knows, stands behind them observing all their tests to ensure he is satisfied they know everything that's wrong and have a complete follow up treatment plan. basically becomes versed in medicine as well so he can form part of the discussions and reassures himself the best that can be done is being done. ignore that all you had was the flu. yeah it sucks but you'll more than likely be fine. he micromanages every part of your recovery alongside the medicae to ensure optimal recovery. does he worry? yes. but he hides it better than the others in front of you. outside your room? he's pacing. he's got about 5 action plans in the works for what to do if you start to feel worse, don't respond to the paracetamol, and if you do get better when he's not there.

morty: it wasn't very often that mortarion felt weak himself. but when you're sick? when he can't immediately take away your pain or your hurt? that's when he breaks. you were used to his blank stare 90% of the time and having to work out how he actually felt. but the second his voice broke, it was obvious - he was not coping well. because he felt responsible for you, keeping you safe, keeping you well, and he felt like he had failed you. he'd personally take control of your recovery. he'd spent each minute with you, never allowing himself to take his eyes off you until he knew you were well again. even if you told him you were okay, he'd shush you, still seeing that you looked tired or your hands shook a little. the only person he could ever trust to help you was himself, and its in this time you see the mortarion that existed behind all of the walls he built.

magnus: he can feel everything you can, so no point lying to him. every ache, every pain - you can't hide anything from him. and that makes it so much worse because he starts to panic even more. he's completely devoted to you and he's not afraid to show it either. he'd lay with you, cast illusions of grandeur to try to make you feel a bit better. craft stories to take your mind off whatever you're feeling. use ancient treatments to offer you any reprise he can. and when you do fall asleep? poor guy just falls apart. he's scared to lose you already and seeing you in any kind of weakened state really sets him over the edge. he's cry whilst holds you, he'd search every future he can to see an outcome. when you wake up and tell him you're feeling a lot better? his heart almost bursts with joy. such a soft huge guy its unreal.

horus: he says he's not concerned (he is) because he's seen men lose most of their body and still survive (yeah thanks for that). he doesn't leave your side though, opting to cancel every engagement he was meant to attend in favour of spending it with you. i know it will pass, sweetheart, he'd say as he wrapped his arms around you and kept you as close to him as possible, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, but i would rather be with you until i know you're okay. he cares deeply about you and he's completely obssessed with you, so of course he's going to worry - but he turns that into extra love for you.

lorgar: he first of all believes that this is punishment for something he's done wrong. he's convinced that the powers above, be it his father or something else, knew that the fastest way to hurt him was through you. when you explain its because you caught it off a serf (an immediately retracted admission because this poor serf was almost about to feel the wrath of a primarch in love), he questions it, but accepts it. he would not feel whole again until you were well - this literally breaks him inside (because he later convinces himself this was fate's punishment and blames himself). he's so caught up in his divine presentation of you that he forgets you are human, his worship doesn't make you invincible. don't expect anything practical from him, he's now making plans to actually make you a divine entity.

vulkan: praise to the one primarch who doesn't overreact. he understands the depths of why you're unwell (be it a cold, a virus, or something more serious) and tailors his approach perfectly, knowing exactly what you do and don't need. and you know his big warm hands are extremely nice to feel no matter what's burdening you. he will give you your space when you need it, especially when you're sleeping so he doesn't disturb you, and when you want his company? he's right there with anything you've previously told him you liked. hot water bottle, blanket, energy drink (poor choice but 1 is permitted), he would have it all. let me take care of you, he'd mumble, pulling you into his arms. perfectly normal reaction, really.

corax: acts like he doesn't care, but he does. sends medicae your way the second he sees a slight shift, even if its just your voice sounding a bit hoarse or if you wince when you move a little. stands at the other side of the room and listens to everything they say with great detail to ensure he carries out their treatment to the best of his ability. if its something small he can sigh in relief for now, but anything else would leave him a bit of a mess internally. because what would he do without you? how can he get through life without you by his side? immediately assumes the worst and becomes a silent observer. makes sure everything you need is at your side immediately when you need it - including him.

alpharius: you needed him so much that he liked it. you always kept your independence around him, but when you were sick? you asked for his help in everything. and he lived for it. so maybe he manipulates your recovery. you thought you'd feel better after a week, but 3 weeks in and you still don't feel 100%. the medicae tells you its just a stronger form of the virus you caught. must have mutated. you're not paying enough attention to notice how they glance at alpharius when speaking. i'll keep you safe, he tells you, locking your door behind him. its not like you could get up to leave anyway, the strong painkillers kept you in bed. i won't let anything happen to you, he whispers softly as he strokes your hair and holds you against him. i won't lose you, as he wonders how he's going to convince you that you're still sick when you have no more symptoms.

[azrielstaylorsversion]

Confessing

Azriel x reader

Y/N comes home bloodied head to toe. Azriel has been worried sick and helps her, leading to a long overdue confession.

"Stop being so fidgety. It's annoying." Cassian huffs. I only glare at him, not even bothering to tell him to shut up.

"She'll be back soon, don't worry." Feyre says from across the room, a comforting smile on her face. She is the only one in this room who doesn't mock my behavior.

I've been feeling so worried. She had to be back by now. It was taking way too long.

"I think you should confess your feelings towards her. And don't tell me; oh but she's just my best friend! I'm just worried! Because no, this isn't best friend behavior." Cassian speaks.

"If you say one more useless word I will punch you in the throat." and I really mean it. I was getting sick of their childish behavior.

Rhys chuckles. He likes seeing me get fed up.

He needs to shut up most of all. He was the one who had decided to send her on this mission. Not that she couldn't handle any of it.

She never took longer than she needed. Never. She was always back early or right on time. And this wasn't a particularly easy mission.

I had spend my entire morning pacing the length of my room.

She was supposed to be back in the morning. It was now later in evening.

I could see from Rhys's behavior that he was worried too, but he wasn't going to admit it. He knew that her taking too long wasn't good.

"Can't you just reach out to her?" I ask for the third time.

Rhys sighs. "No. It's too risky." he tells me again.

My shadows are growing more restless with every passing second.

Just as I was about to argue with Rhys again, the front door to the River House opens and closeses

I jump to my feet, waiting for anyone to appear.

She slowly comes into view. I feel sick to my stomach when I finally take her in.

"I think I need some help." she speaks.

I immediately rush to her side, not caring if the blood stains my clothes, which it was definitely going to do.

"Are you okay?" I ask worriedly.

"Hi Az." she still manages to say with a smile. Her entire body weight leans against mine.

"What happened?" Rhys had rushed to her side too, looking her over. "Do I need to call Madja?" he ask.

She looks around the room with some sort of confusion. "No. I think it's okay. I think I need to rest." she tells Rhys way too calm. She is acting weird.

Her hand found its way to my back, holding on for support. Her fingers are almost digging into me.

She needs to get away from here.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Rhys asks calmy. Feyre has moved to his side now, Cassian not too far behind.

Her eyes flicker to mine for just a second while moving the hand and fingers on my back again. "I will tell you the details later, but they are dead as you requested. Everything went well, except for this." she says. "I-.. I think I need rest. Please."

Anger fills my body. "You send her on an assasination mission?" I ask Rhys angirly.

Rhys sighs, but before I can yell at him I feel a hand against my chest. "Az. Not now." she speaks softly. I immediately shut my mouth.

"I will see you later Rhys, okay?" she says. The High Lord nods, his eyes on her for a few seconds too long. They are definitely speaking mind to mind. After those seconds he nods a second time before smiling at her and turning around to lead Feyre and Cassian away.

She tugs on my sleeve. "Come. Help me upstairs please." she asks, her voice calm.

I don't hesitate before helping her limping body up the stairs. We don't speak until we reach her room.

She carefully sits down on her bed, wincing while doing so. The mask of calmness slowly slips away.

Pain and panic replaces it instead.

I could finally really look at her body. She is covered in blood from head to toe. I wasn't sure if all of it was her own blood. I was almost certain it wasn't, but a lot of it was hers.

A groan escapes her lips. I make my way over to her side, sitting down on the already blood stained sheets and wrapping my arms around her body.

"I really need to make sure that you're not seriously injured somewhere. I can't really make I out." I tell her gently, moving my hand to remove the sticky hair from her face.

She shakes her head. "I have a few cuts. Some are deep, but they are already healing. The blood is a mix of mine and theirs." she tells me.

I put a hand on her cheek, making her turn her eyes to mine. "Please tell me what I can do to make you feel better."

She blinks, staring into my eyes. After a few seconds she shakes her head. "I just think I need a bath."

I nod, standing from her bed and making my way over to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"Getting the bath ready for you." I tell her, not bothering to look back.

She stands from the bed and I can hear her wince, which did make me turn around.

"Why don't you just sit down and wait until I have the bath ready." I try.

"No." she makes her way over to me.

I sigh, but I know that there would be no point in arguing.

I make my way into her connecting bathroom, getting the bath ready. I especially make sure to have the right temperature she likes.

She is sitting on the edge of the large bath, staring at me. I can only stare back at her bloody body, making myself look away after a few seconds.

"You're worried." she says.

I don't look her way, grabbing the stuff she likes to put in her bath. "Of course I am." I answer her.

"You know I will always come back to you, right?" she speaks soothingly.

I freeze at her words, my eyes flickering to hers for a second. "Yes, of course." I answer. I move away from the bath, giving her space. "I will wait outside. Just say when you need anything." I tell her.

I wait outside of the bathroom, sitting down on her bed. I need to see her be okay and clean. I couldn't inspect her injuries through all the blood.

It took about twenty minutes when the door finally opens. She walks out in only a towel. It was a miracle that all the blood was gone.

I was finally able to tell where she is hurt. And as I had expected, she had lied about her injuries.

She avoids my eyes, noticing me picking up her injuries. She immediately makes her way over to her closet to take out something to sleep in. Something to cover everything up.

There was a large open gash down her leg along with a large open cut on her left arm. There are many bruises and other smaller cuts on her entire body.

"You should've told me." I tell her.

She stills, but doesn't turn around. I can hear her sigh softly. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to prove myself."

She still doesn't move my way, instead making her way back inside the bathroom.

I stand from the bed, making my way towards the door. She clearly doesn't want to talk to me.

My body is thrown back before I reach the door. My shadows are blocking me from taking the last few steps, pulling at my arms and legs to go back to the bed.

I struggle against their grip, but they only get stronger. I sigh and give in, returning back to the bed.

The moment I sit down she walks out of the bathroom, finally looking at me.

"If you want me to leave, I will, but the shadows..." I tell her. She cuts me off by holding up her arms, showing me the shadow curled around it.

"I don't want you to leave." she says. "And your shadows really don't want you either." she adds with a chuckle.

"What did you mean when you said you just wanted to prove yourself?" I ask her.

She walks over to where i'm sitting, taking a seat next to me. "I had a conversation with Rhys last week. He told me I needed to 'be more careful' on missions." she folds her hands nervously.

I hate to admit that I agree with Rhys's words. She had been a little less careful on missions lately. Like coming back with injuries or almost getting caught. My version of solving that problem was helping her and training her more. Rhys on the other hand had thought that talking her into wanting to prove herself would help.

"I took it too far. I was afraid that Rhys would remove me from my position." she admits.

"You know that Rhys would never do that." I tell her, sounding as comforting as possible.

My shadows curl around her arms and legs. I can see her smile slightly.

My shadows really love her. They always have.

"I'm still scared that there's no place for me in this job. I fail all the time and I-"

"Stop." I break her off. "Just stop talking. Please." I tell her as kindly as possible.

She looks at me with surprise.

I take her hand. "Just because you get hurt a few times doesn't mean you are not meant for this job. I've gotten hurt countless of times. I can help you. We can go on a few missions together." I offer. I don't want her to lose confidence just because it went wrong a few times.

"You really don't have to waste your time on me. I could get another job or whatever." she rants, avoiding my eyes.

"You love spying right?" I ask her.

She looks up at me. "Yes, but-"

"So if I can help you and you can continue to do this than it's not a waste of time." I tell her, squeezing her hand. "If I can help you proceed to do the things you love, that's all that matters to me. I would spend all my time on you if that's what you need."

She just stares at me, processing my words. Than she laughs. "I-I don't know what to say. But thank you." she tells me.

I smile at her. "You got me really worried while you were gone." I admit. I point to her body. "Still do."

She sighs, but smiles. "The wounds are already healing. I promise to get the ones that don't heal by tomorrow morning checked out."

"Okay. That's a good promise." I tell her. My shadows move around her body, searching for wounds. They love her so much.

She climbs further up her bed, moving over to her pillows, sitting against the headboard. She looks at me and pats the spot next to her on her too large bed.

The bed was definitely designed for lllyrians, so there was enough space for me to lay down.

I move onto my side so that I can face her. "You should sleep instead of making me stay and talk to you." I grin.

She chuckles. "Well, I can make you stay and sleep. I enjoy your presence just as much as your talking." she tells me, grabbing my scarred hands. "Thank you for always being there for me."

I smile. "Of course. You're my best friend." I say, even though saying best friend didn't sound right.

I love her. But not like I love Cass or Rhys or Feyre. I really love her. My family has been teasing me about it for years now, telling me to just make a move, telling me she feels the same. But if she really feels the same, why doesn't she say anything?

But again, I don't tell her about it. She might have the same reason for not telling me.

"Best friend." she muttered, her eyes on our intertwined hands. My shadows brushed against them.

"What?" I ask.

"I'm sorry I-.. I feel like I need to tell you this." she says, her eyes still on our hands. "This might ruin everything, but hearing you say best friend while I want it to be so much more is difficult."

My eyes stay on her face, not knowing what to say. "Are you serious?" I only manage to say.

She looks at me swiftly before looking away again. "I am." she answers quietly.

She notices how I don't say another thing, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm sorry I know I shouldn't have said that. You can leave if you--"

I cut her off by putting a hand on her cheek, making her stop talking and stare at me. I don't know how to use my words, so I lean in to kiss her.

I had expected her to move away or laugh at me. Telling me it was just a joke.

But it wasn't.

She gladly let me press my lips against hers, kissing me back immediately.

After a few seconds she pulled away, staring at me and suddenly laughing. "I've liked you for years. This is so weird."

I stare at her. "What, years?" I question. "You're telling me I could've done this years ago?" I say.

"Wait you liked me before?" she asks, looking confused.

"I've been in love with you since the night Rhys brought you home to meet us all." I tell her, moving my thumb over her cheek.

She smiles. "You love me?"

I nod. "Of course I love you."

She kisses me again. "I love you too." she whispers against my lips.

I smile down at her and deepen the kiss, holding her closely.

After a few breathless minutes she is the one to break the kiss. "I love all of this and you so much, but I'm actually exhausted and maybe a tiny bit in pain, so I would like to continue this in the morning."

"That's totally fine." I brush a strand of hair out of her face. "Do you want me to stay here?"

She nods, smiling. "Please."

I move my body under the covers, pulling her into my arms. My arms wrap tightly around her waist, being careful about not hurting her in the process.

She puts her head on my chest, placing a kiss on it. "Goodnight Az." she says softly.

I place a kiss on top of her head. "Goodnight."

[wandascrush]

Welcome to the world

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pain, birth, crying, water breaking

Cold sweat lined your forehead when you opened your eyes, adjusting to the darkness in the room. You flung your sheets off the bed and sat up, immediately holding your tender belly. You felt nauseous, cramped up, and sweaty- the worst combo. Immediately, you waddled over to the restroom, splashing cold water on your face and taking shallow breaths in and out. Phew- you were calming down, everything was okay. Just the normal symptoms when your 38 weeks, nothing new.

You hoped the warm light pouring into the bedroom wouldn’t wake up your exhausted wife that only got four hours of sleep the night before, tending to your early morning sickness. You felt bad but hey, you were equal, it’s not like you got any sleep either with this little one growing inside you. You finished drying your face off with a towel and drinking some water through the sink when you decide to head back to bed and try to get more rest, it was probably just some Braxton hicks pains. That is until you felt a gush of water down your legs, your water broke

“Nat-,” she didn’t even stir. You gripped the side of the door frame, hands turning red as you groaned out in pain, “Natty!”

Two hours later you were in a delivery room, damp with sweat and a worried, but excited, wife holding your hand. The hospital lights flooded your vision as nurses and doctors came in and out, checking your dilation. 

Tender lips brushed the top of your head, “Shhhh detka, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for, just a little earlier than planned. Breathe, that’s it, in and out, just like that sweetheart,” and when you looked into her eyes you’d never seen so much love from another human. Your stomach immediately cramped again, pain washing over you as you closed your eyes and took shaky breaths out loud.

Clint was on his way with Laura, the future uncle and aunt of your child, speeding down the highway. Steve, your baby's future Godfather, was two hours away picking up flowers for you, a teddy bear for your little one, and candy for Natty and himself. The rest of the group was getting back from a mission overseas, no doubt they would miss the birth, but you knew they’d be there ASAP.

The warm glow of the bright lights kept you up, even as you tried to shut out all other senses. Closing your tired eyes and imagining what the cries of your baby would be like was the only thing that brought you comfort. Once the pain subsided and nurses stopped poking and prodding you, images of your new family of three eased your mind.

Natasha was right by your side, rubbing your back through the pain and nausea, dabbing your forehead with a cold compress for the hot flashes and feeding you ice chips. In this moment she swore to herself you’d never looked so beautiful. You were her dream come true. All three of you. An hour later your redhead had to step out to update Maria and Fury on what was going on.

At first, sure Fury was disappointed to lose one of his best agents for a couple months for maternity leave- but he couldn’t hide his excitement either.

Laura’s sweet gaze was above you in the meantime, gently lifting your head up to press cold compresses on your neck and chest.

“Hey momma, how’re we holding up?” She grabbed some water for you and adjusted your pillow. 

“Well, for starters I feel like a tiny human is kickboxing with my insides…so right on point I’d say.” You tried to sit up on your elbows, wriggling your way through the copious amounts of hospital sheets.

It felt like hours before the nurses gave you the go-ahead to start pushing. You had never been so glad for any decision like the decision to get an epidural during delivery. Was it still painful? Hell yes. But did it hurt a lot less? Also, hell yes. Natasha felt useless watching you, not being able to help. It was like being stabbed in the chest every time she heard you scream or start to cry. The best she could do was not keel in pain when you practically broke her hand from squeezing it so hard. And then- in a magical instant- she was here. 

Mae Lena Romanoff. 

This beautiful, new child you just delivered was crying and being wrapped in a blanket.

You and your wife’s biggest dream had arrived and she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Her nose was the same as her momma’s, with your e/c eyes. She had a full head of brownish-reddish hair like Natasha’s, damp on her small head. You couldn’t help yourself from crying, sobbing really, as you looked at this little doll in your arms. And as you looked up at Natasha, she was crying too.

The nurses started cleaning you up and doing all the usual routines after giving birth, making sure not only your baby was healthy but yourself as well. Natasha took the baby in her arms and sat by you, marveling at this little joy she created with her wife. Her gentle arms cradled the baby close to her ear as she whispered to her, “Welcome to the world, little one. As long as I’m here, no one will hurt you. Not ever.”

An hour later the room was filled with Clint, Laura, their kids, and Steve. All of them gently stroked the baby’s head, cooing and “awww”ing. You held her close and pointed to everyone in the room, “That’s your Uncle Clint, he’s going to teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow. And that’s your Auntie Laura, one of the best people you’ll ever meet. Those are your cousins that are going to play with you until you’re all grown up. And that right there, is Steve. The best Godfather anyone could ask for. Later on you’ll meet Tony and Pepper, they’ll get you into so many adventures. We’re all going to love you so much, sweet baby. ” If you could freeze this perfect moment in time, you absolutely would. You knew that as long as you had Natasha, your daughter, and this village to help raise her- your family would always be okay.

[vinjinssunglasses]

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♯┆summary; With the mention of a rebellion against your lover and a third party mysteriously arising in the midst of a war, Haruto’s home life.. All piling upon themselves, worry after worry. The last thing you want is bloodshed.

♯┆ tags; established relationship, implied child abuse/neglect, canon divergence,

♯┆ w/c; 3.8k

♯┆ a/n; plot-heavy, somi park training arc 😭 help im so tired. also a pt.2 of my previous shingen fic ^^

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That night you rested in his loving arms, his hair draping over your body. No matter how gentle he were, singing you sweet lullabies when he realised you were still awake, your body simply refused all efforts to relax.

Stress has taken over your mind, and it’s as if your not the one in charge if your body. Has anything even changed? Everything you did seemed futile. Whats the point of even trying anymore?

Your turned your body more into his warm chest, and tried to forget everything. Clear all these useless thoughts, push them to the back of your head and finally let your mind relax. They crawled from the pit you banished them to and caused trouble as if to taunt you.

What did Shintaro mean that day? Rebellion. Shingen, pronounced dead? There’s a reason why he’s the leader, have they all forgotten? Deep down you know he will remain undefeated, yet the thought of him paralysed on the floor, crimson blood pouring out of his body gnaws at you. What would his last words be? Why, what, when, who — is it just impossible for you to rest easy?

Shouldn’t you tell Shingen? Sitting up, his hand draped from your waist to your thighs, and he wearily blinked awake.

“What’s the matter? Can’t sleep again?” Shingen muttered, half-asleep.

“Yeah. I’m going to go get some fresh air and a drink. You go back to sleep, alright baby?” You placed a kiss upon his forehead, and he rested against the pillow once more, taking your word.

The cold breeze of the night calmed you only a little as you walked towards the kitchen. Stars and moon alike, you watched as they formed detailed constellations upon the sky — one of a knife and a moon. That reminded you: Shingen would always call you his star, and you’d call him your moon. His favourite inanimate thing was the moon, shining brightly at night and disappearing by day. He’d say it’s represent him as youth, however not going to deeply into it. Shingen’s expression whenever it came up in conversation were.. unusually troubled. As if it haunted him and had to shut it out for years, just for it to reappear when he least expects it.

It made you wonder what happened, who made him this way? If anything, you wanted to seek revenge, and yet you couldn’t.

Rules must’ve stopped him from falling in love with you in the first place, just like how rules are stopping you now. If it wasn’t so frowned upon, you would’ve taken uo marital arts and higher education. Being born into this life stopped you from being you, stripping you from your talents to being in a uniform, dystopian society called impossible expectations that we name as the ideal life for women and those alike. Same with Gun, your only son, becoming a slave to this system.

Letting out a sigh you didn’t realise you were holding in, you carefully slided open the door, revealing the room you were so used to seeing. Leaning against the counter, taking steady small sips while sneakily opening a tablet of sleeping pills, you could only hold your head in your hand. You’d be damned if anyone realised you snuck in pills like these, yet you needed them. You hated the fact you needed them. Each time you swallowed it down your throat, it only reminded you how you were so dependent on this clan. Having your families reputation boosted this way was the only way to recover it in the first place, realising how much they’ve messed up everything.

You cursed under your breath, and a headache came upon you. It must be from all these unwanted thoughts reappearing.

“I see you’re up late.“ A familiar voice echoed in your ears and you turned to look at the tall figure, Shintaro. Worst timing. You were only wearing a small nightgown, you were dressed too informally to be met with someone of upmost authority. Undeserved authority. Rules were the only thing he cared about. Setting aside his own emotions and others morals, he made sure everyone fit into this idolised society. Its was as if it were our fault we were born and raised into this life. The way he re-enforced these problematic beliefs were like it were law, despite not abiding to the real law in the first place, resorting to violence when and whenever he pleased. His manipulative tactics made it seem as if he were a befitting leader for the clan, drawing everyone in with the whip of his fan and his smooth tone of voice. Shintaro’s undeniably astounding looks have him the upper hand, even the other ladies from other clans chattered amongst themselves when they found out weren’t married yet, flirting with him whenever the opportunity arises. As they say, ‘you should marry into power and wealth.’

It wouldn’t be wrong to say they gained and admired Shintaro more than Shingen’s leadership. Shingen may be blinded at times, yet he had the brain capacity to understand complex situations and arise new rules and regulations when change were necessary. He weighed the benefits for the people, always upholding them as first in his mind, as they were to live peacefully under his guidance. On the other hand, Shintaro twisted the rules to fit his own narrative, manipulating them as to seem Shingen made it this way, to seem as it were his fault the Yamazaki were so divided. You didn’t trust him and avoided all communication and conflict, as he’ll make them turn from you too. It was no use anyway — they already wanted your head on a pitchfork.

“Yes. My apologies for any disturbance I’ve caused, I’ll go back to my room—“

“Wait.” Shintaro started, taking slow steps towards, gazing down upon your avoidant one. The moonlight cast shadows over the room, completely still, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Every ounce of your being anticipates his next move, and your breathing stopped.

“Why won’t you rebel? Can’t you see we’re all unhappy under his rule?” His hand lifted to rest upon your shoulder, the force crushing your collarbone just enough not to break it. The knife was sitting there in its rack, and it felt as if it were staring at you, begging to picked up. If this were to go on, he may as well break your shoulder.

In one swift motion, you ripped the knife out of its rack, its sharp end reaching his lips, glistening in the moons radiance.

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? Unless you want your head splattered on this floor for me to clean up, I don’t want to hear another word.” Stern, serious and strict. Underneath this facade, you were shaking. Knife trembling in your fingers, you upheld your scrutinising gaze, watching as his hand fell to his sides. Shintaro didn’t want to admit that he saw Shingen in your eyes, the same look he gave him that day. The same strength that beat him once before was in you. It dawned upon him that you may have the ability to become as strong as Shingen one day, however that was only a meaningless hunch. Someone like you is simply just a joke.

“I could make you my wife, and give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Unlike him, who only disappoints this clan. Why would you want a leader like him? Talk to the people of this clan, wouldn’t you?” Grasping onto the knife, Shintaro pointed it towards the ground gently.

“Didn’t I say I didn’t want to hear another word from you?”

“One last chance. I’ll give you one, last chance.” He swerved in closer, breathe cold against your ear. Gripping onto his collar, you shivered, pulling him away.

“Get out of my sight, you hear me? Next time, I’ll delve this knife into your throat.” You growled, the thought of it all making your blood boil.

Shintaro sighed, accepting that boneless threat as an answer. “Fine, as you wish.” Yet you knew this wouldn’t be the last time he would do this. Having you in his side would make one less corpse to clean up, and an easier way to excuse the bloody murder he were scheming.

The two of you exchanged one last glance, and the tension eased as you were left alone to your own thoughts. All this time you avoided troublesome matters like this, and it finds you when you least want it. The knife rested in its holder once more, and you took a deep breath. Ignoring this won’t do you any good, yet telling your lover he may perish in cold blood doesn’t seem exactly appealing. In fact the opposite. It pains you to even think about it.

Again, you’re up until morning once more, resting in the sun’s golden rays. Taking a deep breath, you entangle your fingers in your lovers hair, eyes lingering over his facial features. He slowly winked awake and rested his hands over yours, mumbling a ‘good morning’ under his breath.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I just woke up early, that’s all.” You sighed, pressing a kiss on his cheek. Of course, you didn’t want him to worry, he must be too busy himself anyway. For years you’ve been independent, so it won’t be any different now.

“There’s no need to lie. If there’s something the matter, I promise I’ll make it right.” The gentleness in his eyes soothed you, yet not enough to let those damned words spill out of your mouth.

….,

Word has spread that Gun has taken up Aikido. That day you prepared his lunch, and decided to watch him train. The smile on his face when he saw you sitting in the side warmed you, as you enveloped him in an embrace.

“Mum, youre here.” He cheered, doing small punches in the air to show off what he’s learnt.

“Of course. I’ve just been a little busy lately. Look, I made you tteokbeokki.” You smiled. It was your favourite thing to watch him being happy, knowing it might not last long.

“My favourite!” Gun licked his lips, clasping onto your hands. “I’ll train extra hard today, okay? Watch me, watch me!” He hadn’t seen you in ages. As a young boy, he wouldn’t understand, and doesn’t need to even take notice of your situation.

“It’s time for training.” The Kojima brothers, also one of the many supporting Shintaro’s leadership. As if they’re his personal bodyguards, they spread his propaganda like major gossip. Perhaps the news about the rebellion is being tossed around as the second passes. Shigeaki passes a distasteful glare at you before diverting Gun’s attention to the task at hand.

Since Gun was only young, they decided to teach one of his nephews how to do Aikido as well. They couldn’t personally spar with him because of the height, age and experience difference, and an intelligent opponent like Haruto would be well-suited.

Similar in age, the only difference was their upbringing. Haruto was a secluded boy who was subjected to the cruel opinions that he were useless because of Gun’s existence. Instead, his mother offered reading. In her view, if he couldn’t be the best at fighting, why not intelligence?

It almost reminded you of Shingen’s and Shintaro’s situation. He was born to succeed, while the other was made to cover up after his mess. Since Shingen were the oldest, he were given privileges like fighting and only sometimes playing around. Shintaro, on the other hand, were interested in martial arts yet never got the opportunity to persue it like he did. The notion that he were to protect his brother — no, dedicate his life to him — eventually seeped through the cracks, and jealousy took over. Nobody cared what Shintaro did, whether he ran away or not, he was always in the shadows. Shintaro always presumed he never struggled, having everyone by his side supervising him, yet little did he know he did.

He didn’t know that Shingen didn’t like training for so long, knowing his only purpose being only to prosper and become the heir to the Yamazaki clan. They only praised him for his fighting abilities, nothing else. This clan only critizied his interest in artistry’s and such, To leave a peaceful life and play games with his brother were his goals, yet Shintaro only treated him with coldness. The awkward, suffocating air between them never subsided, and still persists until today.

For centuries it was like this, and old tradition that you plan to cease from existence.

Haruto used strategic methods to trick his opponent, Gun, to the floor. What the Kojima brothers didn’t know was that intelligence and usage of technique was also important in a battle. Jonggun was trained to use brute force, which was in fact also crucial, yet he didnt have the ability to predict his next moment, therefore his next attack was based off of quick thinking. The way he grabbed his arm and flipped him into the floor resonated with you, something inside made you want to learn that too.

Then again, it would be against the rules.

“Auntie, did you see that?” Haurto smiled, pulling you in to a hug. He’s just a young boy too, why can’t he also train to be the best? Why are we, as humans, so dependent on a genetic abnormality?

“I’ll beat you next round!” Gun pouted, sticking his tongue out, teasing the other. Haruto made a snarky remark back, and they quickly started getting ready to spar for another round of Aikido.

Haruto’s mother doesn’t deserve him. No, not at all. You’ve noticed how he always comes to you for his troubles, advice and support. On the outside, she seems like the perfect mother — sparing only kind words to her only son, caring for him — yet in private, what does she do? Those bruises speak for themselves; just what has he gone through? At the occasion his long sleeves that he always wears slips up, a new one appears, and he shakes it off like it’s normal, changing conversation or distracting you while he pulls it down. Guilt washes over you as you couldn’t bear to admit that his experiences would haunt him for the rest of his life. Nobody deserves that.

“Mum! Are you watching?” Gun’s voice, steady with his hands in starting position, bring you back to reality. You clap and cheer with a smile, and watch each and every step. Haruto wins once more, and Gun slumps over towards you, disappointed.

“How about you two teach me how to fight in Aikido style, and I’ll give you the tteokbokki I made. Fair trade, huh?”.

…..,

In Korea, Gapryong’s Fist Gang rests in the comfort of their calm surroundings, under the warm light of a chandelier in the midst of a cafe. Warm light crests a warm atmosphere, the coffees fumes diffusing into the warm breeze the windows let in. Idle chatter

Jinyoung’s mysteriously studying human anatomy, sneering while holding his pencil ever-so intimately. Gapryong peers over his shoulder, taking a quick peek of the monstrosities he’s been hiding recently. Strangely scientifically accurate art pieces of the human skeleton, limbs, organs and veins. His obsession with skulls were disturbing, graphically capturing every hollow, rounded and crisp surface of the cranium. Teeth. After beating his victims, he’d pull out their teeth, collecting them in jars to preserve them. Not just any tooth, the wisdom tooth were his favourite. If he could, he’d slice each finger — in fact the whole hand — and inspect each and every crevice. Teeth were easier to steal and nearly as satisfiying.

No matter how close these four men were, fighting all their battles together, none of them knew the twisted layer under his skin that were slowly taking over.

Jinyoung has suspiciously became quieter recently. Before he’d wear a smile on his face and kick up conversation like it was nothing, offering hand wrestling or the sort. Now? He’s preferably keep to himself, not saying much and focusing on that sketchbook. The scratching across the page, eyes peeled, breath becoming more dragged by the second. Insanity? He’d be the last one you’d suspect. Someone as outgoing as him would never, or so the other three members thought.

Do they even know eachother?

“So, about the Yamazaki Clan,” Gapryong starts, finger tapping against the table. “The police showed up last time, and we had to flee. What a bore.”

“That’s right. I’m sure they’re dwelling in Korea still.” Elite yawned, breaking eye contact with a grin that didn’t seem so frustrated.

“I’m sure we’ll get em next time, y’know?” Gapryong bites his bottom lip, leaning back in his chair.

Silence dawned over the atmosphere, as if someone was wanting to say something, yet left it to the next person. Elite took a sip of his tea, not lifting his eyes off of his cup while tapping his foot on the wooden floor. You could never tell what thoughts were running through his mind. Its was only obvious by his course of actions, what steps he took and what blood he shed. Actions and foreshadowed speech were the way to figuring out his intentions, it were no use to just ask him, being such the perfect liar he is. Precisely, this is the reason they didn’t predict his newest project, designed to leave thousands of corpses, particularly the three bodies he wanted. And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. Call him greedy as you may, but a guy like him has no bounds to getting what he pleased.

Maybe it’s the trust between them all, why they didn’t suspect him. All these years must’ve meant something to all of them. To Gapryong, it was true friendship — who didn’t like someone to trust and keep company? To Tom, it meant loyalty, a group you could share anything to. Nowadays it felt like that idea has went astray. To Jinyoung, — well, the Jinyoung they used to know — it was exploring the world with the people you value most, laughing all night with a couple of drinks. To Elite… What was it to Elite?

He pulled up his glasses, scanning their troubled faces that avoided the other’s eyes.

Tom sighs, taking it upon himself. “You’ve all heard about that clan recently taking over…” Elite’s breath stopped, batting his eyes in disbelief. Jinyoung paused, letting out a sigh before continuing scribbling. Gapryong frowned, running his hands through his hair, swigging his chapstick out of his pocket.

“That’s right. It’s becoming worrying. I beat down some of the lapdog’s of the organisation, yet none of them will speak, no matter how much you torture them.” Jinyoung spoke softly, voice remaining neutral, yet his heart felt like it was the end of the Fist Gang. No, it can’t be over yet. Not before his plan takes place.

“Then we’ll have to talk their boss.” Gapryong spoke, stern, completely set on the idea. Whether it meant a simple polite introduction or a brutal brawl rid of mannerisms, his determination remained intact. Gapryong wasn’t the type to give up.

“Y’know what? Let’s drink tonight, I want to meet some lovely ladies before I do.” He smirks and passes a seductive wink over to the barista standing behind the till, watching her blush and rush to cover her reddened face. “Who’s with me?”

Tom agrees and Elite pauses for a second, eventually nodding. Jinyoung sits still, despite the wait for his reply. They all expected him to cheer and boost the atmosphere.. Yet nothing passed his lips.

“You’re not coming again, eh?” Tom breaks the silence once more, trying to look in his eyes for answers but to no avail, as his overgrown hair drapes over his face. Jinyoung shakes his head.

“Hey, you’ve been slouching all this time, shouldn’t you stretch? C’mon, it must be tiring. Loosen up a litle.” Tom tried to use the enthusiasm Jinyoung always used to and reach his hand over his shoulder. However before he knew it, his hand was squeezed with a strength he had never felt before. It felt as if his grip has restricted blood flowing into his hands, making them begin to numb.

Jinyoung’s gaze finally lifted over his sketchbook, and they finally got a glimpse of his face. His twitching eyes were an unusual shade of crimson red, each vein eeringly connecting from his sclera to the inside of his lower eyelid. Jinyoung always loved applying chapstick, loving the soft and glossy feeling upon his lips, except this time, they were chapped, with open, bleeding wounds and drool edging at the corner of his lips.

“I’m fine.” Jinyoung muttered, rubbing his tired, bloodshot eyes. No one muttered a word, staring with shock. What could they even say? Their friend — their once friend, as they could barely recognise the man he’s become — is now.. insane? Insane was the first word that came to mind to all of them. And all of them knew they weren’t far off.

….,

“Shingen. Haven’t you heard about that new clan has risen recently?” You ask, while raising your fork to your lips.

“Mmm. It seems so.” Shingen’s voice trails off, taking a sip of the transparent wine provided. “Perhaps it could be a problem. Especially since the Fist Gang and our clan are still under conflict… It is a relief we wasn’t arrested last time.”

“We’ve recovered well. Although a third party seems suspicious. Someone must be backing them, not every odd gang that shows up can be that strong and popular that quick.” You mention, and now that you think about it properly, hidden forces must at play here.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, huh? It won’t be a big deal. Like any other gang, they’ll fall to the hierarchy around here.” Shingen tries to reassure, using his authoritative tone to try and distract you from the concern written all over his face. He already knows they’re wiping out other small gangs and clan, then heading for the big prize. Nobody can be certain that they’re next, therefore it’s no prediction that they’re preparing their forces.

A third force making things complicated at a time like this cannot be a coincidence. At first, Shingen figured it must’ve been that cursed man’s Fist Gang, yet it’s unlikely they would. Someone’s pulling the strings behind the scenes, however there are no leads to show so. Only mere baseless intuition.

It makes you wonder — who? Each are loyal to their own side, especially during a tense time like this. They must’ve known a huge scale war between two major clans were going own, taking this into their advantage. Your eyes look down upon the food in front of you, then to your lover sitting opposite you.

Him, as a corpse? Dead, in front of you, his body cold. His pulse not throbbing anymore, breathe not passing his lips. Blood spilling under his body gallon by gallon, at an alarming rate. You could only cry as his eyes didn’t flutter open no more.

You’re overthinking again. Just another one of your tainted daydreams.

[ijwtbap]

ㅤㅤ★ㅤA date — Bakugō.

— Bakugō x GN!reader

You go on a date with an explosive man. Why? No one knows. You're y/n, so just enjoy it and don't ask questions.

a/n. I just didn't want to study, so I did this.

You were going on a date with Bakugō.

 

Your brain couldn’t wrap itself around how this had even happened. One minute, you were lying on the couch in the common room, scrolling through TikTok while trying not to let the algorithm convince you to buy another useless gadget. Next, Katsuki spawned out of nowhere and stared right through your soul.

 

He didn’t ask if you were busy this weekend—oh no, that would have been polite. Instead, he hit you with a tone that could cut the air, as if you’d personally insulted his ancestors.

 

Still, you managed to mumble something in response, though you had no idea what you even said. Why was this happening? You weren’t friends—not even acquaintances, really. Hell, you weren’t even in the same social group. The only words you’d ever exchanged before this were basic pleasantries, only from your part, of course. Yet here he was, staring at you with the intensity of someone trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube in under a minute.

 

“Meet me at the train station at 8,” he said. Just like that. Not very romantic in your opinion. And then he left, as if he hadn’t just dropped the most unhinged plan on your lap.

 

Eight. In the morning. On a weekend. What kind of psychopath plans a date at 8 a.m.?

 

You were sure this man was about to kill you. You were driving yourself insane on that couch, overanalyzing every interaction before that day. Your thoughts are cut off by the sudden, almost unnoticeable blush on his ears.

 

You were 100% sure you were on drugs, and you didn't even know what they smelled like.

 

Now, here you were, resting your back against the brick wall in the middle of a street. You had picked your best clothing, the ones that were rotting on the back of your closet, that you swore you would wear one day, the right day.

 

And today was that day.

 

You keep looking around and checking the time, worried that this was some type of elaborate prank. You already knew some of the past behaviours of Bakugō. Thanks to Izuku, who could never shut up about the guy.

 

You picked up your phone, and before checking for the 70th time that you didn't come to the wrong place, a hand touched your shoulder. If it weren't for all the training and constant fights with villains, you would've gotten scared.

 

You turn around to see the angry expression of Bakugō, but at this point you knew it was only his resting bitch face. You put the phone away and faced him, expecting something to come out of his mouth.

 

"Hi?" You said, unsure of how to start a conversation with a guy as gentle as a cactus.

 

Mr. Explosions didn't seem to want to speak, so you did it for him. As he gave you a nod and started walking, expecting you to follow him. You fixed your hair quickly and checked him out.

 

Weirdly, you both were equally dressed up. He had good fashion sense: everyone knew that. But you felt like he looked a little better: he was wearing cologne, his hair was less messy, and the shoes were brand new.

 

He had tried, and so did you. It was an actual date; you couldn't believe it.

 

"Where are we going?"

 

Katsuki didn't answer you. He only handed you a ticket. Your eyes widened as you read it. It was a concert of your favourite band/artist; it was so difficult to get the tickets to it, but he had them.

 

You would've married his ass at that exact moment. He knew how to cook, had money, and bought you tickets to the best concert of your life. He was your husband already. You could skip the dating step altogether.

 

As you two entered the stadium, you felt your entire body bursting into excitement. Some were selling stuff, and others were jumping around to see every inch of the place. The air of happiness of everyone was so contagious.

 

The entire concert you didn't stop singing. It didn't matter anymore if Bakugō was there or not; this was a one-life chance. At one moment you even took his hand to force him to participate on the wave.

 

Afterwards, you were over the moon. You had bought some stuff to remember this day, Katsuki paying for most of it; he hadn’t let you refuse.

 

You were so happy that you hadn’t noticed how you two were still holding hands or how your leg was on top of his and his hand rested on your thigh. You were comfortable, and that was all you needed to know.

 

"Did you see [artist]? They..." You continue babbling non-stop.

 

Exhausted, both of you had sat on a bench in a park close by. The 'rest for a couple of minutes' had become hours and the morning, afternoon. One of your hands was trapped with his as the free one surrounded his shoulders.

 

You kept talking until you caught his eyes looking at you almost endearingly. It was a strange smile: sweet, soft, with his cheeks a tone more dark than normal. Katsuki was enjoying this, and you were too...

 

"What?"

 

The sudden realization makes you quiet, and he notices immediately. How could he not? You had been boring his ear off the last three hours.

 

You didn't like Katsuki. Not when you first met him and he woke you up with the sound of an explosion, nor when he fought with Midoriya like a maniac. Or that time when he kicked your ass during the festival.

 

You didn't like him at all.

 

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to this date. Maybe it was because, out of everyone in class, he was the only one who noticed you were sick and told Aizawa. Or because he always made food exactly how you liked it, no matter how ridiculously picky you were sometimes. Or maybe it was this date, where he’d invited you to see a band/artist you loved, even though you knew he gave a shit about them.

 

Or perhaps it was the way he’d changed, quietly and without being asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Not for recognition, not for anyone else—just because.

 

You didn’t know why any of it mattered so much. You didn't know what it mattered to you.

 

“Next time, let’s go camping.”

 

Next time. The words slipped out before you could stop them. They weren’t a promise, not really. Just a polite response, something to fill the silence. Yet even as you said it, the words felt too easy, too natural, like part of you had already decided.

 

"Alright,” Katsuki said, his tone calm and sure, as though he’d been expecting you to suggest it.

1,137 Words.

ㅤ

[blarshwritezz]

Yanderr mafia boss x male reader prisoner, You are a rival of the mafia boss and your group was defeated by his group, thus becoming his prisoner.

Little did you know, he had lust for you and he decides that you will succumb to his desires whether you want to or not.

A new mafia boss coming right up! But no more new mafia bosses after this, guys. I know they're hot, but my masterlist will suffer also, changing it to leader to avoid confusion hope that's okay

Yandere Mafia Leader x Prisoner Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, noncon

How long has it been? For how many days have you been held captive here? You couldn't keep track. There weren't any windows or other ways to tell time in your damp cell.

You had to wonder if your comrades were doing alright. You weren't too close to most of them, but you were still worried. You hoped whatever they were going through wasn't much worse than what you were.

The leader of this mafia kept a constant watch on you. There was a single camera in your cell, which really wasn't strange, but you could often hear him right outside your door. He'd often come in and watch you "sleeping".

That was one of the more difficult things to do here; fall asleep. You really didn't struggle this much usually, but between the environment and the whole being watched thing, it wasn't easy.

You hoped you might finally get some rest tonight. Or...whatever time of day it was when you closed your eyes.

Your dreams almost came true...until they were crushed by the fact that you felt something choking you. You opened your eyes, taking only a few seconds to realize what was happening.

The leader was in here again, fucking your mouth! You tried to pull away, but he only gripped your hair and forced himself deeper down your throat.

He groaned as you gagged around his dick. It was almost enough to make him cum.

Oh who was he kidding? He didn't want to hold back. Not this time. With a few more thrusts, his seed was flowing down your throat.

He took both of your wrists in his hand as he pulled out, holding them tightly above your head. His free hand mover to roughly spread your legs apart.

"You're my new fuck toy, got that?" Without warning or preparation, he plunged into your ass with a pleasured groan. "I'll stop torturing you, long as you please me."

You didn't have a choice.

He was fucking you anyway, no care for how rough he was being. In fact, he seemed to like seeing you slightly in pain.

You couldn't get away, his grip on you was too tight. He smirked as you struggled, even though it was useless.

"Stop struggling so much or I'll just have to kill you, and fucking a corpse doesn't sound nearly as appealing."

He leaned down and started biting your neck, licking the blood clean as he did. He made sure the marks would be visible. You were his, everyone should know.

Despite knowing you shouldn't enjoy this, you couldn't stop the moans you made. You couldn't stop your cock from growing hard, twitching as it came closer to climax.

Finally, he slowed down, making you whine pathetically. "You want to cum? Think you deserve it? You just have to tell me you'll be mine. That your body belongs to me." He growled in your ear.

You couldn't! You refused, shaking your head.

"If you say so." He chuckled, pounding into you harder than before. Only to stop right as you were on the edge again.

And that became a cycle. He fucked you hard and stopped over and over until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. And of course, he couldn't be fair. While he denied you the right to cum over and over, he repeatedly filled your asshole with his seed. Over and over again until your insides were painted fully white.

All until you begged him for release. Saying anything for him to let you cum. Even that you and your body belonged to him.

"There's a good boy..." His hands released your now bruised legs and wrists, one moving to your nipple as the other made its way to your ass. In one swift motion, he pulled out and replaced his cock with his fingers. They curled in you, hitting all the right spots.

As his hands worked wonders on you, he took your cock unto his mouth and sucked you off. Pathetic as it was, it didn't take very long before you came. He moaned, the sound vibrating around your cock as he swallowed your cum.

"There we go. Not so difficult, right? And you get to cum like that whenever I want for the rest of your life~"

I think that one was pretty decent! or at least, I really hope so

[luvst4rc0r3]

“Slave”

Jinx x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Minor cursing, Angst, SELF HARM

WORD COUNT: 1607

NOTE: Reader has a grown up too fast. NOT PROOFREAD!!

PT.2

You loved your life. I was peaceful now. Compared to years before. You had Jinx, Isha, and your son, Micheal. Life is good now. You spent years of working 2 jobs to take care of your son and you “old family”

Since both of your parents were gone you had to step up as a parent even if you weren’t the oldest. You took care of every single one of your siblings. You cleaned the house, made food, and made sure you planned events accordingly. You were a mother. But you didn’t want to be. It was forced upon you.

Sure you would have not taken care of Micheal. Sure you could’ve not taken care of the rest of your siblings.

But if you didn’t then they would be helpless, and you were too kind to let them suffer with the loss of both of your parents.

You were happy for a while. But you had a breaking point. You were treated like a slave. You were expected to do everything. To keep everything together like tape. Even so…tape can break.

You were done but you knew you had to keep going on for your son. He was your life, your pride, the reason you’re still here.

You tried so hard to tape your’s and your son’s life but you just can’t. It was too much for you. All of the cooking, cleaning, scolding you had to do. And not even a thank you from anyone. You never heard a thank you from anyone you took care of. From your friends to your son, I mean how can you blame him when he was a baby, he eventually learned to say thank you, but even to your own flesh and blood. Your siblings never said “thank you” just took you for granted. You got used to it. It hurt but what could you do?

Till you met Jinx. You are working for Silco. A debt collector. You collected debt from people and places. You also were a minor nurse. From all the experience as a “mother” you were the perfect fit.

Jinx had a fever and since it wasn’t a major injury, Silco put you on the job to take care of her. So you did, you never expected a thank you. I mean it was Zaun. People don’t have manners. All they know how to do is fight.

But Jinx. She always appreciated you even if it didn’t seem like she did. Since the moment you took care of her. She may have not said “thank you” but you knew you were appreciated. You were right?

She made it her goal to care for you like you cared for her fever. So every time you went out to settle a debt she was right behind you making sure you were never hurt. Even though you can take care of yourself she just wants to be sure.

That leads you to start dating. Micheal liked her. I mean what kid wouldn’t like an adult who built them cool stuff. Can when Jinx had Isha you would be at her hideout 25/8 now that she and Micheal were friends.

You liked this life. Sure it has some bumps. Like you untalked about trauma and her hallucinations. You still love her.

One night though was particularly bad.

You were playing with Isha and Micheal while was…um…doing whatever at her work station. You were worried for her. She hadn’t gotten any sleep recently, also not eating that much.

When Isha and Micheal were getting settled down for just playing cards with each other you decided to go over to Jinx making sure she was ok.

“Hey hun, I recently saw that you haven’t been getting sleep or eating well. Why not take a break? To take your mind off of everything.”

“No not right now, pretty. I'm working on something.” She doesn’t even glance at you; her full attention is on the device she is making.

“Jinx this is not healthy please. I’m begging you take a break” you plead with her

“Doll not right now” she says firmly.

“Jinx you have to-“ before you can finish you hear her yell

“OH MY GOD! Why can’t you mind your damn business for once in your life! You’re hovering over everything I do. Nagging me what to do and what not to do! You’re just useless. Just leave me alone.”

That made you stop in your tracks. Nagging? Hovering? Useless? Jinx never said these words to you. It reminds you of how your siblings treated you. Like trash.

“Fine…” you started, “Micheal we are leaving,” you said firmly. Isha was immediately against the idea, shaking her head no and so was Michael.

“Just let the kid stay the damn night. You don’t have to dictate the kid’s life along with mine” Jinx stated coldly.

…

“Fine”

With that you turned around and left.

Your arrival to your apartment didn’t take that long. But the weight of everything came crashing down the second you shut the door. You came crashing down, sobbing.

You were sick. Sick of everyone treating you like you were too insignificant to waste their breath on. Sick of everyone taking you for granted.

You were just sobbing on the ground. Too tired to get up, too tired for anything. You eventually get up not to sleep, not go to the bathroom, you just grabbed a knife and alcohol then plopped yourself on the couch. You returned to your old habits. Of self harm and booze. You didn’t count how many times that knife went over your wrist and ankles. Too many to count.

You eventually pass out.

When you wake up you go to get Micheal but when you get there he begs (and Isha too) you to let her stay for multiple days since she has done it before. You were too tired to care that you said yes on 2 conditions. You go to the hideout once a day to make sure they were fine and that you would make the meals that they could eat because you doubt that Jinx gave them good food to eat. They agree and hug you before you turn and leave.

The next 2 weeks were spent in this order:

wake up with a hangover and lose of blood

Go over to Jinx’s hideout to make sure Micheal and Isha were alive, then give them food.

Go to work

Go to the bar to drink.

Go to a convenience store to get more alcohol and food for the kids.

Come home

drink and self harm till you pass.

That was your routine for a whole 2 weeks. Never breaking the schedule. You didn’t care anymore. You were too tired.

Since you were too tired you didn’t realize 2 kids were following you. They watched your routine for a couple days seeing that you were done with life and had no hope. They felt bad.

Jinx on the other hand. It looked like she was doing fine but inside she was slowly dying. The voices got to her but she ignored them while working. She never wanted to admit it, she missed you. Missed how you tell her to take care of herself, she missed your voice, your scent, your touch. Her ego was too big for her to admit it though.

Her routine for those 2 weeks were:

wake up

maybe eat something

make sure the 2 kids were alive

start working

Work until she crashed

Eventually the 2 kids realize that nothing would change unless they did anything.

So they convinced Jinx to apologize to you when you came over.

When you came over the next day they dragged you inside where Jinx was looking at her waiting.

she sighs when she sees you then turns to her work while talking “I’m sorry for the way I treated you a couple weeks ago” it sounded so half assed. Like it was written out for her. Wait.

You noticed a paper right next to her. In the children's handwriting it wrote exactly what she said. You were beyond pissed

Your lover didn’t even want to look at you while she talked from a script. You were too insignificant for her.

Everything you had been taping up for the past 2 weeks broke.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Now that got her attention.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you dumb? The the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” You yelled not letting her speak.

“You're not even looking at me while you talk from a script that you didn’t even make!”

“So? It's not like you do anything except nag.” She stated, not really caring.

“So? Did you just say so? I don’t do anything?” You were so stunned.

“I work day and night to take care of not only the kids but your ass too!” You continue yelling, “I work so hard to make sure we are fine financially. Not only that I put food on the table, comfort you when you are having a panic attack, take care of the kids when you don't want to, I make sure they eat, sleep, and breathe. I even make sure you eat, sleep, and breathe too!” “You don’t have to do that” “if I don’t do that then who will?! Certainly not you. You can’t even get up to wash your hair some days. You make me do it. Who would take care of the kids?! Not you. You can’t even provide them a decent meal! You can’t even afford one.”

She was stunned. She hates how she knew you were right. How the only reason she is alive is because you have taken care of her. She never even thanked you.

“So I’m sorry…” you started crying, “if I nag and dictate your life. If you don’t want me in it then fine.”

For once you put yourself first. You took Micheal’s hand and walked out, never turning back. You didn’t know if you were even going to get back with Jinx again.

HEYY!!! Guys I wrote this while I was pissed at my brother so idk if I want to read this. BUTTTT if YALL want a pt2 I can do it (I’ll probably do it either way)

But ya.

I want food