#heavy on painkillers especially

[piimpf]

Depeche mode instrumentals have such a special place in my heart I feel like they really show off just how musically talented they were and how advanced the sound of band was

[stephanleyhes]

How people actually work on their periods like??

[pomegranatesarchive]

Hi can u do a smau with max where reader is a doc for f1 and when max unfortunately has an accident she is one of the first responders(dont know what they are called!!!) And he just stares at her and its like love at first sight for him(he fell first and HARDER!!!!!) and everyone online could see it as well

Some teasing from other drivers as well

And proceed how u deem fit

Loved the sister in law one!!!!!!!

doctor lady | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x doctor!reader

summary: max never thought he would be happy getting a injury that puts him out of racing for three months, but when he has a doctor like you? he can’t help but be a little happy.

liked by landonorris, yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 816,074 others!

maxverstappen1: we are allllm good guys!!!!!!!!!!!!! we are aliveee wnd well babybyvy 🤘AND me and lanHOE (becuare he id a BOE) got a pretty doctory lady 🥰🥰🥰 she’s sooooooooioiiooooo nice and prety AND she made us NOT feel pain so we love her 😍😍😍😍😍

view comments below!

user1: they got him on those GOOD painkillers

user2: we’ve seen drunk max, but drugged max? a whole new level

landonorris: guy our lady doctor is soilioooooooooo prety 😍

maxverstappen1: HEY NO 😡😡 i alreadys called dibs!!!!!! she’s MY prety doctor lady. she game ME her instagran and i’m takin HER on a date!

yourusername: if my supervisor is reading this, i gave him my instagram and agreed going on a date with him because he was being difficult, started crying, and wouldn’t take his medication until i did.

maxverstappen1: HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL LOVE

user2: started crying??? max verstappen started crying???

user3: pain meds do that to you 🤕

user4: i need a video of that right now

user5: he is out of IT. i can’t wait till he wakes up and realizes what he’s done

charles_leclerc: happy you’re okay mate!

maxverstappen1: oh charles i have missed you dearly 🥰🥰 so happy you got 1st!!!!!!!

charles_leclerc: thank you max ❤️

maxverstappen1: i can wait for you to meet my future wife!!!!!!!! you’ll love her! she saved me life ❤️

charles_leclerc: someone please take his phone away

maxverstappen1: NOOOOO I JUST WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY FUTURE WIFR 😡

user6: max, charles is just trying to save you from the embarrassment

user7: when he sobers up, he either won’t give a shit and continue OR he’ll be so embarrassed and he’ll never show his face again

yourusername: everyone, please don’t pay mind to max, he is under very heavy drugs, and is not in a right state of mind. we have tried confiscating his phone, but he starts kicking and becomes difficult.

user8: i know this girl is scared for her job 😭

user9: having max as a drugged out patient seems horrible

user10: literal nightmare material

maxverstappen1: MYYY LOVVER HELLO

user11: good lord #freeyn

danielricciardo: i would say, i hope you recover, but i have a feeling you don’t want to recover?

maxverstappen1: I DONTTTT I NEVER EANT TO RECIVER BECAUSE THAT MEANS NOT SEEING MY BEAUTIFUL LADY DOCTOR SO NO!!! NO RECOVERY FOR ME

danielricciardo: screenshotting all of this for later 🤣

landonorris: i’m hungry, maxie can you tell lady doctor i’m hungry?

yourusername: you can talk to me lando. i’ll go get you something.

landonorris: NOOOO I CABR TALK TO THE LADY DOCTOR MAX SAID I CANT AND HE DAID IF I DID HESS GOING TO KILL ME AND I DONT WANT TO BE KILLED AHHHH

maxverstappen1: YOU FONT GET TO TALK TO MY PRETTY DOCTOR LADY IM GOING TO JILL YLY LANDO

user12: this is genuinely like the funniest shit ever 😭

user13: can’t believe in 10 years from now we’re going to look back at this and laugh

user14: 10 years?? bitch im LAUGHING RIGHT NOW

redbullracing; speedy recovery max! 💓

maxverstappen1: NOOOO NO SPEEDY RECOVERY NO RECOVERY FOR MAX

user15: head injury so bad he lost his love for racing

user16: on a serious note, his injury’s did seem pretty bad, especially his leg…

user17: honestly i’d be surprised if he returned to racing immediately

landonorris: maxie and me got separated :(((( 😞☹️😕😭🥺 lady doctor is is MEAN

yourusername: you two were arguing and disturbing the other patients.

maxverstappen1: DONT CALL MY LADY DOTCIT MEAN!!!!

user18: went from being worried to laughing out loud because wtf is this??

user27; lando and max crashing was NOT on my 2024 bingo card

user28: f1 having a big crash was not on MY 2024 bingo card

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, landonorris, 619,027 others!

redbullracing: unfortunately, due to last weeks crash regarding lando norris and max verstappen. max has been forced to take a three month leave of absence from racing, as he has severely fractured his lower leg. he has immediately started physical therapy, let’s wish him a speedy recovery ❤️‍🩹

view comments below!

maxverstappen1: what a shame 😕 truly saddened by this outcome 😞

user19: what??

landonorris: take a wild guess as to who’s going to be his doctor for three months?

user20: PRETTY LADY DOCTOR???

maxverstappen1: maybe 🥰

user21: we’ve entered the era where max does not gaf about racing as long as he gets to see yn

user22: does this mean he’s not winning the wdc?

user23: he still can, he just has to win basically every race after the 3 months, which isn’t exactly impossible for him

charles_leclerc; so sad for max!

user24: your ass does not feel sad for max 😭

user25: he has his eyes on the wdc!!!

user26: HE ACTUALLY HAS A CHANCE TO WIN BOW

maxverstappen1: @/yourusername, ready to take care of me for 3 months :D

yourusername: no

maxverstappen1: 😕

user27: HAHAHA

danielricciardo: LOSER

landonorris: HAHAH GET REJECTED

charles_leclerc: EMBARRASSING

oscarpiastri: that hurt to read

maxverstappen1: SHUT UP WHO ASKED YOU

user28: tbh i wouldn’t be excited to have max as a patient for 3 whole months with how he acted that night in the emergency room

user29: that man is secretly crazy and you can’t convince me otherwise

user30: i love how max is clearly like head over heels for yn, but she can’t date him because he’s her patient 😭

user31: she can’t?

user30: NO!!! that’s unethical, she can date him after the 3 months but not during

user32: that not being common knowledge to some people is concerning…

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, yourusername, and 917,027 others!

maxverstappen1: day one of physical therapy a success ✅

view comments below!

landonorris: so, how many times did she reject you today?

maxverstappen1: ZERO.

yourusername: 10**

landonorris: TENN??????

maxverstappen1: i just don’t understand why she won’t say yes 😞

yourusername: because it’s severely unethical and will get me fired

maxverstappen1: so what i’m hearing is that you’ll go out with me when i’m no longer your patient?

user33: let the countdown begin

charles_leclerc: missed you at the race today!

maxverstappen1: no you didn’t

charles_leclerc: no i didn’t! MAX IT FEELS SO GOOD TOO WIN

maxverstappen1: yeah i KNOW.

yourusername: don’t worry charles, he was watching you during his whole therapy session, and cheered so loudly when you won that we got complains from patients on the other side of the building!

charles_leclerc: I KNEW IT!!!

maxverstappen1: you said you wouldn’t tell anyone yn 😕

user34: it’s so…unsettling seeing max be so publicly affectionate

user35: RIGHT?? like why is he so open about this??

user36: he has no shame…

yourusername: i told you to stop taking pictures of me while i’m working

maxverstappen1: but you just look sooooo pretty

danielricciardo: she doesn’t want you bro

maxverstappen1: SHUT UP

user37: she’s stronger then me, because if i had max verstappen down bad like that?

user38: no literally, i would’ve made him mine the same day we met

user39: why is max posting regular pictures?? it’s weird

user40: he’s trying to impress yn

user39: well he’s going about it all wrong. because these photos just don’t match?? cat, hospital, and then a crappy photo of a therapy room?? horrible horrible HORRIBLE

user41: damn…

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 619,017 others!

maxverstappen1: 2 months down…1 more to go!

view comments below!

user42: HE IS COUNTING DOWN

user43: WE KNEW IT!!!

landonorris: i can’t belive you tricked me into going to a photo shoot for you

maxverstappen1: that is not what happened.

landonorris: you told me we were going golfing, next thing i know i’m watching you get your picture taken like 92884 times 😑

maxverstappen1: just say your jealous

landonorris: OF WHAT???

user44: he’s getting better at being aesthetic

user45: he’s learning!!

user46: are we all going to skip past the fact that max, a hater of everything, had a whole as photo shoot for his instagram?????

maxverstappen1: yn told me i should post more photos of myself for the instagram

user47: so you had a whole photo shoot????

maxverstappen1: yes

user48: oh he’s in love

danielricciardo: looking good max 😍

maxverstappen1; thank you for the support daniel!

landonorris: was that a dig to me?

maxverstappen1: yes.

landonorris: I WAS EXPECTING GOLF

yourusername: looking good max

maxverstappen1: really??? you really think so??

yourusername: yes (with the upmost professionalism)

maxverstappen1: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

user49: why did max just add “yn thinks i look good 🥰” to his bio

user50: LMAOO I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING???

user49: no 😭 he very literally put “yn thinks i look good 🥰” in his bio

user51: why does it look like max is in the doctor training room?

maxverstappen1: because i am!!

user51: THEY LET YOU IN THERE????

yourusername: my boss is a huge f1 fan. so he lets max do whatever he wants 🙄

user51: i’m sorry that’s so funny 😭

user52: does max just follow her around all day??

yourusername: pretty much, yeah

user53: you have no idea how much i want to be you

charles_leclerc: wow max looking good

maxverstappen1: thank you charles

charles_leclerc: aren’t you going to put “charles thinks i look good” in your bio?

maxverstappen1: i don’t care about you enough for that

user54: DAMN THATS COLD

user55: those cats are so cute 🥺

. . .

. . .

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 914,078 others!

maxverstappen1: guys i did!!!! i got a date with the pretty doctor lady 🥰🥰

view comments below!

user56: when he falls first and harder >>

user57; this man is literally obsessed with yn it’s insane

landonorris: beat me too it

landonorris: THIS IS A JOKE PLEASE DONT KILL ME

maxverstappen1: nothing funny. i didn’t laugh. you aren’t funny.

landonorris: 😕

user58: WE CHEERED!!!

user59: i still think it would be funny if she just said no even after the 3 months

yourusername; i thought about it, but he’s rich and pretty so 🤷‍♀️

maxverstappen1: pretty :D

user60: she’s so pretty

maxverstappen1: like i’ve been SAYING.

user61: i’ve never seen a man so down bad before

user62: it’s unnerving

user63: a doctor, pretty, and funny?? max hit the jackpot

user64: they both hit the jackpot 😒 it pisses me off

user65: LMAO WHY??

user64: seeing people live the life i want makes me unexplainably mad

danielricciardo: you’re joking right? she’s not actually dating you?

maxverstappen1: what’s that supposed to mean

danielricciardo: it means she’s too good for you @/yourusername are you being held hostage

yourusername; yes

danielricciardo: OH I KNEW IT. DONT WORRY HELP IS ON THE WAY

maxverstappen1: you guys are mean.

yourusername: this means i can never be your doctor again

maxverstappen1: what if once day, on my way home i crash, and its a big crash with smoke and fire, and i get taken to the hospital but i refuse to let anyone touch me that isn’t you, would you still not help me?

yourusername: there’s just something so undiagnosed about you

user65: HAHAHA

user66: max is just so unexplainable

charles_leclerc: are my eyes deceiving me or did she finally say yes 

maxverstappen1: SHE SAID YES

charles_leclerc: OH YEAH OH YEAH I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT BUDDY

maxverstappen1: OH YEAH OH YEAH

user67: my lestappen heart 💔

. . .

notes: enjoy this while i spend the rest of my night learning how to play the sims

thank you for requesting!!

[blushpawss]

period cramps

warning: fluff — soft!sylus taking care of you during your 1st day of period 🩷

main acc: @sushiyuzu

the cramps hit hard, making you double over in bed, clutching at your lower abdomen as the pain radiated through you. you’d tried everything—heating pads, painkillers, lying in every position you could think of—but nothing seemed to ease the discomfort. it was one of those days where your period felt like a heavy weight on your body, and no matter how hard you tried to push through it, you just felt drained.

sylus had been in the other room, giving you space, but it wasn’t long before you heard the soft padding of his feet as he came to check on you. you were curled up on your side, wrapped in blankets, but your face must have given away how much pain you were in.

he sat down on the edge of the bed, his crimson eyes filled with concern. “still bad?” he asked softly.

you nodded, unable to muster the energy to say much. the cramps had you feeling so weak that even answering felt like a chore. instead, you just closed your eyes and tried to breathe through it.

sylus didn’t push for more. instead, he slipped off his shoes and settled himself next to you, his large body filling the space on the bed. without a word, he placed his warm hand on your lower back, rubbing slow circles that were so gentle, you could almost melt into the touch.

“let me help,” he whispered, his voice soothing.

you sighed, grateful for his presence. the way he rubbed your back felt like he was trying to massage the pain away, his hand firm but careful. “it’s just really bad today,” you finally murmured, your voice strained. “nothing’s helping.”

sylus frowned, a flash of frustration passing through his eyes. “i hate seeing you like this,” he admitted, his silver hair falling into his face as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “i wish i could take it all away.”

you felt the weight of his words in the warmth of his touch. he always hated seeing you in pain, especially when there was nothing he could do to fix it. but even in moments like this, when all he could offer was comfort, he did it with so much care that it almost made the pain more bearable.

he stood up briefly, disappearing into the bathroom before returning with a fresh heating pad. he carefully placed it against your lower stomach, adjusting it until it was in the perfect spot. the warmth immediately began to soothe the cramps, at least a little.

“here,” he said softly, sitting back down beside you. “try this.”

you gave him a weak smile, grateful for the gesture. “you’re spoiling me,” you mumbled.

“you deserve it, sweetie,” he replied without hesitation. “especially when you’re feeling like this.”

he lay down beside you again, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist, pulling you close against his chest. his body was warm, solid, and the way he held you made you feel safe, like nothing else mattered but making sure you were okay.

“you know,” he said after a few moments of silence, “i read that massaging certain spots can help with cramps.”

you raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him through tired eyes. “did you really?”

he smirked, his crimson eyes twinkling with amusement. “i did. i looked it up earlier.”

“i can’t believe you looked that up,” you muttered, feeling a soft laugh escape your lips despite the pain.

“i’ll do whatever it takes,” he said with a shrug, then started gently kneading your lower back in slow, steady motions. “is this okay?”

you let out a long breath, feeling the tension in your muscles begin to ease under his touch. “yeah,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “that’s perfect.”

his hands worked magic, applying just enough pressure to relax your aching muscles without causing more discomfort. he was slow, deliberate, as if every touch was meant to ease your pain, and you could feel yourself starting to relax under his care.

“just let me take care of you, sweetie,” he murmured softly, his voice low and comforting. “you don’t have to do anything right now. just rest.”

you didn’t argue. the combination of the heating pad and sylus’ gentle massage was starting to lull you into a peaceful state, your body finally beginning to loosen up after hours of tension. the pain was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp, dulled by the warmth of his hands and the feeling of him beside you.

he shifted slightly, pulling you closer so that your head rested against his chest. his heartbeat was steady, a calming rhythm that made you feel more grounded. “i’ll stay right here,” he whispered, his lips brushing the top of your head. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you smiled faintly, your hand resting lightly on his chest as you snuggled into him. “i’m lucky to have you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“no,” sylus replied softly, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “i’m the lucky one.”

the two of you lay there in comfortable silence, the world outside forgotten as he held you close. the pain might not have gone away completely, but having sylus there, his warmth, his touch, made it so much easier to bear.

“just rest,” he whispered again, his voice so soft, like a lullaby. “i’ve got you, sweetie.”

[thefailedabortioon]

Jinx, Vee and Caitlin's reaction to a serious injury (×female reader) 🙏🏻

Warnings: heavy wounds, lotsa blood

requests are open!

JINX

she’d get overwhelmed just by looking at your wounds. horrified at whatever might’ve happened to you and also angry at your recklessness for getting hurt this badly (PISSED at whoever did this)

furrowed eyebrows and quivering lips, she’ll snarl at you.

the blood gushing from your sides are already sending her into a spiral, panicked breaths are squeezing out of her lungs every single second.

jinx grabs bandaids and painkillers hastily, muttering to herself while tightening the wraps around your scars. she’ll mumble a “sorry” from the sudden pressure she’d placed, fidgeting with the knots and ties

“what are you- what were you-?!” if her brows couldn’t furrow any further, they did. “idiot.” she growls under her breath, “idiot!”

finally, jinx raises her eyes to look at you. theres nothing but worry encircling them into a whirlwind of nervousness. “take these. it’ll soothe the pain” she hands you painkillers and lukewarm water.

after patching you up, she will NOT leave you alone.

she’d sit beside you, legs hanging down from the side of your bed.

absolute non-stop pestering. “When did this happen?” “You see who did this?” “give me a description, i’ll take care of them.”

VI

she is furious. absolutely FURIOUS.

as in “vision turning red” kinda furious. my girl is reckless, your well-being wont be the first thing on her mind

but it WILL be her main focus for the next few weeks

who in their right mind would do this to you? of all people?

you didn’t deserve to get hurt, but whoever did this does.

she’s desperate to start patching your wounds. shes used to fixing herself up from the things that happened to her while she was in stillwater, though shes never done it to anyone else but herself so shes downright nervous.

vi knew she could handle serious injuries pretty well but she doesnt know how much you can tolerate pain. shes doing everything SUPER carefully

every little one of your smallest winces or grunts makes her immediately retract her hand from you

“are you okay?” “you hurt?”

after your properly dressed in the bandages, she’ll lay down by your side (she isnt touching you,) but shes still there. vi caresses your cheek, eyes softening at the sight of you. she plants a kiss on your forehead, grin spreading over her lips. she really glad youre okay.

but in the back of her mind she’s planning multiple ways to find who fucked you up this badly. all the gears in her head are turning to think of every possible “suspect” that could’ve done this to her sweetheart

CAITLYN

the look on her face is almost as bad as you look right now. she’s frightened.

despite that, shes more level-headed than careless. she’ll focus on more important things. You.

immediately shes rushing by your side, carrying you to somewhere more safe for your injuries. she spots her bed, let her sheets get stained by the blood dripping down, they can always be washed again.

once your settled properly, shes diving to her bathroom cabinets; everything is being tossed around on the hardwood floor while she searches for a medkit.

enforcer training had her prepared for situations like these, patching you up might not have been easy because of the look of pain in your eyes, but it was done faster than you thought it would be.

“does it hurt when i touch this?” “how’s your head? is it alright?”

the detective inside her came pounding with questions, everything quickly turned into an interrogation.

when, where, who, and why?

she understands you might not wanna talk in this situation so she’ll back off with the questions and start tending to you.

seriously, you’re treated like a princess in this household. you knew cait was well-off, but you didnt realize she was well-off.

there are people coming to your side for every request you ask.

especially caitlyn, she brought herself to cook you a proper meal for you to gain back the nutrients and energy you’d lost. anything you ask for.

the pampering won’t stop until you finally tell her to.

after that, she reports what happened to you to higher authorities, but if they’d rather prioritize other things over you, she’ll handle whoever did this herself.

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Taking care of Jude after his shoulder surgery and trying to comfort him from the idea of not playing for 2 - 3 months, he is out of mood but you know how to cheer him up (maybe a bj)😉

Remedy

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Jude is sulking because of his injury and you have the perfect remedy to cheer him up.

���𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 3.1k

Warnings! NSFW! FLUFF, slight domestic fluff, pouty Jude, he's hurting🥺 SMUT (18+), oral sex (m receiving),

He's quiet.

Has been since you came back from the hospital. The silence that now wraps around him is different from the comfortable, familiar quiet you used to share. It's thick, heavy, and it feels like a dark cloud is following you around.

He doesn't talk much. You're not sure if he even wants to. Every time you try to bring up something about the surgery or football, he just shakes his head and change the subject. You're starting to get worried; this isn't like him. You've seen him upset before, but he was never like this.

The doctor had said he'd be fine after some rest. That it was normal to feel this way after the surgery, especially given the length of his recovery time. Two to three months out of the game was going to be tough for anyone, let alone someone as dedicated as Jude.

You knew that this was going to be hard for him, but you were ready to support him. If that meant taking care of him and doing all the things he hated, then you were happy to do it.

You knew it wasn't just about the surgery, or the recovery time. It was everything else. Being away from his teammates, away from the game, it was hard for him. He felt useless. Inactive.

The only thing that brought him a little joy was you. He always smiled when you were around, and you were always happy to see him. Even if he was still in pain, even if he wasn't talking much. You could see it in his eyes. He was happy to see you.

And right now, he needed you more than ever.

The room is dimly lit when you walk in, casting a soft, amber glow over the furniture. The faint hum of the air conditioning mingles with whatever show he's watching on the TV.

Jude lies in bed, his left shoulder heavily bandaged and propped up with pillows. His face is still pained, but he's not using the morphine anymore. He's trying to tough it out, and it makes your heart ache to see him like that.

You sit down on the edge of the bed near him, smoothing the blankets with your hand. The sheets are crinkled, the bed is a mess, and you think about making it for him, but you know he doesn't want you to fuss. So, instead, you just smooth the blankets down, running your fingertips lightly over the fabric.

His eyes flicker over to you, his mouth curving into a small smile. “Hey,” he says, his voice raspy from lack of use.

You smile back, leaning over him. “Hey,” you say, pressing your lips softly against his forehead. He closes his eyes at the touch, a sigh escaping from between his lips.

“Do you want anything?” you ask, running your palm down his arm. “Painkillers? A glass of water?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I'm fine.” He smiles weakly at you and you nod.

“Are you watching anything interesting?” you ask, gesturing to the TV. The show is some sports documentary, something you're sure he's seen a thousand times before. But it brings him comfort so you hold back from making any comments.

He shakes his head again, reaching up to run his fingers over your cheek. “Just background noise,” he says. “I missed you,” he murmurs, pulling you close.

You settle next to him, the warmth of his body a welcome contrast to the coolness of the room. His touch is gentle, almost fragile, as though he's afraid to press too hard. Afraid of being hurt. You wrap your arm around him carefully, mindful of the bandaged shoulder.

You smile, running your hand down his side. “I missed you too,” you say.

He hums, turning his head to press a soft peck to your lips. The first kiss he's given you all day. “I'm sorry,” he whispers as he pulls away, his hand sliding up under your shirt.

You look up at him, confused. “What for?”

He sighs, his brow furrowing slightly. “For being a dick.”

You frown, shaking your head. “You weren't a dick,” you say.

He rolls his eyes, giving you a look. “Don't lie to me.”

You shake your head again. “I'm not lying,” you say, cupping his jaw in your palm. “I know you're upset, and you're not handling it well, but you weren't a dick.” He looks away, his shoulders hunching forward slightly.

He lets out a deep breath, like he’s been holding it in for too long. “It’s just,” he starts, but the words seem to get stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth. He lets out a heavy sigh, his good hand clenching into a fist. "I just… I hate feeling useless. Watching the team from the sidelines, not being able to play… it's killing me."

You nod, understanding more than he realizes. “I know,” you say softly. “And you're not useless. You're healing. But you’re going to get through this. You’re the strongest person I know.”

He looks at you, his eyes tired but appreciative. “I don’t feel strong,” he admits. “I'm scared” his eyes look distant. “I feel like I’m losing everything that made me who I am.”

The honesty in his voice hits you like a wave, and you take his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone,” you tell him, your voice steady. “You’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get through this together.”

He looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. You can see the worry in his gaze, the fear and the uncertainty. It breaks your heart to see him like that.

You give him a soft smile and press your lips to his once more. This time, he meets you halfway, his mouth opening to let you in. He sighs into your mouth, his arm wrapping tight around your waist as he deepens the kiss.

His kisses are slow and tender, careful not to touch your lips too hard. You let him lead, letting him control the pace as you kiss.

You press closer to him, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. His hands roam freely down your back, squeezing your ass and pulling you into him.

He breaks away from you, his breath hot against your face. “I missed kissing you,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. You laugh, and he smiles. It’s the first real smile he’s given you today.

“I missed kissing you too,” you say.

The room is quiet once more, but this time it feels different. The air is lighter, the atmosphere changed. The cloud that had been following you around has vanished, and in its place, there’s a sense of relief. Of calm.

Jude’s fingers trace light patterns on your back, a touch that is both tender and tentative. His breath, warm and uneven, mingles with yours as you stay close. You can feel the faint tremor in his hold, a reminder of the pain he's so desperately trying to mask.

He’s trying to be strong, to fight through this.

You wish you could take all his pain away. You think for a moment, searching for a way to lift his spirits. An idea forms in your mind, and you smirk. You know just what he needs to cheer him up.

The doctor strictly forbade sex for the sake of Jude's quick recovery. But he never said anything about Oral sex. You internally cackle at your own deviousness.

You break away from him, leaning back to give him a sly smile. He doesn't see you, eyes still trained on the TV in front of him.

You smirk, letting your gaze wander down his body, letting your eyes linger on his crotch. You can just barely see the outline of his cock in his grey sweatpants. He's soft, not aroused, but that's okay. You can change that.

You lean up on your elbow, propping yourself up so you can get a better view. He shifts next to you, his eyes flicking to you. His mouth opens to say something, but he catches sight of the hungry look in your eyes and closes it again.

He smiles, raising his eyebrows. “You’re staring,” he says, his tone amused.

You nod, not ashamed. “I am.”

His smile grows, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

You smirk, letting your gaze travel further down his body. “About sucking your cock,” you say, watching as his expression changes from amused to surprised, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline.

He swallows hard, his eyes dropping back to your mouth. “I didn’t…” he starts, trailing off when he catches the look in your eyes. You smirk, biting your lip, and he trails off once more.

He looks up at you, his face still surprised, but there’s something else there now too. Desire.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Do you want me to?” you ask, watching as he shifts next to you, adjusting his position in the bed.

He licks his lips, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard, trying to act nonchalant. “I mean,” he starts, “if you want to.”

You grin, leaning over to press your lips to his once more. This time, you kiss him harder, more urgently. He groans into your mouth, his good arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. You're careful of his shoulder, mindful of the bandage.

He lets you lead, following where you take him. Your hands slide up under his shirt, your fingers tracing over his abs. He's lean, his muscles defined from hours spent working out. He shivers beneath your touch, his cock hardening in his pants.

You pull away from him, giving him a heated look as you straddle him. You lean up, running your tongue over his bottom lip before biting it gently. He groans, his hips jerking up into yours.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to watch the trajectory of your hand.

You chuckle, leaning back to run your palm over his cock. He lets out another low groan at the touch, his eyes closing as he throws his head back. “That feels so good,” he says.

You hum, your fingers brushing over the waistband of his pants. He shifts beneath you, his cock twitching in response. You lean over him, running your lips down his neck. “Do you want my mouth around your cock?” you ask.

He gasps at the question, his eyes flying open. “Jesus,” he says, his voice hoarse. He nods, his head bobbing up and down. “Fuck yeah, I do.”

You grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his neck. “Good,” you say.

His hands slide up under your shirt, running over your back. “Take your clothes off,” he says, his voice still hoarse. “I want to see you.” You smirk, leaning up to pull your shirt over your head.

He groans, running his hand up over your breast. “Fuck,” he says, squeezing your nipple between his fingers. “You’re beautiful.”

You smile, leaning back to take off your pants. “I’m going to take my clothes off,” you say, sliding the fabric down your thighs. “But then, you have to take your pants off.” He nods, his hand slipping down your stomach as you slide off the bed.

He shifts next to you, his eyes following your body as you move. You kick your pants off and stand up, your fingers hooking into his waistband as you lean over him. “Your turn,” you say, pulling his sweats down.

He lifts his hips for you, wincing slightly as you tug the fabric over his cock. The skin sensitive from the lack of use in the past few weeks. “Sorry,” you say, trying not to hurt him.

He shakes his head, smiling. “I’m fine,” he says.

You hum, leaning over to press your lips to his thigh. He shudders beneath you, his hand sliding up to rest on your head. “Please, baby! Don't tease.” he says, his voice a low whine.

His cock is hard, standing straight up from his body. The head is a deep, angry red, his veins visible under the skin. A drop of precum glistens on the tip, and you can't help but lean closer, your tongue darting out to lick it away.

He moans at the touch, his hips jerking upwards. You smirk, running your tongue around the head before licking down his shaft. He groans again, his head falling back onto the pillows.

You lean down further, licking the sensitive spot underneath the head. His hips jerk up again, his thighs clenching around you. He groans, his hand tightening in your hair. “Fuck, that feels good.”

You hum, licking him once more. You want him to feel good, to take his mind off the pain and the surgery. You want him to focus on the pleasure.

Your fingers trail down his shaft, curling around him to hold him in place. Your tongue moves faster, flicking against the tip of him before licking down to his balls. They’re heavy and swollen, hanging loose under him. He groans when you touch them, his hips twitching with each brush of your lips.

You tease him for a minute, licking and sucking at his balls before moving back to the head. You swirl your tongue around it, sucking the head into your mouth. He groans again, his hips rocking into your mouth.

You take him deeper, sucking harder as you bob your head on him. His hips jerking upwards as he groans. His hand tightens in your hair, holding your head in place. “Fuck sweetheart. Take me deeper, be a good girl,” he gasps, his cock twitching in your mouth.

You hum around him, sucking harder as you move your head faster. He groans again, his thighs shaking under you. “You're so good at this baby. Don’t stop, please,” he says.

You don't plan to, sucking him deeper into your mouth. Your lips slide down his shaft until they meet his trimmed pubes at his base. The dark hairs dust your nose, tickling it. Your mouth is stretched around him, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat.

You swallow, your throat closing around him. He gasps, good hand coming to cover his face, the pleasure too much for him. His shoulder starts to ache behind his jerky movements but he doesn't care. He wants more. “Fuck, that feels good,” he says, his hips rocking up into you.

You pull back, your mouth popping free of him. His cock is shiny, slick with your spit. “Gonna make you cum down my throat,” you say, looking up at him. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide as he looks down at you.

"Yeah?" he whispers, his voice a low growl. "Go ahead then. Take me all the way in that pretty little mouth. Gag on it." His words send shivers down your spine, your own body growing hot in response to his. You're soaked, your pussy dripping wet and aching to be filled.

You lean down, sucking him back into your mouth. His head falls back, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

You gag on him, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Tears fill your eyes as he fucks into you, using your mouth as he likes. He’s rough, his hips slamming upwards to meet you as you bob your head on him.

You gag again, drool soaking his cock as you choke on him dripping down his thighs. It's messy, wet. Just the way he likes it He groans, his cock twitching in your mouth. “Oh shit, baby, I’m close,” he says.

You suck him deeper, your tongue working overtime as he fucks into your mouth. He’s getting closer, his movements growing more erratic as he teases the edge. You can feel the pleasure building in him, the muscles in his thighs tensing under you.

He’s so close now, his cock twitching in your mouth as he gasps. “Baby,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’m about to come.” He moans again, his hips jerking up to meet you.

You swallow around him, taking him deep. He cums down your throat, his cock jerking in your mouth. His hips slam upwards, filling your mouth with his seed. You swallow it down, taking it all as he comes.

When he's done, you pull back, gasping for breath. He relaxes back on the bed, his head falling back on the pillows. His chest is heaving, and a light sheen of sweat is covering his skin.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice breathless. “That was so good.” His cock is softening now, tip red, pulsing and glistening with spit.

He sighs again, his eyes opening to look down at you. “Thanks baby,” he says, his voice low and soft. “That was amazing.”

You smile, crawling up his body to rest your head on his chest. “Welcome,” you say, kissing his skin. “I’m sorry again, about your shoulder. It's going to suck not being able to play.”

He hums, his good arm coming to wrap around you. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head is a soothing. His breath, steady and deep, caresses your cheek, and you can feel the faint pulse of his heartbeat as you nestle in closer.

“I’ll be alright,” he says. “I just need some time.” His fingers run through your hair, his touch comforting. You lean into him, your body relaxing. You’re comfortable here, wrapped in his arms.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, looking up at him. His eyes are closed, his chest still rising and falling in a slow rhythm. “Jude?”

He opens his eyes, looking down at you. “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I could eat.”

You smile, crawling off the bed. “I’ll go make some lunch,” you say, bending down to pick your pants up off the floor. His hand slides up the back of your thigh as you stand. You shiver, your body responding to the touch.

You straighten, pulling your pants on, still shirtless. “Don't even think about it,” you say, laughing watching his eyes glued to your chest. “Your shoulder needs to heal.”

He sighs, flopping back onto the bed. “Fine,” he says, grumbling.

You laugh again, pulling your shirt on. “Be good,” you say, walking over to kiss him. “I’ll bring your food up.”

He nods sulking, but smiles. “Love you,” he says, his voice soft and low.

You smile, leaning down to kiss him again. “Love you too,” you say. You walk out of the room, him watching your ass sway with each step. He’s smiling when you leave, the pain and frustration forgotten.

For now, at least, he’s happy. And that's all that matters.

-Bianca🌻

[existential-crisis-of-the-mind]

The Bat catches a cold (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Prompt: The Bat never falls sick, or so he thinks. (2k~ words)

Bruce Wayne does not fall sick. 

The man simply can’t afford to. He could not possibly disturb the precarious balance he’s achieved between his double life of running a Fortune 500 company by day and fighting criminal masterminds by night. 

So his recent sneezing fits must be a result of allergies, it’s pollen season after all. And those dull headaches he’s be experiencing the past couple of days? Probably just a lack of sleep,  the Riddler’s recent antics had resulted in some long and arduous nights. 

Today he woke up feeling kind of feverish, body aching all over. But he’s got to push through, there’s an important board meeting he can’t miss. Especially not over something as silly as a common cold.

“Alfred, did you put the kettle on for coffee?” Bruce’s horse voice calls out, as he all but staggers through the hallway on his way to the kitchen. A little caffeine and a painkiller should do the trick.

As he approaches the archway to the spacious open plan kitchen, he blinks away the final wisps of sleep encroaching his vision, only to notice that instead of his trusted butler Alfred its his partner puttering about.

“Alfred’s out on an errand, I’ve put the kettle on but it’s gonna be- Oh” 

You pause in your words as you look up from the counter, taking in the state of your husband.

Eyes rimmed red, hair scuffled and messy, a far cry from the smart slicked gelled back style you’re used to.

Also is he still in his pyjamas? It’s ten past nine, he’s should be in his starched white collar and dress pants by now. 

“Right. Could you make me a cup of coffee please? I’ve got to leave for the office in ten” he rasps before succumbing to a heavy cough. 

“Uh- I don’t think you should be going to work in your current state” you comment as you cross the counter to examine him better.

He shakes his head in hopes of ridding himself of the pounding headache. Bad idea. Now he feels like the room is swimming around him.

As he sniffles through his congested nose, you take in his slouched stance and tired profile. Yeah there’s no way he can go to work in this state.

As you place a hand on his forehead to check his temperature a soft gasp escapes you, he’s burning up. 

“Bruce you’re running a high fever, you need to rest” you chastise. Did he really think he could hobble into work in this state?

“I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather” he groans in protest, though his statement was severely undermined by him leaning against the kitchen archway for support. 

This was quiet typical of Bruce, he was stubborn as an Ox when it came to admitting he needed rest. You give him an unimpressed stare, you were not buying it.

“Really now? Is that why you’re slowly sliding down the archway? Because you’re the pinnacle of  good health?” 

That causes him to abruptly stand up, he sways in place for a moment, “I told you I’m fine it’s just a-“ 

And that’s all he can muster before he begins to fall forward, limbs seemingly in free fall. 

“Bruce!” you exclaim as you rush forward to steady him. But he’s much heavier with his limp muscles, so instead your valiant attempt ends up with the both of you slowly going down as a heap onto the hardwood floor.

But that’s still marginally better than him falling flat on his face so you’ll count it as a win. 

“Okay, time to get you back to bed. Can you stand up?” You pat his cheek as his head rests in your lap, hoping that will wake him up from his haze.

“No need for all that, I just need a moment to catch my breath- I’m fine” 

Though he voices his protest, his hand clumsily lands over your own, relishing the feeling of your cool palm against his hot face.

“Oh of course, you just need a minute to lie on the floor and then you’ll be able to crawl to work. Silly me for not realising” you remark dryly.

Bruce was usually a fan of your sarcasm, except when it was directed at him. He attempts to glare at you in response, but only manages to blink owlishly instead given his current state.

An exasperated sigh escapes you. You knew he was gonna be bull-headed about this, asking for help wasn’t exactly a part of Bruce’s lexicon. So it’s time for a bit of an ultimatum.

“Right so there are two ways we can go about this. Either you let me help you back to the bed where you will rest for the remainder of the day” you state, making sure you placed stern emphasis on the ‘rest’ part.

His face scrunches at the prospect, the concept of rest foreign and unappealing to him.

“Or if you won’t listen, I guess I won’t have much choice but to get Dick and Jason to carry you to bed” 

You had to bite back a laugh at the way his eyes balked at the prospect. He was not going to be humiliated like that. He can already envision Jason’s poorly concealed attempt at suppressing his laugher, and he just knew Dick was gonna bring this up at some inopportune moment at a future family dinner.

You can practically see the gears in his head turning, trying to work out another third option where he gets what he wants with his pride remaining intact. However, he doesn’t get very far in his dazed state.

So Bruce decides to go with the lesser of the two evils, one that would leave his ego less bruised.

“… I suppose you can help me to bed” He mumbles, causing you to laugh at his resigned tone. There we go.

“You know it’s not a crime to ask for help once in a while. You don’t have to bear all the burdens on your own” you reply as you help prop him up. 

Slinging his arm over your shoulder, you begin the trek back to the bedroom. He huffs, unable to meet your eyes.

“I don’t want to worry you” he admits quietly. 

He knows you worry enough already. He sees how your brows crease in concern when he comes home after patrol sporting a particularly nasty gash. He recalls the several times he caught you looking at him, quickly masking your anxious expression with a sweet smile. And on multiple occasions he’s found you dozed off on the couch well past midnight, in your attempt to stay up and wait for him until he returned from a mission.

It often causes a pit of guilt in his stomach that he finds it hard to push away. You already put up with so many eccentricities given his vigilante double life, that too all with a warm smile. He’d hate to add to your worries.

“Bruce” you tut, “You ought to know I want to help. You’re always juggling so many things all at once, it feels nice to help out once in a while. Besides, it’s not like I can help much with your nightly escapades” you say with a light laugh as you help him into bed.

But Bruce doesn’t miss the strain in your voice when you mentioned that last bit, you feel like you’re not doing enough, which is so far from the truth. Before he can address it you leave the room, stating you’d get him medicine and a cup of warm tea to help with the cold.

The next few hours seemingly pass in a blur, after his doze of medicine Bruce was out cold, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He wakes up in the late afternoon, the morning headache reduced to a dull pain at the back of his head, his voice feeling less hoarse than before. 

As he rubs his eyes to rid himself of the remnants of sleep, he notices you curled up on the sofa next to the bed, a book in your hand as you leaf through the pages.

“Morning sleepyhead” you tease as you notice him sitting up on the bed.

“How long was I out?” He asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“A couple of hours, feel any better?”

“Yeah… were you waiting up for me all this while?”

You give a light shrug, “It was gonna be a slow afternoon for me anyway, thought I might as well spend it keeping an eye on my patient for the day”

Bruce looks aways from your smile, feeling his cheeks flush. If you’d dare tease him about it he’d blame it on his cold no doubt.

There’s a beat of silence before he reaches over to grasp your hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You do help (Name), more than you know it. I look forward to coming home to you every night, I’m deeply appreciate of the peace you bring in my life” he remarks, referring to your last statement before he fell asleep.

Bruce wasn’t one for bold declarations nor was he a waxing romantic. However, that’s not to say he didn’t cherish you in his life. 

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, at times he’s still taken by surprise by your willingness to put up with the whirlwind of chaos that constitutes his life. You provide a sense of warmth and familiarity that he always believed would be out of reach for him. Something he couldn’t afford, given his commitment to his mission under the cowl. A tradeoff he’d have to simply learn to live with.

He pulls your hand closer and kisses your knuckles, unable to voice his jumbled thoughts but hoping to convey the sentiment nevertheless.

You smile at his gesture, as much as you wanted to coo at his gentle words and warm disposition (which was not that common a site), you knew he’d only flush bright red in embarrassment. You decided to save the teasing for another time.

“That’s kind of you to say. You know I’m here for you. We all are” you reassure, referring to the rest of rag tag bunch of a family. 

“Well, as much as I love the kids, I wouldn’t describe them as a source of peace, quite the contrary really” he winces as he recalls their latest antics.

A discombobulated performance featuring Tim’s latest handmade gadget malfunctioning and causing a small fire, Damian’s new dagger stunt breaking several pieces of expensive china, a manhunt for Dick’s dog’s who got lost in the Bat Cave and Jason’s attempted DIY hair dye gone wrong causing him to sulk in his room for several days. Alfred came to the rescue as per the usual, putting out both literal and metaphorical fires.

Of course you supported when you could. That is to say when you managed to stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of what you were witnessing.

You shake your head with a smile, before suggesting in a teasing tone “Maybe that’s just their way of showing love?”

He snorts at that, “Right by giving me new grey hairs”

He can’t help the bent smile forming on his face as you laugh at his quip. He still marvels at how easy it is between the two of you. How easy you make it for him to feel a sense of calm and security in your relationship. 

“What’ve you been reading there?” he asks, his chest warming at how your eyes light up, ands the excitement in your tone as you begin to describe the book to him.

Perhaps it’s not all that bad to need to lean on you once in a while.

Especially not if it means he get to make more precious memories with you.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

(back again, passed all my midterms and finally getting antidepressants😝, this is a VERY Johnny centric chapter)

tw: depression, lotta angst but aftercare this time, mentions of neglect, courting, mentions of bullets, being shot, medical treatment, rehabilitation, forced cuddles (but needed), hitting head against stuff, lots of whining, biting, scratching

It was wrong, he knew it.

He hadn’t been there originally, too cooped up in a sterile medical room, the harsh, stinging scent of a scent blocking spray burning his nostrils till he couldn’t smell anything at all. Mushy food he could barely shove down his throat, only tolerating it so they didn’t shove a feeding tube down his throat. Lukewarm water that tasted suspiciously like painkillers.

His head throbbed, the bullet having already been pulled out as soon as he was wheeled into the emergency room, doctors crowding around, yelling, ordering. Too much noise, in his opinion.

Especially when there was already so much going on in his head.

Everything had been fine, until it hadn’t been. He’d heard of a replacement on his team for him, temporary, they’d said, because of his medical suspension. He only had to get through a few months of physical therapy and a few medical tests before being thrown back onto the field.

He originally hadn’t known what to think. Simon had come visited him, told him of the strange alpha there, how quiet they were, how meek. The Ghost seemed to see it as a weakness, but Simon almost talked like he appreciated it, regardless of his annoyance.

“Tryin’ to replace you, well it isn’t working.”

He’d grumbled, making sure not to say anything the camera would pick up. Any mention of something potentially “triggering” could set Soap off, he’d been told. If he said anything toeing the line, he could be removed or banned.

Johnny had been intrigued at first, at the thought of a new alpha, seeing as there weren’t many in the SAS program. Especially not an American, on a British team. His thoughts were filled with the Southern twangy accent, “soda”, “chips” instead of crisps, arguments over soccer and football and which was which.

But now, months after the initial incident with Makarov, he’d recovered just in time to watch everything crumble and to try and help clean up the mess. You didn’t know him. Maybe that would give him a fresh start with you, maybe you’d like it.

He was still fucked in the head, voices whispering until he’d hush them, snappier, a bit angry at how much space he took up, but he supposed that you might be a bit fucked in the head too, just in the opposite way than him.

But as he’d crept up to your room in the middle of the night, slowly cracking the door open, he still felt it was wrong. There was no medical expert here if something went wrong. This was his riskiest bomb defusing yet, it felt like an all or nothing situation.

The room was practically dripping with a sour and pungent smell of distress and the unmistakable scent of depression, the feeling seeming to press down on him like a heavy weight, as if he was hundreds of miles underneath the sea, nearly being crushed by the pure atmosphere.

As he closed the door behind him with a small click, he heard rustling, the sound of those uncomfortable paper textured blankets the military provided, and a little sniff, before it stopped. He stood still as could be, trying not to wake you just yet, hoping he would be able to make more out of you when his eyesight adjusted.

Only the tiniest sliver of moonlight snuck through the small window in the room, though it was covered by a blanket. Gaz had updated him on the syndrome, how it meant no bright lights.

Soap didn’t consider himself a genius, but he didn’t think it was a great idea to just submerge you into complete darkness and sight deprivation with no warning. Especially not while you were struggling.

He rolled from the ball of his feet to the sides, heavy boots not even on, only his red and green socks that his sister-in-law had bought him for secret Santa one year donning his feet as he moved quietly. Carefully grasping the blanket covering the window, he brushed it aside a little more, more gentle light flooding the room as a beam landed on near the side of the bed, allowing him a bit more vision of you.

And when he finally turned and managed to see you?

His heart dropped.

Your eyes were puffy from crying, corners red and eyelids tightly shut as if to block everything out. Your lips were downturned, almost as if whining even in sleep as you seemed to pant somehow quietly. As if not to alarm or alert anyone despite your own suffering.

What really got him was the way you were curled up, arms and legs wrapped tightly around in a ball as if to protect your vital organs, your paper thin blanket maneuvered around as if to resemble a nest. He could barely see you, considering you were underneath the bed. Hidden.

The blanket seemed to resemble the nest you’d been kept from entering, and shunned from by his own pack.

He couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of him at his own distress of seeing you, you clearly distraught, hair greasy and tangled, clothes dirty, not even having enough energy to care for yourself. If only the scent of your emotions in this room alone had been enough to almost crush him, how close were you to being smashed between the weight pressing in on you?

Or had you already been crushed, and none of them had even cared enough to notice?

A flood of anger burner through his veins hotter than any pain he’d experienced on the job as he saw the clear signs of his pack’s neglect of you. Simon had visited him multiple times a week, but hadn’t even tried with you. Price had pulled the strings to get him better food in the med wing (even if it had still been bad), but he hadn’t cared enough to even provide proper materials for you to make a faux nest? Gaz had brought him sketchbooks and helped him feel comfortable in physical therapy, but hadn’t even tried to court you with any of the special gifts he had done with Price when first joining?

It was unfair. Unbelievable, to think the grown men who had done so much, saved so many lives, sacrificed everything to save the world, wouldn’t even give up their pride if it meant welcoming a new member to the team.

It was discriminatory, to dislike you purely because you were an alpha. It was unfair to dislike you purely because you were a replacement.

He watched you squirm a bit, maybe reacting to his scent unconsciously. He knew he couldn’t smell the best, not when he had been around a sterile hospital for months. Maybe the cocoa butter Vaseline that the physical therapist had used on him would cover it a bit, though.

He crept closer, hand reaching out, before pulling back again as he hesitated, shifting onto his knees in front of your bed, before just laying down on his side to see you under it. His breathing grew a bit shaky due to anxiety as he reached out, brushing his hand against yours, watching your brows furrow unconsciously as you mumbled something.

It was only when he slipped his full hand into your surprisingly calloused palm that your eyelids fluttered, and you jolted awake, yanking away from him with your teeth bared back, a wild animalistic fear in your eyes. A low growl that reverberated through his bones came out, and he understood in that moment that you weren’t just a bomb he had to defuse.

You were a high value target that wasn’t afraid to fight back, not just some stationary object he wanted to fix. This wasn’t a defusing mission, it was more a complicated stakeout, where all he could do was make careful moves, waiting for you to take the initiative.

However, as you pulled harshly away from him, your head reared back and slammed into the metal frame above you. A pained whining groan slipped out, and Soap couldn’t take it anymore.

Mission be damned, stakeout be damned, his instincts got the better of him yet again. The exact reason he’d taken a bullet to the head. But he found that he would risk taking another bullet to the head if he could just comfort you, let you know that you weren’t alone, that he understood.

It was a worthy risk, in his opinion.

He grabbed part of your shoulder, putting his foot against the bed frame and lifting up, and pulled you right out from under.

His arms wrapped around you, even as you struggled and hissed, desperately trying to mask the pain in your scent with what he could tell was poorly produced anger. The littlest hint of comfort he could smell, that seemed to lighten the atmosphere just a bit.

He held on, even as you clawed at him, and bit his arms (which he might’ve enjoyed, just a little bit), he held on. He held on because he’d always had people holding onto him, Price, Gaz, and Ghost, with their vice grip that held him and their pack together.

They had failed to hold onto you, so he would.

And eventually, you stopped struggling. You went a little bit limp, whined a bit more as your head must’ve been throbbing (he knew how that felt), before finally, finally leaning the slightest bit into him.

Johnny didn’t need to be told that the next few months would be difficult. That the pack would struggle and go through hardships they hadn’t yet faced before. Hell, it had already been strained since his injury. He had gone through months of rehabilitation, and still wasn’t the exact same.

But as he lied on the cold floor with you in his arms, leaning just the tiniest bit into him, he knew that the both of you could heal together, even if from completely different things.

At least he was drowning with you, instead of being alone.

(idk how to feel about this tbh, I think I put too much symbolism since I wrote it in one take while in a mood, but I wanna play roblox so just gonna post this and dip)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[reiding-writing]

SICK DAY — SPENCER REID!

Stubbornness is both your greatest strength and your greatest weakness, but there’s always going to be one person with enough leeway to force you into what’s best.

spencer reid x cold!reader | h/c? | 2.3k | cold!reader masterlist.

cw— fem!reader, mentions of reader being nauseous, readers a little harsh to spencer at some points but she gives in eventually as always

a/n— so it’s been a month— sorry 😭

main masterlist.

Pain medication was always a last resort.

It was another apparent quirk of your character, a mindset that said to ‘tough it out’ unless you literally felt like you were on your deathbed and couldn’t continue without some chemical help.

Although, when you’re in the middle of flu season, backed up to no end, and feel like your throat is literally going to collapse into your oesophagus, you find yourself considering the torment of the disgusting powdery texture just to give you some short-term relief.

The chills were the worst part, feeling so hot yet so cold and literally shivering to the point where you felt like you couldn’t even stand upright without falling over.

But yet, there was still work to be done, and whilst you did spend an extra few minutes staring at your medicine cabinet, you decided to leave your house unmedicated, praying desperately that you’d feel alright by lunch.

By the time you’d parked your car and ridden up the elevator, you were still feeling like absolute shit, and the way you practically collapsed into your office chair was enough to warn the rest of the team that you were not in the mood for any of their usual shenanigans today.

If you had a short patience on a good day, someone so much as breathing too close to you would get you to snap this morning.

It was like someone had stuffed cotton inside your ears and covered your eyes in a misty film, and once the first half-hour had passed you were genuinely considering falling asleep at your desk.

Of course, even in your grumbled state, there was always going to be someone who didn’t take the hint you wanted to be left alone.

“Are you okay?”

It was Spencer, of course. You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the way your eyes struggled to focus. “Do I look okay to you?” you muttered, your voice raspy and weak.

“Well, no,” he admitted, his brow furrowing in concern and a little bit of apprehension. “I have some Tylenol in my bag if you want.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Spencer frowns. “The acetaminophen can reduce fevers and lower the discomfort, especially if you get that pounding headache behind your eyes, and the phenylephrine hydrochloride can clear up some of the nasal congestion. Besides, the cough suppressant will make it so that you don’t feel like you have to cough every two minutes.”

You drag your palms over the skin of your cheeks with a groan. “I don’t want any painkillers, I’ll be fine.”

"But you look horrible," he tells you softly and moves to rest against your desk, sighing as he does. "You can barely even sit up straight. You're going to end up more tired if you try to push yourself when you're already not feeling well.”

It’s these very small, very specific instances that make a lingering trace of regret surface in the back of your mind for allowing Spencer so much leeway with your patience. The fact that he could continue to push and prod at you when you were clearly not in the mood to deal with it. “Just leave me alone, Reid, I’m fine,”

"But–"

Spencer is cut off by a particularly heavy cough that racks your body, and his gaze darkens. As much as he wants to respect your decision, he can see you're not okay. He can see how tired you are, how much pain you're in, and it's not something he can brush off.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, and the concern in his voice taking over his usual hesitance. "You're not fine."

As if to punctuate his statement, you cough again, and this time Spencer can’t help but flinch and grimace at the sound. It’s raw and harsh, like your throat has been scraped and set on fire, and he knows it must be hurting badly.

"I'm getting the Tylenol," Spencer mutters, not giving you time to protest as he turns towards the kitchenette with a determined set to his jaw.

“I don’t want it—”

Spencer ignores your continued dismissal and returns a couple of minutes later, brandishing a small, white bottle of acetaminophen. He pops off the cap, tapping three small tablets into the palm of his hand and offering them to you.

"Please," he murmurs, his face pleading. "Just take these. I don't want to sit back and watch you suffer."

“They taste like shit,” You push Spencer’s hand away with a shake of your head, “I’d rather die,”

The idea of you dying, even if you’re clearly exaggerating, makes Spencer’s heart twist painfully. It isn’t just a professional or a friendly concern anymore - it’s a personal one. He cares about you, too much for his own good.

“Please take them,” Spencer pleads again, his voice soft and his expression desperate. “I don’t care if they taste like… like dirt, or… I don’t know. They’ll help."

“The texture makes me want to puke,” You give another determined shake of your head. “There’s no way.” The end of your sentence is more of a groan, words drawling on uncomfortably as you speak through the need to clear your throat.

Spencer’s frown deepens, and his gaze drops at the groan of pain.

“You’re in so much pain,” he murmurs, his voice laced with guilt, “What was it you said to me when my migraines got so bad that I collapsed in the briefing room? ‘Something is always better than nothing’?”

“Don’t guilt trip me right now,”

“It’s hardly a guilt trip if you need to hear it,” Spencer responds, his tone almost biting with how much he’s struggling to keep in the turmoil swirling inside him.

His need to help you is overwhelming, but the knowledge that he can’t do anything just keeps feeding the guilt and frustration. It makes him feel worthless. “Why don’t you… crush them into your tea? Then you can sip it slowly and you won’t even taste it,”

“Spencer, I’m being serious,” There’s an air of finality in your tone, joined by you pressing the heels of your hands into your closed eyes with sigh. “Just leave me be, will you?”

“No.” The word is short, firm and spoken with a cold conviction. Nothing about him has changed in the space of a moment - he's still the same gentle, kind, awkward genius that you know. But the expression on his face is one that you've never seen before. An almost possessive determination in the lines of his features, a flicker of an emotion he usually hides away under the polite, genial exterior.

His gaze is locked firmly on you as he mutters. “Not when you’re being a hypocrite,”

“Spencer.”

Spencer falls silent as he stares at you, his jaw clenched and a flicker of stubbornness passing across his features. But his expression is still gentle, softer than his tone.

“You’re in pain,” he murmurs. “So please let me put some Tylenol in your tea, even if it’s just one.”

“Will it make you leave me alone?”

Spencer nods a little too quickly at the small break in your dismissal.

“Fine,”

Spencer lets out a silent sigh of relief, some of the tension seeping from his frame. He nods, his gaze softening as he murmurs one last time. “Thank you.”

After crushing three of the small tablets into some plain tea, Spencer places the mug on the coaster left on your desk, before quietly returning to his own work. He keeps his gaze trained on you for a few moments at a time, but is careful to give the impression of staying focused on his own files.

He watches as you periodically take slow sips from your drink over the next half an hour, trying to bypass the taste to placate Spencer’s ‘paranoia’ and let the steam clear out the congestion in your sinuses.

Then, within an hour of your initial conversation, Spencer takes another momentary glance across his desk towards you, only to be met with the top of your head.

You’d fallen asleep against your desk.

It’s almost surreal, to see you in such a tranquil state. It always felt like he was seeing something he shouldn’t when you were like that. Like this.

But it wasn’t unwelcome by any means.

He doesn’t realise how long he’s actually been watching you until JJ appears, her hands on her hips and an amused sparkle in her gaze.

“You’re not being very sneaky are you?” she says with a quiet chuckle, the sound making Spencer tear his gaze from you, his cheeks heating up as embarrassment. “You’re lucky she’s not awake, she’s rip you to shreds,“

“I-I’m just concerned.” He tries weakly to defend himself, looking anywhere but at JJ. His embarrassment only intensifies as she chuckles again and pats him gently on the shoulder.

“What, no denial that you’re staring?” she teases, a knowing smirk on her lips. Spencer simply huffs, ducking his head, but JJ can’t help but laugh again. “It’s sweet, Spence. You’re sweet,”

Spencer finally looks up at JJ’s words, his embarrassment replaced by surprise at the sincerity in her tone. He ducks his head again, his cheeks flushing even brighter. “Thanks,” he mutters, his tone soft and bashful. They fall into a comfortable silence, watching your sleeping form for a few moments before Spencer looks back up at JJ. “Is it that obvious?”

“About as obvious as a neon sign,” JJ replies with a light chuckle, the fondness in her tone clear as she glances over at your desk. “You’re smitten,”

“That’s…” Spencer trails off, his cheeks flushing again. He doesn’t know how to respond—JJ is right, but it doesn’t make it any less mortifying to hear. “That’s a very unsubtle way of putting it,” he mutters eventually, hiding his embarrassment under a layer of feigned offense.

“What can I say? You’re very unsubtle,” JJ grins, clearly not taking Spencer’s feigned offense seriously. But she lets it slide, her expression softening as she looks back to your sleeping form.

“You’ve got it bad, Spence. I hope you realise that,”

Spencer lets out a soft groan and buries his burning cheeks in his hands, his embarrassment only intensifying. JJ’s words are a truth that he already knows. He knows he’s infatuated, hopelessly so, but it doesn’t make it any less mortifying to hear it. “Please just shut up,” he groans, lifting his head to glance pleadingly at JJ.

JJ chuckles lightly again but relents, her teasing giving way to a gentle fondness. She looks back to your form, then glances over to Spencer, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Why don’t you take her home?” she suggests, “she clearly needs the rest, and she’ll probably appreciate the ride more than you hovering over her desk.”

Spencer blinks, his features softening. He didn’t even consider that option. Maybe it wasn’t so presumptuous to offer you a ride home.

Although he didn’t drive into work, and you did. So he’d somehow have to work your car keys from you.

“How would I do that?” Spencer asks, his tone a mix of confusion and amusement. He’s still not quite over the mortification of realising how badly he’s been pining over you, but now his focus is shifting to how best to take care of you.

JJ sighs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be dense. Wake her up and offer her a ride home. Ask for her keys. It’s not that complicated, genius,”

“There’s no way she’ll agree to that,” Spencer shakes his head, his gaze shifting back to your sleeping form nervously.

“When has she ever really said no to you?” There’s a glint of knowing in JJ’s gaze as she tilts her head at him, and he almost implodes at the implication.

“That’s—” Spencer sighs, turning his attention back to you.

He knows he should wake you, but he wants to let you rest as much as possible—what if the pain wakes you up again, and you can’t fall back asleep? Or maybe he’s just making excuses to watch you sleep for a little longer, which feels a little bit stalker-ish.

“Alright just—” Spencer holds up his hand in what’s basically a show of surrender as he looks back at JJ over his shoulder. “I’ll— just give me a minute,”

JJ does nothing but give a short laugh with a nod, surrendering her hands in front of her before walking off towards the kitchenette, amusement written all over her face.

God, he probably sounds like an idiot. He probably looks like an idiot.

Spencer presses his hands to his cheeks to try and quell the burning sensation lingering underneath his skin, but it does nothing other than make his inner turmoil more obvious.

The way his heart rate accelerates as you shift your forehead against your forearm doesn’t help.

He really should wake you up and take you home.

But watching you sleep for a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

[mockerycrow]

Lately I've been dying with stress induced migraines and was wondering if I could request the 141 or any character of your choosing to take care of the reader suffering from them??

MIGRAINES (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist

[WARNINGS; medicine/drugs, inaccuracy of medicine stuff, inaccuracy of military, fluff, physical hurt/comfort, mention of overdosing, it’s implied you do not have regular sleeping problems.]

You know a migraine is about to come on when you’re looking down at the paper in front of you—something about a past mission—and you can’t see the lower right corner of the paper. You blink harshly and rub your eyes, the blotch not leaving which leads you to believe it’s a migraine aura. A heavy feeling forms in the bottom of your stomach, a weird sensation blooming in the nape of your neck. You put the paper down for a moment and rub your eyes—it’s only Tuesday and this will be your second migraine. 

You feel frustration ebb at your nerves as tears threaten to spill, causing you to let out a shuddery breath. You stand up from the office chair you’re sitting in, near your desk in your barracks. You decided that you should warn the Captain about your aura and that you would need some rest for the incoming day and maybe even tomorrow.

You can already feel the light sensitivity setting in. It doesn’t hurt just yet as you open your door and you’re forced to be under fluorescent lights, but you can tell your tolerance is lower than usual. You offer quiet greetings to those who you pass in the hall, making your way across base to the offices. You squint a bit more, the muscles surrounding your eyes tensing. You can’t help but wonder why they use such shitty lighting in an office space.

You stop in front of a door with a name plate labeled “CPT. JOHN PRICE”, and you knock on the door a couple of times. You hear his gruff voice, saying something along the lines of come in. You open the door and close it behind yourself, looking at Price who is looking up from his paperwork; probably surrounding the last mission like yours is, too. “I feel another migraine coming on, Captain. I came to ask for the day off.” 

Price’s eyes narrow for just a moment in concern. He knows your history with migraines, and how they’re usually induced by stress. “Alright, but you make sure to go see medical if it persists, yeah?” Price says with a lifting tone, but it’s not a question, it’s an order. You go to open your mouth, but Price beats you to it. “I know they can’t do much for you, but those painkiller cocktails are very much worth it.”

You close your eyes as a wave of nausea passes over you, causing you to freeze for a moment. The man in front of you utters your name which prompts your eyes to open back up. His eyes are scanning your face. eyebrows lifting ever so slightly to prompt an answer. You press your lips together and give him a nod; those cocktails are lifesavers, but they don’t last as long as you need them to. You’re thankful for his suggestion anyway. Price gives you a firm nod. “Hope to see you tomorrow feeling better, sergeant.”

“Thank you, Captain.” You reply before leaving his office, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying to stave off that beginning twinge of pain beginning in the base of your skull.

Something was off—Ghost could feel it in his bones. When you don’t show up for morning PT, he knows something is off, especially when for the second time in a few days, Price hands him a signed off medical emergency paper from you. It contained no details, nothing other than “1 day medical absence” signed by Price himself. It left Ghost feeling uneasy; you are not the type to do this type of thing, even when you had the seasonal flu, it was like the entire 141 had to lecture you to slow down, or maybe even rest a bit.

Ghost half expects you to show up anyway, but just like a few days ago, you are nowhere to be found. Ghost finds some free time a bit after 1500, so he makes his way towards medical. Perhaps you were physically injured? He steps into the infirmary and is met with a few pairs of eyes, a couple of them shocked to see him. “Lieutenant! How can we help you?” A medic at a cart parked against the wall asks, quickly packing up something he was doing. Ghost utters your name, glancing around. “Are they here?” He grunts.

“No, sir,” The medic replies. “They did stop by for some treatment, though.” Ghost’s eyebrows furrow for a moment; treatment? Treatment for what? Ghost doesn’t bother to ask, knowing the medics wouldn’t likely tell him anyway, so he murmurs a shirt thank you before leaving the infirmary. He racked his brain—what possibly could keep you out of commission willingly when not even a GSW would? Ghost then decides right then that he will head for your barracks.

He makes his way across base, going from the infirmary unit all the way across to the on-base barracks. Gears are turning in his head as he tries to not jump to conclusions—is there a physical injury he’s not being told about?—and Ghost is failing. You’re one of the couple of folks who don’t have a roommate, so he knocks with a purpose as there isn’t anyone else to worry about bothering. He waits for a few moments and is greeted with silence, so he knocks again with a loud and deep, “Sergeant?”

Ghost is met with silence again, which doesn’t soothe his nerves. He tries the doorknob and to his surprise—and concern—it works. Ghost slowly opens the door to find your room in complete darkness, the only light being the one from the hall which is illuminating your bed. He sees you hunched over in your bed, wrapped in your blankets with your face half buried into your pillow. Near your bed is a TV tray stand with two plastic bowls with separate washcloths hanging off of the side of the bowls. There’s an orange medicine bottle and a small white medicine bottle next to a half empty water bottle and another full unopened bottle.

Ghost closes the door behind himself as he walks over to you, narrowly avoiding the TV tray stand. He peels back the velcro of one of his gloves before removing it, pressing the back of his hand to the part of your forehead that is exposed. Your temperature feels fine at first so he turns his hand over and presses his wrist to the small part of your forehead and he receives the same result. Ghost blinks for a moment, noting that you have no fever. Immense relief floods over him; he’s not exactly sure why.

He calls your name and puts a hand on your arm, shaking you ever so slightly. You don’t move a muscle, but you’re breathing just fine. Ghost looks over at the bottles of medicine and leans over, grabbing both of them. He reads “Zaleplon” and “Rizatriptan”. With a quick google search on his phone, he finds out they are both prescribed medications, which makes his eyebrows furrow in confusion. You have prescribed medications? For sleeping and migraines? You’ve never mentioned this before.

Ghost puts them back down on the TV tray stand and he shakes your shoulder a bit more forcefully as it seems you’re really asleep. He feels bad, knowing he should just let you rest, but he doesn’t know if you’ve eaten. He has no idea if you have only drunk that one bottle of water all day, if you have left to go to the bathroom—nothing. He calls your name louder which still does not harbor a response from you, making his gut tighten once again.

He knows it’s the anxiety talking, that you would be careful with medicine, careful enough to not take too much—but he can’t help but still worry. Ghost doesn’t know that maybe you forgot you took a sleeping pill before popping another, putting you in a deeper sleep. Your breathing seems fine, so you’re definitely not struggling in that department. Maybe you’re just sleeping heavier than usual?

But what if you did take more than needed? What if this is you in the middle of an overdose? You are indeed turned over, your face halfway smushed into the pillow. That’s enough to strike anxiety into Ghost’s soul so he grabs your shoulder and forcefully rolls you onto your back, a heavy relieved sigh leaving him when he doesn’t see any vomit or excess saliva on your pillow or hoodie. Your skin is its usual color, as well as your lips. Ghost’s fingers grab your wrist to feel your pulse, counting the beats. Your heart rate is fine.

So why are you not waking up? And why is he so anxious about it?

Ghost calls your name even louder and his shoulders relax when he hears a quiet groan leave your lips. Your closed eyelids squeeze together for a moment before an expression of pain floods your face, causing Ghost to press his lips together underneath his balaclava. “There ya are,” Ghost murmurs, putting a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes flutter open and they land on Ghost after a moment. “Ghost,” You breathe out, pain lacing your tone.

The room is dark so you’re both struggling to see each other, but Ghost doesn’t mind. If it helps your head, he will gladly squint. “Have ya eaten?” He grunts out, his voice rumbling and low in his chest. You let out a tired breath and rub your eyes, taking a moment to answer. “What time is it?” You croak, your hands moving from your eyes to your temples. Ghost pulls out his phone, it being too dark to look at his watch. “1321.” He replies, making you inhale sharply and let out a groan. “Shit, didn’t mean to sleep that long.” You slur ever so slightly.

“Did’ja miss a dose?” Ghost questions, and you let out a quiet “mhm”. You hear Ghost reach over to the TV tray stand, but you can’t tell what he’s doing. You hear one of the medicine bottles pop open. His hand finds yours and gives you a pill, and then you hear the water bottle crinkle. “Up.” He orders, and you comply, sitting up just enough to take the medicine. You wince at the change in angle so easily irritates your pounding skull, but you appreciate the soothing water running down your throat. Ghost caps the water bottle and puts it back. You hear water sloshing around and one of the washcloths being wrung out, and you flinch ever so slightly when you feel a cold washcloth being tucked underneath your head and against the nape of your neck.

“When did you start ‘aving migraines?” Ghost asks. His tone isn’t accusatory, but it’s clear he’s confused on why he was never let known. He’s also your superior next to Price, looked over the necessary files. You let your eyes shut, focusing on the cold feeling seeping underneath your skin. You appreciate the man keeping his voice down. “Always had ‘em, but they’re stress induced. They aren't constant.” You reply, your voice also remaining low, barely disturbing the silence of your room. “Had one a day or two ago, guess that shit never left.” You joke, earning a huff from Ghost. “Y’didn’t answer my question. When’s the last time you have eaten?” Ghost inquires, making you let out a sigh. “Mm, maybe 4 or 5 hours ago,” You hum. “I should go grab something soon, helps the medicine kick in faster.”

Ghost shakes his head even though you can barely tell. “No need, I’ll grab it. Are you experiencing nausea?” Ghost stands up from the bed, the mattress leveling out. “A bit, yeah. Could you grab something light on the stomach?” You request, your fingers grabbing your blanket as a warm fuzzy feeling in your gut begins to distract you from the pounding in your temples. “‘Course.” And with that, Ghost leaves you with your thoughts for the time being. You don’t understand why he’s being so nice and generous—it’s not like Ghost is not nice, but he’s usually more teasing and serious about getting shit done. 

To be fair, the last time you got injured, he also took care of you. You had earned a nasty brush with death after being too close to a large explosion. You had been thrown back into a wall, crashing through the other side, earning you a broken shoulder and a piece of wood through the major artery in your thigh—as well as the classic severe concussion, of course. This happened about a year ago and when your shoulder aches, Ghost somehow knows and offers to rub cream into it. It’s similar to Soap’s knee pain, so he knows what to do. Countless nights over a year of rubbing cream into the part of your shoulder that you can’t reach, the words left unspoken between you two? 

Ghost returns with a light meal for you as well as a cup of ice water, knowing it’ll help you more than your room temperature water bottles. Something about Ghost being so domestic over this past year up to now, taking care of you and bringing you food, rubbing cream into your shoulder when needed, when he took you to those temporary physical therapy appointments for your shoulder? Something snapped inside of you and you could never look at him in the same friendly way and by the way he looks and speaks to you, it seems to be the same for him.

[educatedsimps]

— inarizaki 4 x f!reader on her period (hcs)

≪ back to fics masterlist

ft. miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, suna rintarō x f!reader

a/n: only writing for these four (so far) 'cause i don't think i have a very good grasp of the other inarizaki characters but perhaps in the future! anyway this one's short and sweet but i hope you enjoy~~

cw: timeskip spoilers for osamu but that’s it

— MIYA ATSUMU

is a dumbass

this man would only know what to buy for a period care pack because kita got him a care pack when he was sick

“i picked up a few things from kita-san ya know, WHADDAYA TAKE ME FOR?!"

he gets anxious and worried that he'll forget stuff when he's at the store

like he had to ask kita to make him a checklist for when he gets supplies for u

would go on a day trip around the neighbourhood to find the store that has everything on that checklist

keeps that checklist pinned in his notes app (right below a little note where he writes down everything he loves about you - he's a simp)

he's always worried he missed something so he will not shut up

"are you sure the pads are in there? did i get the right ones? the big ones with the wings right? the extra absorbent kind? I SWEAR I TOOK THE RIGHT ONES BUT IF THEY'RE NOT IN THE BAG I'LL RUN BACK TO GET IT FOR YA RIGHT NOW" (he took the bus there btw)

"oh and they ran out of the usual snacks you like so i got three other brands for you to try, if you don't like any of 'em i'll get some more!"

asks osamu to make your fav onigiri too but he only asks nicely cuz it’s for you :)

— MIYA OSAMU

would make SO MUCH food for you like you’ll never go hungry if you’re with him

he also does not care if you bloat during your period he WILL keep you fed even if it's against your will

would also find a bunch of different recipes that will reduce your bloating

he's an onigiri guy but he'd go to his mom and ask her to teach him her healing soup recipes

he'll start making so much soup you'll just be drinking soup the whole day (with onigiris and anything else you'd like, of course)

would NOT let you within a 10 foot radius of a cold drink when you're on your period

like you'd go to the fridge in the middle of a hot day to grab some chocolate and you'll just hear "STEP AWAY FROM THE FRIDGE WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR"

you turn around and he’s pointing at you with his spatula in hand

he knows how warm you might feel on your period though so he'll make the kind of hot soup that cools the body (he learnt it from his mom)

— KITA SHINSUKE

kita is kita

kita is the best one out of everybody

he KNOWS what he’s doing like i don’t even need to explain

but yes you can trust that he’s got everything you need and has everything before you even know you need it

fav snacks, fav drinks, heating pad, painkillers, a gallon of water, hot soup, fresh food, weighted blanket if you like those, your fav movie or show already set up for you and a shit ton of cuddles and naps throughout the day

also he’d write in or call your boss to tell him or her that you’re staying home

“kita, i NEED to go to work today-“ “no. you need to rest.” “but-“ “i already called your boss.” BRO IT’S 6AM

will physically force you back in bed if you try to get up or out

also asks osamu to make ur fav onigiri

of course, his grandma loves u SO much that every month she’ll ask kita if you’re on your period and she'll make herbal or like the healing kind of soup and packs it so nicely for kita to bring it to you

sometimes she adds a little note in the carrier and your heart melts every single time

— SUNA RINTARŌ

king of cuddling and doomscrolling tiktok in bed

he knows you don’t really like lying down in bed and all during your period, especially if it’s really heavy so he’ll lay out extra towels and stuff in case anything happens

also would 100% clean up for you if your period gets too heavy and leaks onto the bed or something

“go get yourself cleaned up in the washroom and wait here for me once you’re done. don’t touch anything, i’ll take care of the sheets.”

keeps painkillers and water on his nightstand and a ton of heating pads in his drawer

ENDLESS CUDDLES like he gets so clingy it’s almost embarrassing but he’s cute so-

uses tiktoks to distract you from your period

“my period hurts-“ “babe look look look it’s a cat” “AWWWWW ITS SO FLUFFY”

tbh i don’t think you’d even use heating pads much if you were with him cuz you cannot look at suna and tell me that he’s not a heater in human form

his warm hands on your lower belly is the BEST feeling when you’re on your period

*places hands on tummy* “does it still hurt?” “no i think it’s going away…” “it better be. or i’m dragging your cramps to the depths of hell myself.”

— EXTRAS

osamu probably makes extra batches of onigiri every week just to give it out to his brother’s and friends’ girlfriends and honestly God bless him for that

would give atsumu’s girlfriend atsumu’s share of onigiri tho

the first time you got your period after you got together with kita, he probably asked you a whole list of questions he prepared and noted down all your answers like your fav stuff and the types of pads or tampons you use etc. it was honestly pretty shocking but sweet nonetheless

suna def has the period tracker app on his phone but he remembers your cycle so he uses the app to remind you

atsumu also has the app but he sets it to send him reminders and notifications when your period is coming up

a/n: THANK YOU FOR READINGG hoped u enjoyed it ~~ stay tuned for more original and requested works coming soon!! -lyssa

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[magics-neptunes-things]

Bad Period

Hi there :)

This is a request that you can find here, it's a little bit short but it's Sunday and the weather is awful.

Please enjoy it anyway ♥

TW : Bad period and Pain.

When Kyra comes back from her trip from Australia, she’s surprised to see that your flat in the dark. She knows that you are here, your car is parked right in front of the building and your eternal Converse and jacket are at their place next to the front door. But there isn’t any noise in here, not a single movement.

“Muffin?”

You are usually annoyed when she calls you that, but if you were able to hear her right now, you would find it cute. She seems worried and is looking around, searching for an indicator of your presence somewhere.

She puts her bags on the ground and start looking for you. She arrived in London’s airport several hours ago, you answered to her at that time, saying that you can’t wait to see her again. There is a leftover for her on the fridge, but she isn’t interested in eating it for now. She just wants to find you.

She finally does and she needs to check twice to be able to see the ball you form under the duvet in your room. She gently discovers your face to see that you face is a little red but especially twisted by the pain, even in your sleep. When her eyes land on your bedside table and the various medications in it, she quickly understands what it is. You have your period and apparently, it’s a bad one.

Your girlfriend is used to it, even if she freaked out the first time, now she knows what she has to do. Without a sound, she left the bedroom to go in the kitchen and make hot water. She then changes it in the heating pad that she put against your belly, before going in the kitchen again to make some tea.

You stir when she joins you in the bed after taking the time to take a shower. Your eyes are heavy, but Kyra stopped you when you try to sit in the bed.

“Kyra?” you mumble, still half-asleep.

“Hush” she whispers, putting a finger on your lips. “Go back to sleep, it’s ok.”

“I’m sorry, I wanted to wait for you.”

You did. But after suffering on the couch, you thought that you would be better in your bed and you kind of passed out on it after taking your medication.

“It’s ok Muffin, I’m here now. I’ll take care of you, ok? Go back to sleep.”

You turn your body to be on your side, facing Kyra. She smiles softly at you, softly stroking your face. You know what she’s doing, this is the best way to make you fall asleep.

“I’m happy you’re back. I missed you” you say, your eyes closed.

“I missed you too.”

She kisses her cheek softly and you fall asleep again in several seconds. You want to enjoy it, because sleeping isn’t always easy when you are in your period. Maybe it’ll change later though.

When you wake up again, you are a little disoriented. Kyra isn’t next to you, the water is cold and the pain makes you want to scream. You groan while putting a hand on your belly, looking at your medication on your nightstand without looking at it. The bottle of water makes a loud noise when it crashes on the ground and it’s maybe what scared enough Kyra to make her run to you.

“What happened? Are you ok?”

“Meds” you mumble.

In a second, Kyra is next to you, handing you a painkiller and the bottle of water. You take it while she’s looking at you with attention.

“I was making diner. What do you want to eat?”

“Nothing” you sighs, falling in the bed again.

“You know you have to eat something with this babe, you’ll be sick otherwise.”

She’s right. You sigh once again, searching in your mind something Kyra will be able to cook quickly, so she can come back to you even more quickly. You simply ask for a sandwich, which your girlfriend realized happily. After several minutes she’s back, with your sandwich and a bag of crisps.

You are happy to be able to cuddle against her while eating, and even more happy when she puts the TV on to watch Friend’s.

“How are you feeling?” she asks softly when your diner is finished.

“Terrible” you answer sincerely.

Kyra pouts and kiss your head softly. She squeezes you harder against her and you hide your face in her neck. You missed her, she went to Australia to play with Arsenal at first and then she has to stay for her national team. You have to stay in England, not able to join her there.

“You smell good” you mumble.

Kyra smiles but doesn’t add anything, still holding you against her. She decided to be quiet, something very unusual for her, just to see if you will be able to fall asleep again. But you can’t. The pain seems to pierce your stomach, kidneys and even thighs. You don’t say anything though, biting the inside of your bottom lip hard. You don’t want to worry Kyra, the girl already take care of you enough.

“It’s sucks to be a woman” you grumble.

Kyra laughs softly and look down at you.

“Are you saying that you rather be a man?”

You just shrug, trying to focus on something else than the pain. But your answer seems to interest Kyra enough for her to start talking again.

“Come on, how can you want to be a man? You have hair almost everywhere; you smell like shit every time you make an effort and if you sleep around you probably fear that one of the girl is pregnant and only tell you ten years later.”

She seems serious, but for the first time of the day, you laugh. Kyra seems to be proud of herself if you look at her smile.

“You’re so dumb.”

“You love me though.”

“Of course I do” you mumble, snugging closer to her.

Her smile gets soft, and she kisses your head softly. You are a little relieved to feel that the painkillers are finally making their effect. You feel your body relax a little and Kyra probably feels it too.

She starts to stroke your back again and you feel yourself falling asleep again. You are glad that Kyra is here with you now, even if you don’t like to be a burden for her. But she knows you very much and knows now what to do when you are in pain. You know you can count on her.

[starfinss]

𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 — 𝘑𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘶𝘢𝘯

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Honkai Star Rail

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Jing Yuan + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 9,818

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: And as you stood there, confused and fuming and utterly scarlet in the face, you decided to do something stupid. Like, really, cosmically stupid. But really, you couldn’t think of anything to do at that moment besides that terribly stupid thing.

Without saying anything, you crossed to his side of the desk, leaning to grab at the front of his clothing and yanking him up to meet your mouth in a kiss, effectively shutting him up and showing just how comfortable you were. 

You had a headache.

You’d had it since you woke up that morning, persisting even after you downed a couple of painkillers, and even still after your first cup of strong tea. And finally, to your chagrin, it only grew worse as you walked to work. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was simple dumb luck. Things like this always seemed to happen to you right before you had something important to do. 

For the umpteenth time, you rubbed at your throbbing temples. On a normal day, you’d call in sick and spend the day at home, and the General wouldn’t mind. He was good like that. But today, you couldn’t afford to bail. Incidents like the Sanctus Medicus debacle came with a lot of red tape, even after all the heavy lifting and clashing of blades was finished. Incident reports, statements, casualty reports, and more bureaucratic nonsense that was of no help to the bereaved families of the fallen Cloud Knights. It was a web of all sorts of complicated, and if you weren’t careful, it was easy to get lost in the nearly endless amount of work to be done, especially as an advisor to the General of the Cloud Knights.

But you had an idea. It had come to you when you were combing through the incident reports; brought about by the footnote left by Jing Yuan regarding those very stragglers of the cult-like group. A solution to capture the remaining disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. Your notes on that were tucked away in the folder in your arms, all ready to be passed off to the General. 

Head still throbbing, you gave your identification to the guards at the door and pushed into the meeting room, taking your seat near the General’s chair. He had yet to arrive, but that was fine with you. It gave you time to review what you were going to say. You placed your folder on the table in front of you, scanning through the lines of text, typed up the night previous, and accompanied by your own notes in the margins. It wasn’t a complicated plan, not as much as you were making it out to be in your own head. It was simple enough, but you were confident it could work. 

The General trusted you. Your strategies had worked before, and you’d been instrumental in helping orchestrate successful battle formations, not to mention that you were responsible for the plan that had stopped a string of robberies in the Central Starskiff Haven, something you’d actually received an award for. You knew Jing Yuan would back you up to the other upper echelons of the Cloud Knights, as he had in the past. 

It wasn’t long before people began to file into the room, and low chatter began as the pain in your head settled behind your eyes, but gradually began to lessen. You thanked the Aeons for that. You also thanked the Aeons that Fu Xuan was the one who called the meeting to order, recounting facts you already knew from the incident report, so you didn’t actually have to follow what she was saying. Tea was passed out, and you took a slow sip of the liquid. It smelled distinctly herbal, and was undoubtedly picked by the General himself. He always had good taste in teas. 

“And that brings me to my next point,” Fu Xuan said, “what are we to do about the remaining members of the Sanctus Medicus who remain in hiding?”

You let yourself prepare what you were going to say, letting a few other people toss ideas around before you raised your hand. When you did, the Master Diviner’s gaze shifted to you, and she nodded, signaling you to speak. Jing Yuan shifted in his seat beside you, leaning on his closed fist, amber eyes expectant. All eyes were on you.

“Yes, what is it?” The Diviner asked. 

“I have a proposal,” you said, and Fu Xuan nodded meaningfully.

“Then let’s hear it.”

Gathering your thoughts, you rose to your feet with a sigh. 

“In the incident report, transcripts were recorded of the firsthand accounts given by the passengers of the Astral Express. Please, if you will, turn to page nine, where Mr Welt Yang’s statement is attached.”

A rustling of paper followed, and once it had quieted, you picked up where you left off. 

“If you see, written in line twelve, Mr Yang recounts an interaction with a captured member of the group. The defeat of Phantylia the Undying was more than likely enough to send the doubters away, but if Mr Yang’s statement is to be believed, even despite their defeat, some of these people still hold a strong degree of loyalty for the Abundance. Which makes them all the more dangerous.”

“I see,” Jing Yuan interjected, clearly interested, “you’re saying that what we have left are the fanatics. The ones most likely to cause problems, yes?”

You nodded. “Yes, correct. I propose we send an agent to infiltrate them. Gather information, cut them off at the root.”

“I’m afraid we tried that,” Qingzu said, “and while we did garner some important information, it was ultimately a failure. Dan Shu escaped, and things ended up escalating to the current level.”

“Yes,” you said, “I’m well aware of that. That was something I advised you on, Miss Qingzu. You approached me for help, if you recall.”

Qingzu folded her hands in her lap, sitting back in her chair. “I do. Your point being?”

“My point being,” you said, “I learned that I needed to reflect on what went wrong, and so I have. And, as it stands, the situation is more dire than it was before. These people have proven themselves to be dangerous, and it is paramount—”

“They were dangerous before,” Qingzu said, “and, it was paramount before. They have always been enemies of the Hunt. If we try to infiltrate again, don’t you think they’d be suspicious?”

“I thought of that,” you said, “which is why I propose we use an ex-member. We have a number of them on record, arrested after the incident, who express resentment towards the group. The Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus bear many strong resemblances to an insular cult, and it would be incredibly useful to have an agent who already knows the ins and outs of such an organization. We’ve done what we can with the information gathered from interrogation, but the fact remains that these fanatics are still out there. We need to utterly destroy whatever is left, and this is the most efficient way to do so.”

“Interesting,” Fu Xuan said, “but there is always the chance of betrayal. How do you account for that?”

You made a rueful face. “Can it not be argued that there is always a chance of betrayal? Though, you could always see the outcome for yourself, Master Diviner. Your divinations are never wrong.”

“What you suggest is reckless,” Qingzu said, “if this ex-member has any sort of loyalty at all left over, it puts us at risk.”

“I accounted for that,” you said, “I propose that—”

“It is simply too risky,” she said, “thank you for your input, though.”

Annoyance flared in your veins, and you tried hard not to let it show on your face. You knew Qingzu well enough to know that she wasn’t shutting you down out of malice, she was simply thinking about efficiency. But she hadn’t let you finish. 

“Wait,” you said, “I said, I accounted for that. If you’ll allow me—”

“Allow me to be clear,” Qingzu said, “you acknowledge the risks, yes?”

You paused. “Of course, but I said that I—”

“You acknowledge that if we take this gamble and it fails, it could put the Cloud Knights at risk, correct? If our infiltrator switches sides, we’ll be left wide open. They will have information about us, the acquisition of which might lead to even bigger problems. Do you acknowledge this?”

Discontent and anger peppered across your thoughts as you shifted where you stood, your words stuck in your throat. You glanced down to where Jing Yuan sat beside you, to take in the expectant, almost nonchalant expression on his face. His eyes met your own, briefly, meaningfully, before he fixed his gaze on Qingzu. 

“Well?” Qingzu said, “do you, or do you not?”

“Yes, I do,” you said, “and that is why we would send that agent in with one of our own. Say this agent is someone new, a recruit for the cause. It would minimize suspicion, and give us some wiggle room if things were to go south. We have one of our own keeping them in line.”

“I see,” Jung Yuan said, “please, elaborate. How would we orchestrate this? How would we pick the candidates for this operation?”

“General,” Qingzu said, “you know that this is—”

But he held up a hand, silencing her. “Let the woman speak. I can see you are interested in what she has to say as well, Lady Fu Xuan.”

“Correct,” Fu Xuan said, “the idea is intriguing, and could very well lead to the eradication of the Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. But Lady Qingzu’s worry is not unfounded. If the plan is found out, our agents would likely be killed, and we would be left with bereaved families and nothing to show for the loss. If you can assuage both her fears, and my own, then I believe that your strategy is plausible.”

Ah. And you’d been doing so well before. But the second Fu Xuan fixed you with that look, expecting something great, you could feel your confidence draining out through the soles of your shoes. She seemed to have that effect on everyone, though. Despite her small stature, she could be incredibly intimidating. Regardless, you took a deep breath. You could do this. 

“Well,” you said, “I believe that no strategy is without risks. Of course, we’d need to make sure these agents are well briefed and prepared for the operation, so there is little room left for error. We’d need to be careful in our selection process, and I propose that you assist in overseeing this portion of the plan, Master Diviner. That way, you can see for yourself who will be involved and how it will be done. Does that assuage your worry?”

That was a weak answer and you knew it, but you hadn’t accounted for Fu Xuan picking your idea apart like she was. So when her eyes narrowed, you knew she wasn’t satisfied.

“And how exactly will we prepare these operatives?”

You bit your lip. This was the kind of thing, the fine moving parts, that was what you thought about after presenting the actual idea. That did well enough for when you were working with Jing Yuan, and when you presented strategies to others like you were now, he’d often back you up, or at least say something to help you. You looked at him sidelong, and he looked back, as calm and collected as ever. A small, almost bemused smile tugged at his lips, a challenge in his eyes. 

“Do you have an answer for me?” Fu Xuan said, canting her head, expectant, “if you don’t, I am sure the General has something to add.”

“I do,” you said, “I have an answer.”

Fu Xuan shifted in her chair. From her expression, you were beginning to figure that your time was up. “Be that as it may, I’d like to hear what the General is thinking. If you’re really confident in your strategy, send me a draft of it and I will review it in full. Thank you.”

You sank down into your chair again, trying not  to let your embarrassment show on your face. Jing Yuan proposed an idea similar to yours, but involving sneakier tactics, such as tailing known members of the group and such. Fu Xuan seemed much more complimentary of that than she had of yours, clearly satisfied by the lower risk factor.

But you knew yours would work. It would get more answers, and it could spell the demise of what remained of the Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. 

After the meeting drew itself to a close, you gathered your things, ready to go to the Seat of Divine Foresight to draft up the proposal Fu Xuan asked for. You just hoped she’d actually listen this time. It was as you were circling around the table to go to the door that you heard Jing Yuan call your name, prompting you to turn around, eyebrows raised.

“Walk with me back to the Seat, alright?”

You sighed inwardly. “Yes, General. I was already on my way there.”

“Ah,” he said, smiling, “then it works in both of our favors, doesn’t it?”

He held the door for you as you left the room, and you thanked him politely as he retook his place beside you. You had to walk quickly, the General was a tall man, and his stride was much longer than yours was. It always made you a little breathless, walking alongside him, but then again, most things did when it came to him.

“My idea could work,” you said, and you saw Jing Yuan smile again, thoughtfully.

“Yes,” he said, “it could. I’m confident it could. It was a well thought out plan, as your plans always are.”

You blinked, not expecting the praise, especially not after he’d stayed quiet during the meeting. 

“Huh?”

A soft laugh. “You weren’t finished talking when the Master Diviner cut you off, were you? Lady Fu Xuan is… an intense woman. But she is more open to the ideas of others than you’d expect her to be. She just prefers when a person speaks up about what they’re really thinking.”

You frowned. “So you’re saying you support my plan?”

Jing Yuan pushed open the doors to the Seat of Divine Foresight as you rounded upon them, and as you entered, he gestured for those inside to leave the room, which they did, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Of course I support your plan,” he said, “you know I’ve always respected your inputs, they’ve served me and the Luofu well in the past. But you lack conviction.”

You let his words settle as the two of you crossed the room, making your way to the desk, where you set down the folder you were still carrying.

“How do I lack conviction?” You asked, “I believe firmly in my own ability. I am good at what I do, and you know that, else you wouldn’t have picked me as your advisor. In all the time we’ve worked together, when have I ever lacked conviction in anything I’ve done?”

“That isn’t what I mean,” Jing Yuan said, “I mean in your own ideas. You clearly had more to say to the Master Diviner, but when she stopped you, that was the end of it. You clearly had it thought out, as demonstrated when Miss Qingzu brought up her concerns, but you didn’t fight for it.”

He had a point, but you weren’t about to admit that. You chewed your lip, eyes flicking to where the folder you’d just set down was laying. 

“What are you getting at?” You asked, finally, “that I need to be more confident? I know that. I didn’t account for… several things. I suppose I should have.”

Jing Yuan laughed; a lovely, low sound. “Lady Fu Xuan is something few people can really account for. She’s confident to nearly a fault in her abilities of divination, but even she cannot see every angle of a matter by herself. So she tends to pick apart things that would ordinarily require a bit of a gamble. Experience breeds caution, something that rings especially true with someone like the Master Diviner.”

You snorted. “A little warning would have been nice.”

Another laugh. “My apologies. But really, I was interested in seeing how you’d rise to the challenge. You had a good idea, as I knew you would, and I wanted to see you fight for it.”

Something uncomfortable twisted in your gut, and you turned away from him, studying a spot on the floor. 

“Well, I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Disappointing me? Nonsense. You merely need an extra push. Now, would you care for a game of chess?”

You turned back, looking at him quizzically. “Chess? General, I don’t think now is the time.”

He smiled playfully. “There’s always time for a game of chess. Now, I’ve received this exquisite set, a gift from the Nameless on the Astral Express. I was told it was bought in a city called Belobog. I’m very eager to break it in. As we play, we can discuss further.”

Exasperated, you pulled a chair up to the desk, sinking down into it as Jing Yuan set up the board. The set really was lovely, you noted. It was made of carved wood, the pieces and board both showing fine craftsmanship and detail. You turned over the rook in your hands, admiring the way the wood shone gently under the light. 

Jing Yuan chose white, as he usually did when the two of you played chess, and you chose black. He moved first, setting one of his pawns two spaces out from where it was originally, and you followed his example. 

“Chess is much like life, no?” 

You watched his hands, intent, as he moved his pawn forward once more. 

“In some instances,” you said, “strategy is certainly something the two have in common. Or the fact that both require you to think outside the box, especially when figuring out said strategies.”

A good-natured chuckle as you moved a second pawn further, freeing your knight. Jing Yuan moved his own pawn ever closer, but he hadn’t moved any of his more powerful pieces. You narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was planning. 

“There’s that sharp intellect I know so well,” Jing Yuan said, “but you’re missing one thing.”

Leaning forward, you rested your elbow against the desk, propping your chin on your folded hand. 

“And what would that be?”

A smile, playful and knowing. His eyes sparked with mirth. “You know very well what I mean.”

It was your turn to smile, maybe playing a little dumb. “I assure you, I don’t.”

“Let me give you a hint, then,” the General said, eyes fixed on your hands, watching as you shifted your knight out and onto the board, towards his closest pawn, “purpose, focus, planning. All are vital for a successful gambit, am I right?”

You watched as he moved his pawn again. This was surely a trap, for the rook waiting beyond the pawn, poised to take your knight after the pawn was captured. But you doubted Jing Yuan would do something so obvious. You moved your knight away, clearing it from danger. You needed to back up the piece with another one. 

You supposed he was right. Purpose, focus, planning. But there was also sacrifice. Any good plan required gambles, and that rang true on the chessboard as well. You moved your pawn closer to Jing Yuan’s, near ready to capture the piece. Two could play at that game. You could make sacrifices, too.

“Yes,” you said, “but the Master Diviner doesn’t seem to understand it the same way we do. She doesn’t want to take risks.”

Amusement sparked in his golden eyes, electrifying as the air around you. You twisted your fingers around the top of your pawn, adjusting it more squarely into its spot. 

“She is a careful woman. She wants everything to be accounted for. You believe in this strategy, yes? That it could work?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Naturally.”

“Then make her believe that. A firm belief in one's self commands a room. Make her see that you will handle whatever unexpected circumstances befall us.”

“Oh?” You said, heart thrumming in your chest, “me, alone? I’m just one person, General. Won’t you be helping me?”

His smile broadened, turning into a lazy grin, and when he spoke, he echoed your words from before. 

“Naturally.”

That stupid smile sent butterflies into your stomach, their wingbeats gale force strength as they battered against your lungs. It was always like this with him, something unspoken hanging in the air between you, undisturbed by years of friendship, but ever present. So you did what you always did when it reared its ugly head. You stepped aside to leave it ample room to fester. 

“I should be going,” you said, rising from your seat, “we’ll have to finish our game later. I need to finish writing the details I left out for the Master Diviner.”

“You will remain here.”

You blinked. He didn’t say it with any sort of authority, as if he was simply discussing the weather. But the firmness in his eyes told you that it wasn’t up for discussion. 

“Excuse me?” You said, voice much weaker than you’d have liked. 

“You heard me well. I have more to say, if that’s alright with you. Sit. It’s your turn.”

And so you sat.

“Really, it’s just the two of us,” Jing Yuan said, “we can speak with candor. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to discuss the details you did not get to share earlier. Leave nothing out.”

You narrowed your eyes, absently moving your pawn. “Fu Xuan is already backing your strategy, not mine. My conviction in my plan does not change, but if you were this confident in what I had already, why didn’t you speak up?”

“You know why,” Jing Yuan said, “I wanted you to fight for it. We’re only talking in circles, my dear. How will we guarantee the safety of our agents in this operation?”

Your answer was automatic, despite the rush the diminutive sent through your already electrified system.

“There is no definitive way to ensure that nothing goes wrong aside from preventative measures and ample training,” you said, voice as steady as you could keep it, “any way you slice it, it’s always going to be a bit of a gamble. What I’m suggesting is an infiltration. That kind of operation is unpredictable. You know that. In order to avoid problems, we have to be ready for anything.”

A smile. The rook took your pawn, but you expected that. Without blinking, you took the rook with your knight. Jing Yuan’s eyes flashed with excitement, a contagious grin spreading across his face.

“Excellent answer. But tell me, how will we be ready for anything if we don’t even know what that could be?”

You shrugged. “There’s no perfect way to be ready for absolutely everything. We’ll just have to try and account for what is most likely to happen if things go awry.”

“And the unlikely?”

You knew he was testing you, trying to get under your skin. You looked up at his face and away from the chessboard, the nonchalance in his expression utterly infuriating. You tried your best to remain just as nonplussed.

“I mentioned training, didn’t I?” You said, “we have to trust the operatives will know what to do in the unexpected.”

His smile broadened. “Excellent. See, if you were able to say to her what you just said to me, then we’d be getting somewhere.”

You twisted in your seat. “What makes you so sure of that?”

Another easy smile. “Am I wrong to trust the judgment of a trusted friend and advisor, especially when she’s yet to steer me wrong? I value your opinion. You know that.”

“I do,” you said, “and I value yours as well.”

“I’m hardly worthy of such an honor, I’m sure,” Jing Yuan replied, his smile growing, eyes warm.

For some reason, his words sent those aforementioned butterflies present in your stomach shooting through your bloodstream in an intoxicating rush. Shit. Those feelings were back, the complicated ones you tried to run away from earlier. The way he was smiling at you wasn’t helping in the slightest, and mortifyingly, you could feel your cheeks heating up. Why was that of all things flustering you like this? 

Aeons, you had to get out of there. You cleared your throat, expelling any improper or amorous thoughts about your superior from your mind as you straightened in your chair. 

“I really should be going, General,” you said, voice a little louder than you’d have liked, “if you’ll excuse me, I—”

“Is something the matter, _____?”

You blinked, staring at him.

You should have said something intelligent, or something to assuage his worries, but instead, all you managed was; “what?”

You cleared your throat for the second time, smoothing down the fabric of your uniform. 

“Let me rephrase,” you said, “what do you mean? What would make you think something was the matter?”

Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, almost lazily, eyes remaining fixed on you as he did so. 

“Well,” he said, “you keep trying to excuse yourself, to start. Additionally, your face is very red. Do you feel ill?”

You latched onto that. “I woke up with a headache this morning,” you said, “I’ve been all out of sorts since then, I’m afraid.”

A soft hum, then an understanding nod. “I see,” Jing Yuan said,  do you have any other symptoms?”

You shook your head. “Just a headache.”

That was a total lie, your headache had diminished to nothing more than an annoyance during the meeting, and had vanished altogether in the time you had been talking with Jing Yuan. But he didn’t have to know that. He didn’t have to know that situations like this always made you need to excuse yourself to rethink your entire working relationship with him, or that you often thought about how lovely he looked when he smiled. 

But then, he was leaning across the table, hand outstretched, and he was pressing his palm to your forehead, the skin cool against your own. It did nothing to calm your racing heart, nor the incandescent blush on your face. The butterflies in your stomach were doing an entire floor routine at this point. 

“You do not appear to have a fever,” he said, as he pulled back, “but your face is still very flushed. Are you too warm?”

You tugged at the high collar of your uniform, fingers absently catching on one of the buttons. 

“I suppose it is a little warm in here.”

Another lie. You were actually a little bit cold. Another thing he didn’t have to know. YOu had to change the subject, and fast. 

“Why is it that you value my input so much—”

“Are you embarrassed?”

The question came so suddenly it stunned you for a moment. 

“What would I be embarrassed about?” You finally managed.

“I value your opinion,” he said, “I believe that is what I said that set you out of sorts, yes? The fact that I value your input flusters you? Do you fear that that is all I value? I assure you, I not only treasure your ideas, but your presence as well. You need not feel uncomfortable here, I very much enjoy your company.”

This was not going the way you envisioned at all. You were a professional for Aeons’ sake. You straightened yourself, rising from your chair, just to put some distance between the two of you, just to catch your breath. What was he doing? It almost felt like…

“You’re teasing me,” you said finally.

You turned when he laughed, your expression a mix of emotions, but he was as cool and collected as ever. It almost made you want to slap him. Or kiss him, Aeons forbid. You shoved that thought to the deepest corner of your mind.

“I was concerned at first,” he said, “though I realized after I felt your forehead that you were not ill. I apologize for my behavior, but I’m afraid I just couldn’t help myself.”

You felt like you were going to burst into flames. “So— what you said, about— huh?”

Another laugh. “I meant every word of that. Come now, lying about such things would be unbecoming. Please, would you sit with me some more? I would very much like to finish our game.”

“No,” you said, “the game can wait. Do you not take me seriously?”

He looked briefly surprised before he answered.

“I take you very seriously, I assure you. I cannot see why you would think I wouldn’t. I apologize if I led you to think otherwise.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then why tease me?”

“I admit,” he said, “I found your reactions to be… endearing. I did not mean to offend you.”

Your heart sputtered under the new load that had been put upon it like a backfiring starskiff. You’d only ever seen hints of this before, in offhanded compliments and veiled praises, but the General had never been so overt before. Hell, you’d always been certain you were imagining it. But that single revelation brought you to a realization. 

“You weren’t just teasing me,” you said, “you were flirting with me.”

The smile grew, and you could have sworn your heart was beating in your ears. He canted his head, regarding you with a playful gaze as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk in front of him.

“And what if I was?”

You coughed, trying to clear your head as confusing emotions swam laps in your bloodstream. Damn him, making you feel like this. Did he not even realize the impropriety of all of this? Did he just not care? How stupid and blind had you been not to realize this was happening? 

“If you were,” you said, carefully, “then what does that mean, exactly?”

“You’re a smart woman” he rebuffed, “you know what it means.” 

Your brain wasn’t catching up with what he was saying as quickly as you wanted it to, which infuriated you. He was staring at you, waiting for you to say anything at all, and you turned to face him when he said your name. 

Damn it. Damn him. Damn everything. The way he was looking at you, like you put the stars in the sky, it made you feel like every cell in your body was screaming. All these years of pining for someone you thought was so unattainable was an arms reach away all along, and that not only made you feel silly, it made you feel a certain degree of strange, misdirected anger.

And as you stood there, confused and fuming and utterly scarlet in the face, you decided to do something stupid. Like, really, cosmically stupid. But really, you couldn’t think of anything to do at that moment besides that terribly stupid thing. 

“Of course,” he said, mild panic in his voice, “if you’re uncomfortable with this, it will never be spoken of again—”

Without saying anything, you crossed to his side of the desk, leaning to grab at the front of his clothing and yanking him up to meet your mouth in a kiss, effectively shutting him up and showing just how comfortable you were. 

He made a sound of surprise when your mouths met, a sound that snapped you from whatever impulsive haze that had settled over your brain. You were about to yank yourself back and apologize until you were unable to do so anymore, but then his hands found your shoulders, holding you in place, and your own fell from his clothing to catch his cheeks in your palms.

He was much taller than you, something especially evident as he rose to his full height, forcing you to stand on your tip-toes, arms slinging around his neck. His own wound around your waist, as not to let you slip away, his body quickly pulled flush against your own. 

He tasted of herbal tea and almond cookies, warm against your mouth as he deepened the kiss. It was all-consuming and passionate, and you felt Jing Yuan pull back for a mere moment, just once, before diving back in, his teeth grazing your lower lip, sending sparks dancing down your spine. Your actions were rapidly growing frenzied, almost fierce, and you could feel yourself moving, your backside making contact with the desk behind you.

You knew this was moving fast, but you couldn’t even begin to care, not when you ran your hands through his hair, drawing a soft gasp from his lips, feather soft against your own, and especially not when his hands shifted to brace on the desk, effectively caging you in. Kissing him was intense , and almost completely overwhelming. The scent of him engulfed you; orange blossom and sandalwood, as well as something earthy and herbal and him.  

He was the first one to pull back, face tinged pink as he caught his breath, eyes hooded as he watched you through lashes the color of moonlight. Aeons, he was pretty. Too pretty for his own good. Your eyes fixed to his mouth, watching as his tongue darted out, running briefly over his unfairly full lower lip. 

“I see the matter of your comfort isn’t a concern.”

You could only shake your head.

He smiled, and you felt your heartbeat flutter in your chest. 

“If it’s all the same to you,” he said, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear, “I’d like to do that again.”

You answered him by pulling him into another kiss. 

You could feel his hands on your waist, warm even through the fabric of your uniform. Gooseflesh raised on your skin as he paused, dangerously close to your hips, and your own hands laced into his hair, your fingers combing through thick, silver locks. The action drew a soft, low sound that made your blood sing with energy. It was embarrassing how quickly he got you like this, so pliable and willing, but as he nibbled at your lower lip, any thoughts of embarrassment were ejected from your mind.

His tongue slid along the seam of your lips, and you parted them, allowing him to press it against your own. Your fingers tangled into his hair, catching at the tie that held it back, and you flirted with the idea of undoing it before he was tugging you backward, away from the desk and onto the bench behind him, gathering you into his lap. The buzz of excitement took its place beneath your skin, and you shifted forward, bumping your hips against his. 

You could feel his hands trailing down your body, catching in the bend of your waist, and you wanted so badly to shift down, pressing your bodies flush together, just to see what he would do. Fuck, he’d pulled you into his lap, and the provocativity of such an action only put you more out of sorts than you already were.

Breathless, you broke the kiss, meeting his hooded gaze with your own as you rolled your hips down, and oh, the way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his grip grew tighter on your body, it sent any remaining rational thought you had right out the nearest window.  

You squeezed your thighs around his hips as you pressed yourself down again, and his jaw tightened, fingers pressing into your flesh through the fabric of your uniform. His gaze was dark as he regarded you, amber eyes sweeping across your body, seemingly hungry for what he was seeing. It thrilled you more than you thought it would. Overwhelmed, you dove forward to catch his mouth in another kiss, and he sighed into you, his lips moving languidly against your, almost indulgent as he pressed closer.

He pulled back suddenly, forehead against yours, breath heavy, and you tried to move to catch his mouth with yours again. He allowed you the impulse for a few frenzied seconds before he moved away, and for a horrible moment, you thought you’d done something wrong.

“Is this alright?” He asked, and the way his voice had deepened to a baritone rumble sent your head off into space, “you and I both know the direction this is taking us.”

You did. If you continued at this pace, you knew exactly what would happen. Anyone with common sense would know. This was something out of a dirty fantasy, something you’d shamefully thought of on lonely nights, something out of one of those silly erotic web novels you found yourself reading on boring days off. It was exciting and sexy, and you didn’t want it to stop. Here he was, the object of your pining, of your recently thought to be unrequited affections, asking what you wanted at that moment. Who were you to refuse?

“Yes,” you said, after you’d found your own voice, high and breathy in contrast to his, “I’m okay with this. I want this.”

A soft hum, and you felt your heart jump into your throat as his head dipped, mouth dragging along the bit of your throat left exposed by your uniform. You couldn’t help but gasp, almost embarrassed at your own sensitivity. 

“Aeons, you’re lovely,” he breathed, enraptured, “I am left in awe every day I see you.”

You felt your face warm, your voice lost as he peppered kisses along your jaw. His hands slid down your body to find your thighs, calloused palms pressing against the skin, left exposed by the shorts attached to your uniform. He used the grip to tug you closer, firmly pressing your pelvis against his, an action that caused both of you to gasp aloud. 

He held you in place as he rolled his hips, slow and easy, the friction making you gasp. He was already halfway hard, evident through his trousers, and the thought that you’d been the one to make him that way made intoxicating arousal flood into your bloodstream. 

His fingers caught the buttons at your collar, fumbling to push them through the buttonholes. Once that was done, you reached to the front of your waist to unfasten your belt, which was holding the top of your uniform in place. After it was loose, you slipped the garments from your body, discarding them to the floor.

You barely had time to think before Jing Yuan was exploring the newly exposed parts of you, his mouth latching onto the bend of your shoulder, the column of your throat, the underside of your chin. His hands, warm and calloused against your naked waist, made you shudder, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh as his tongue passed over your pulse point. 

You had trouble finding exactly where his armor ended and he began, but you eventually found the buckles necessary to unfasten the thick plating from his body. He helped you with this endeavor, eventually shedding his wrist guards and shirt, as well as the armor at his waist, leaving him bare chested beneath you. 

He was built powerfully, like the Aeons themselves had sculpted him by hand. Muscles rippled under the flat press of your palm, his perfect pale skin only marred by the threads of countless battle scars. Broad, strong shoulders and arms, a well-built chest, all tapering off into a trim waist. You ran your fingers down his body, feeling his muscles tense, quivering, breath catching as your thumb caught the jut of his hip bone, settling into the groove of muscle at his navel. 

His gaze was riveted to your hand as you explored his body, only dropping away when your mouth attached to his neck, teeth grazing his collarbone, making him sigh with shuddering breath. Your fingers mapped their way across his scars, and you absently wondered what the cause of each one was. You kissed the one closest to you, a thick, pale stripe of skin cutting across his left shoulder, ending just above his pectoral. You felt his nose press into your hair, and for a moment, you simply rested your cheek against his shoulder in a little bubble of intimacy that settled so perfectly into your comfort zone that you almost had trouble breaking away. 

“You’re beautiful,” you said, softly, and you heard him chuckle, the sound like a roll of thunder beneath your ear. 

“Oh, my darling,” he whispered, “that word is reserved for you.”

He drew you close and into another fierce kiss, stealing your breath from your lungs, and you could feel his hands on your back as he unfastened your bra, pushing the straps down your shoulders. You took the bra off the rest of the way, dropping it behind you as you rolled your hips against him, an action that caused him to grip at your body, and oh , you could feel him, hardness pressing neatly against your clothed cunt. Teeth clicked together as he rocked his hips, holding you against him, the friction drawing a soft, breathy moan. 

His palm slid along your body, cupping your breast, and when his thumb swiped over your nipple, you let out an embarrassingly loud gasp, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he squeezed the nipple between two fingers. You were so unexpectedly sensitive, just from this alone, a fact that would have embarrassed you if your head wasn’t so full of clouds and fluff and other emptiness, drunk on his touch.

His mouth found your pulse point again, tracing down to your collarbone, then to the valley of your breasts, and your back bowed as his hand smoothed along your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, breath and body shuddering as his lips passed over a nipple. His breath was hot as it misted over your skin, and when his lips finally caught a nipple between them, you let your head fall back, gasping and breathless. 

Jing Yuan’s tongue passed over the sensitive flesh, rolling your nipple beneath it, and he caught your opposite breast in his free hand, gently squeezing, making you whine, soft and low. The pleasure of it all felt like fire beneath your skin, burning you from the inside out, but not one part of you cared, not when he was touching you like that. 

You pushed yourself against him harder, because feeling him through clothing was rapidly becoming not nearly enough, a sentiment he clearly shared from the way you felt him groan against your skin.

“Can I touch you?” He rasped, and you nodded quickly, shifting to unfasten the tie holding your shorts closed, briefly standing to slip them off, as well as your panties, before you were moving back into his lap, completely bare. 

“You’re incredible,” he rumbled, “a goddess. I hope you know that. I am a very lucky man.”

His hand pressed against your hip, making your shift back, and your face flushed in embarrassment as he took in your naked form, gaze famished and punch drunk in love as it roved over you. 

“I want to touch you, too,” you said, and he simply smiled.

“I’m yours to do with as you please.”

His hand slipped from your hip to your thigh, and you shifted your hips back, allowing him room to maneuver as he pressed a broad palm to the apex of your thighs, causing you to gasp, hips unconsciously pressing down. His middle finger ran along the length of your entrance, aided by the soak of your arousal, slow as he pleased, leaving your head full of fog. You pressed your hips down against his hand, lip catching between your teeth as he picked up his pace, free hand gripping your hip to still you as one finger slowly sunk inside of you.

He began to move at an agonizingly slow pace, and you moaned lowly as his finger curled inside of you, hitting a spot that made stars burst across your vision. He touched you in a way that stole your breath from your lungs, and when he added another finger, his name slipped from your lips, soft and pleading.

You reached forward to fumble with the front of his trousers, managing to unsnap and unzip them after a few seconds. He hissed between his teeth as you pushed his underwear down, pulling him free, and shit, you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. Jing Yuan wasn’t a small man, so you supposed this shouldn’t have come as a shock, but he was big. He was thick, and long enough to make you nervous, and when you reached forward and wrapped your hand around him, your fingers barely even met.  

His breath hitched sharply when you touched him, and you felt him twitch against your palm, throbbing. When his fingers curled inside of you, you squeezed him, making him cry out. You touched him in slow, even strokes as your hips ground down on his hand, and when his thumb found your clit, you picked up the pace. 

His head fell against the back of the bench as you squeezed his tip, circling your thumb around him, making him groan, low and long, hips bucking into your touch. He was leaking precum, and you used it to aid in your motions, smearing it around the head of his dick, making his own motions falter for a moment.

You wanted him so badly at that moment, as you watched his pretty face twist with pleasure, with need. You could feel your climax building, winding tighter under your skin, driving a high, breathless wine from between your gritted teeth as you ground your hips down harder. When he sped up his pace to aid you, your hips jumped, heartbeat pounding in your ears, and you were grinding down on his hand like a bitch in heat. 

You really weren’t going to last, not when he knew exactly where to touch you, fingers practiced and sure, and fuck, you felt like you were melting into him, fingers slipping from his cock to grip at his shoulders, your ability to focus rapidly draining away. 

Your head dropped back in pleasure as he worked you even closer to your high, allowing him room to latch his mouth onto your throat, surely leaving marks as his teeth dragged against your skin, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even begin to care about that, not as your thoughts and senses devolved into complete delirium. 

With a final press of his thumb, you tumbled over the edge with a broken cry, nails digging into Jing Yuan’s skin as you came. He worked you through it with whispered filth and an unfaltering pace, making you sob with rapture, squirming helplessly as he worked you into overstimulation, dangerously close to a second climax before he pulled away.

You collapsed, boneless and panting against his chest, and he drew you close, mouth hot as it molded to yours, and as you shifted forward, you could feel him, pressed against your bare stomach. 

The friction made him groan, hands on your hips, blunt nails digging into your skin, but you needed more, and you knew he wouldn’t protest giving you just that. 

“How do you want me?” Jing Yuan rasped, “do you want to be on top? It may be more comfortable for you to adjust that way. I’m afraid I don’t have protection, though. That does not tend to be something I keep here in my office.”

“I’m on birth control,” you said, “it will be okay.”

After a moment of consideration, you shifted forward to press yourself against him, an action that earned a breathless groan. He felt hot against you, almost searing, and as you slowly rolled your hips, you felt his grip grow tighter, almost impatient. A spike of arousal shot through you as his jaw tightened, his restraint clearly being tested by your teasing. 

Slowly, you began to sink down. You were met with some resistance, even just the tip was a stretch, and you had to pause for a moment, just to catch your breath, which was escaping your lips in quick bursts. 

“Relax,” he urged, voice low; tone taught and fraying, “breathe. You can take it.”

A quick nod as you tried to do as he said, resting your forehead against his shoulder. You pushed down further, drawing a hushed groan, his hands slipping from your hips to your waist, gently urging you downwards. It took another few moments of adjusting before you were able to take all of him, and you sat there for a few moments, breathless and stuffed completely full. 

His head lolled back against the bench, expression stricken and lips parted, and you pulled him into a kiss, which he returned with vigor. You stayed still as you adjusted to the size, something that clearly wasn’t helping with keeping his restraint in place, evident from the way he was gripping your body, tight enough to bruise. 

Just to test the waters, you shifted forward in a slow, easy grind, and he groaned, long and low and aching. You whined into his mouth, toes curling as you rolled your hips again, just to hear that wonderful sound again. 

His hands drifted back to your hips, squeezing as you moved again, this time lifting yourself halfway up, only to take him again, and he was surely leaving bruises, absolutely holding back, especially as you thrust back down again.

“Tight,” he whispered, “it’s— fuck— it’s so tight.”

That did it for you. You put your hands on his shoulders as you picked up the pace, forcing the breath from your own lungs, rendering him speechless as he watched you, eyes fixed to where the two of you were connected, watching his thick cock disappear inside of you. 

The stretch of him made you feel like your mind had emptied itself out, and you let out a thin, breathy moan as his hips bucked up, stuffing you full as your nails dug into his shoulders. You yanked him into a messy kiss, hands lacing into his hair, and he growled against your mouth, a sound that sent shockwaves down your spine. 

Another tug at his hair, and you were moving, your back suddenly against the desk, chess pieces scattering around you as he rucked your legs up, pulling them against his hips as he pressed close. You cried out, the new angle making the tip of his cock rub just right against spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. 

You lifted your hips from the desk to meet him, propping yourself up on bent elbows as he leaned over you to join your lips to his. The pace he set was slow, but the strong impact of each thrust made it impossible for you to think , or to even speak as his hands slid along your thighs to the bend of your knees, holding you in place for him as he fucked you. 

The kiss was broken, and he rested his forehead against yours, just for a spell, before he was drawing back a little, hips pressing forward, and one of his hands was moving between your bodies, clit under his thumb, forcing you to tighten around him, forcing broken gasps from both of you. 

“Deeper,” you found yourself blurting, and he chuckled darkly against your skin.

“If that’s what pleases you.”

Your head fell back in bliss as he changed the angle, the speed picking up as well, and you could do nothing else but gasp his name, sprawling back over the desk as he reduced you to a mess, beginning to wind tighter once more, thighs trembling in his grip.

You were still sensitive from your last climax, something he was undoubtedly aware of as he touched you in all the right places, as his mouth found your breast, tongue passing over your nipple and making your back arch into his touch. It was too much, but also not nearly enough, something that was as oxymoronic as it was maddening. 

Your hands scrambled across the smooth surface of the desk before finally curling around the edge, nails digging into the wood, and you watched Jing Yuan above you with hazy eyes; watched the way his face twisted and pinched in bliss. He was thick and heavy and hot inside of you, and you were not going to last, not like this, not when he was whispering filth and praises and fucking you so deep that you could barely tell where he started and you ended. 

The pressure of his thumb on your clit picked up, and you squirmed in his hold, the back of your head knocking against the surface of the desk underneath it, your eyes squeezing closed, the delirious, desperate feeling that comes before a climax bleeding into your system, threading its way through you, leaving you utterly helpless to its pull. 

You were barely aware of what you were even saying, but you knew his name was on your lips, and you were so close that you could hardly take it, but he wasn’t slowing down, not even as you bucked and squirmed and shook under his touch. 

The edge came quicker than you’d have pleased, and your back bowed up as you came undone, trying and failing to stray quiet as your high washed over you with tidal wave force. You were throbbing around him, squeezing him tight, and you could hear him growling in pleasure, feel him twitch inside of you, only driving you higher as your eyes rolled back behind closed lids, lips parted, cheeks flushed pink. 

But he wasn’t letting up, not even as you squirmed with overstimulation, clamping a hand over your mouth to try and quiet yourself, barely able to handle the continued stimulation. The stretch of him inside of you and the feel of his thumb on your clit was making you feel like you were losing yourself, and if he knew that, he was only encouraging it. 

You wanted him to cum, to feel him lose himself too, to see it on his face as he spilled himself inside of you, just as drunk on bliss as you were. You locked your ankles together behind his body, pushing him deeper, and you got the privilege of listening to him groan.

Your second climax knocked the wind out of you, and it was only then that he was pulling his hand away, fucking you through the aftershocks of the climax, but the base of his cock was rubbing against your oversensitive clit, prolonging your high, and building you towards another one. 

His hand found your hip, holding you down as his pace picked up to something almost punishing as he chased his own climax, and you found yourself scrambling forward to grab onto him, kissing him hard and deep, hips moving with his and making him moan into your mouth, grip tightening on your body as he pushed you back onto your back, one hand flattening on your lower stomach to hold you down as he thrust all the way in, staying close as he rolled his hips in slow, deep rocks that made you feel like you were burning alive, but you could do no more than lay there and take it as he worked you into another dizzying climax.

It hit you with a force that made you scream, forcing you to clamp a hand over your mouth, the tears that had caught in your lashes leaking down your cheeks, and his thrusts were growing uneven, breath unsteady. You felt him shudder, hips twitching, sending jolts of almost painful pleasure through your spent body, making you whine. 

With a low, unrestrained moan, he was thrusting deep as he could go, and you could feel him trembling , grip iron tight on your body as he spilled inside of you, and you pulled him down into a fierce kiss, bucking your hips to work him through his climax. He moaned against your mouth, gasping your name when you deliberately squeezed around him, breaking the kiss to sink his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his unrestrained cries.

You felt him begin to soften inside of you, though he remained close, arms wrapped around your body as you gasped for breath. It was with almost palpable reluctance that he pulled out, and after gathering you into his arms, he was falling back to sit on the bench behind him, chest heaving, eyes closed.

A few moments passed of just laying together before he was moving for a drawer in his desk, and you realized he was reaching for a package of tissues, which he used to wipe your thighs clean, depositing the tissue in the trash can tucked beneath the desk. You grabbed your panties from the floor, tugging them back on before settling beside him once again.

“I didn’t picture that happening for the first time here,” he said, after a few moments of comfortable silence, “though I can’t say I’m complaining.”

Despite everything, you felt your cheeks warm. It was definitely comical that you were blushing at that of all things after he’d just fucked your brains out, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped.

“Where did you picture it?” You asked, settling closer to him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Preferably my bedroom,” he said, “or yours. I wanted to at least take you out first. Call me old fashioned, but I’m quite fond of the act of courtship.”

You smiled. “We can still do that.”

A chuckle. “Yes. You’re quite right.”

For as long as possible (and until you started to get cold), the two of you sat curled up together on the bench before Jing Yuan suggested getting dressed, which didn’t sound like a bad idea. But it wasn’t until you tried to stand that you realized that might be a problem. 

“This is your fault,” you said, as he helped you put your shorts back on, and he smiled, as calm as ever.

“And I’d do it again.”

That, you weren’t ashamed to say, made you blush. From the smirk on his face, that was exactly his intention. You shot him a glare, but it was short lived when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, offering you a hand to help you up.

Your legs were still wobbly, but with his support, you were able to stand. 

“Well, love,” he said, “since we’re doing things in reverse order, how about lunch? We can take the rest of the day off, go back to my home?”

You leaned closer to him, lacing your fingers tight with his. “I’d like that.”

He kissed you, slow and gentle, before he led you from the Seat of Divine Foresight, leaving the mess of forgotten chess pieces scattered across the floor, chatting happily about what restaurants he thought you’d like. 

You never did finish that game.

Though, of course, there would be others in the future. 

[storiesabouteli]

Amid Cares. // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff)

prompt: You are sick (kidney crisis) and Eli stays with you! Dealing with the fact that you're used to not needing anyone, and Eli will have to handle that.

words: 2,3k.

Eli slept with his mouth slightly open. He didn’t snore, but made a soft, comforting whistling sound. You wrapped your arms around his torso, wishing the pain would just fade away. Before falling asleep, you had told Eli you weren’t feeling well. He nodded, suggesting you could eat in the morning. You didn’t like worrying him, yet you liked how concerned he became for you. His brows furrowed, and he had this gentle look—it was kind of funny. “Do you want me to make something else for you?” He ran his hand over your shoulders, which were indeed warm, and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed earlier.

You had a sandwich he’d made sitting in front of you, but it felt impossible to eat, even if you wanted to. You stared at the pastel-colored plate, biting your lip, reminding yourself it hadn’t even been a week since you moved in together, and there you were, already about to mark this moment with chaos. “I’m just tired, I need to sleep, El.” He nodded, eyeing you like someone watching a child tell a lie. You didn’t catch much of what he said—couldn’t really string the words together—but he handed you a painkiller and lay down next to you.

The room was dark, his faint post-shower scent lingered, his arm was wrapped around you while your face was buried in his chest. It felt therapeutic, like it might work. Then, minutes later, you were staring into the void, trying to convince yourself the pain would ease, though it was only getting worse. Eli’s dark circles were more noticeable than usual (he never actually had them), and he usually fell asleep fast, yet he spent the night massaging your back and kissing your forehead until you finally dozed off and he could do the same. It was unfair.

“El,” you sighed deeply; moving your body felt like a chore. You cupped his face, looking at him, repeating his name with a heavy chest. “El, babe, I think I need to see a doctor.” Your weak, cracked voice made him open his eyes quickly. His hands moved through your hair, then down your back.

He was groggy, his curls slightly undone. You were hotter than before, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” he whispered, sitting up with you still pressed against his chest. He paused, expecting a little laugh from you, but it didn’t come. You shivered from the cold, wondering if he noticed just how much you avoided causing trouble. “El,” you weren’t sure if you were going to answer—your body felt limp, like a silent cry for help. His lips touched your forehead, and he gently laid you down on the pillow, chuckling softly in solidarity, making you believe everything would be okay.

He knew how much you hated hospitals—more than most people—and it triggered a quiet discomfort in him. “It’s all good, huh? I’ll grab a coat for you, and we’ll go.” You nodded, feeling his lips warm against your skin too. He moved calmly around the room, which was usual compared to you. Well, on closer look, he wasn’t exactly calm; he just didn’t want to make you panic, and it was working. You were feeling less anxious, not imagining worst-case scenarios.

He opened the wardrobe, knowing exactly where you’d placed your documents, and grabbed what was needed. You found it endearing that he remembered, especially since the house was still new for both of you. Despite your back feeling like it was falling apart, you smiled at him, even if just a little.

…

Eli walked with you to the car and made you comfortable in the seat, at least as much as possible. He turned on the radio, just random people talking, but it gave you new things to focus on. It was a quick trip, every now and then, you could feel his eyes on you; still, you didn't speak or open your eyes. The sound helped, although it was becoming hard to ease your pain. "El, it hurts a lot." He heard your words come out cold; your intention was to verbalize it, as if saying it out loud would make it pass.

He pressed his hand against your abdomen; his touch was comforting, and the warmth of his body felt good. Your head settled better against the pillow, and you realized you had lost track of time. You were aware of how you got there; you just couldn't clearly recall each step in your mind. Tears welled up in your eyes, panic leaving Eli a bit breathless.

"Shh, babe. It’s not going to be anything serious, you’ll see, right? They’ll medicate you, check that it’s nothing serious, and soon we’ll be home." He looked pale, but his voice was steady. You wonder if Eli would be good with kids? He wrapped his arm tighter around your waist, and even though your head hurt too, nothing seemed to improve, despite the adrenaline.

Eli ended up sitting beside you, resting his cheek on your belly, holding your hand, and gazing at your face. His thumb traced patterns on your skin, every now and then, he rubbed his face against you. You heard him sigh, a slight exchange of smiles; honestly, panicking only made it worse. Having Eli there, working hard to provide new stimuli for your brain and giving a gentle nudge to your stubborn neurons, was helping a lot.

You placed your hand on his head, weaving your fingers through his curls, which made him close his eyes, until a nurse entered the room, asking about your condition and pain level. You answered modestly, and Eli let out a breath of denial. "It hurts more than that; it started last night. The ibuprofen from yesterday didn’t last two hours; it just kept escalating ‘til it became unbearable." His voice sounded hoarse, tired yet alert. He glanced at his phone, and you smiled through a moan, noticing he had written down the time you took your last dose and when you would need to take it again. The nurse laughed too, thanking him.

"Sure," she said, glancing between you and Eli with a friendly expression. "What exactly are you feeling? Did it come on suddenly?" She continued, mentioning that she’d be back with some medication in a few minutes. You took a deep breath, briefly meeting her eyes before turning to Eli, who was holding your hand. You hadn’t expected it to escalate this much, but you knew what it was—and that you’d have to admit you'd been neglecting it a little. No excuses, you had just prioritized other things.

The silence was short, but in those few moments, despite her caution, you felt judged, as if your own thoughts were weighing you down. You felt guilty for not telling Eli sooner. You hadn’t wanted to burden him; he had his own life. "Do you want some space? I can wait in the hallway," he offered gently. You shook your head, his calm gaze steady on you. You didn’t want him to leave.

"The pain is in my lower back," you said, starting to sit up before she could help. Eli was quicker, steadying you himself. "I’ve had a lot of cramping, abdominal pain too, nausea, and I’ve been urinating frequently." Your eyes lingered on Eli’s hands, still interlaced with yours, his thumb moving in soothing circles. He didn’t know everything, but maybe he should have—he always asked, after all.

"Is this the first time?" she asked, preparing the needle. You turned your face into Eli's sweater, not wanting to watch. He kissed the top of your head, his touch as gentle as ever, without a trace of anger. "No," you sighed. "Well, maybe not this bad before. But now, it really hurts. I should’ve taken better care..."

"Yeah," she said, honestly. "Do you think it's a kidney issue?" she ventured, though it was already clear that it likely was, though understandable that it could have been something else. You nodded, "I’ve been growing a few stones." You stayed still as Eli’s broad fingers gently traced your arms. You had found out about this months ago—it was something you should have shared, something he would have shared with you. Now, it felt like a lie you’d been keeping.

The nurse gave you a light scolding, which you accepted as deserved, and Eli chuckled, promising to keep an eye on you. Since you hadn’t updated anyone on your condition recently, they said you’d need to stay under observation for a while. She left the room with the clipboard, and Eli answered a few more personal details about you. For some reason, that made you smile at nothing in particular. The medication was finally kicking in.

When the door clicked shut, you closed your eyes for a moment. Eli's hand rested on your abdomen, his lips pressed light, repetitive kisses to your forehead until a small smile broke through your discomfort. "Still hurting, poppy?" His voice was cautious, eyes slightly watery, the tip of his nose red. He wasn’t crying—maybe he was sad—but mostly, he looked exhausted. "No," you whispered, a little afraid of what would come next. You couldn’t meet his gaze.

"Are you tired?" His fingers brushed your cheek, and he noticed you weren’t warm anymore, visibly relieved. You felt the weight lift off his shoulders. "Kind of, but the pain is finally going away." He nodded. His expression was unreadable, but you felt an obligation to look at him, to talk about it, though you knew he would bring it up later.

"I'm sorry, I feel like a liar." Your eyes filled with tears, and you weren’t quite sure why. "You just kept it to yourself. I wish you’d told me. I would’ve taken care of you, given you support, you know?" He wasn't angry, and you knew he’d always be there for you, but the feeling was strange nonetheless.

"I can handle this on my own. It’s not something you need to worry about, El." Your words came out bitter, but they flowed naturally. This was how you usually were. Eli had gotten used to it, knowing it would take time for you to open up that side of yourself. He gave a small smile, and you figured he wasn’t mad because he was still so close to you, both in presence and touch.

"I didn’t mean for it to come out that way..." you added, but he squeezed your hand, signaling that he understood. "I know you can handle things on your own, but I don’t want you to have to. I don’t really get why you try so hard not to need me, like you’re some kind of burden. The thing is," he paused, swallowing to get rid of the lump in his throat. His words were steady, even as he took a few heavier breaths, "I’m here because I want to be, whether you like it or not," he smiled, and you laughed, following the light in his eyes. "You’re not a burden at all, I’d do it all over again."

You took his words in, studying his face softly. "You need to remind me to drink water; it’s not as simple as it seems." He laughed quietly, the sound filling the room with warmth. He assured you he would.

Your body felt more relaxed now, both from what Eli had said and the effect of the medication. Sleep was creeping in, fatigue from the discomfort finally catching up. The bed was spacious, and you didn’t expect it, but Eli sat beside you, awkwardly positioning himself next to you and wrapping his arm around you to make sure you were comfortable.

"Are you staying the night?" you asked, his chest vibrating comfortingly against you. He nodded, as if it were obvious to him, though not as much to you. "Shouldn’t you tell the guys you won’t be there tomorrow?" You lifted yourself a little to look at him, a sudden mental reminder popping up. He simply guided your head back to his shoulder, stroking your hair.

"I told them before you fell asleep at home. I wasn’t planning on going," he murmured. Knowing you were his priority made your body tingle, but not in a bad way. It was unfamiliar, but good. Hearing him refer to your place as "home" made you happy.

You nestled closer to him, your hand slipping under his shirt to feel the warmth of his waist as he held you tightly. "I’m glad you’re here, El." Speaking it aloud was your way of letting him know how much you appreciated everything, even if it seemed normal to him. And Eli knew you needed someone there—the way you gripped his hand, the fearful look in your eyes. He had heard your stories, learned about your discomfort in these settings. He could easily picture you waking up in a few hours, each test making your mind jump to new conclusions about your condition. He wanted to be there for you, and he would be.

"It’s fine, but just to be clear, I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to." You chuckled, your mind growing calm as his fingers worked their way into your hair. This time, it was the steady hum of your body that made him feel more grounded.

[sunnynwanda]

Hello! I Absolutely ADORE your writing. Could you please write on my idea if you like it? Just your everyday hero and villain, and their relationship.

They both used to fight nail and tooth, ready to murder eachother, well versed in what would maim their so called enemy. Then would also take the other in their arms as gently as possible and heal them anytime they're hurt, physically or mentally.

Until villain dissapears. When the hero finds them painstakingly after months, they're in their weakest state, just living by on medecine they're about to run out and vitamins instead of food

Turns out, supervillain was going to attack and maim the hero as part of their plan, but the villain stopped them, and willingly took the attack for their darling hero.

Villain has a new complex now "I cant feel pain or hunger anymore" they say as they walk on broken glass in front of their hero, who wishes for nothing else but to hold them against their chest and not let go until They get their lover back

Dream

Warnings: injuries, medication use, self-isolation, mentions of death, angst with happy ending?

It's been months since Villain has seen the light of day. They couldn't leave the house because there were too many stairs on the porch - six, to be precise. After trying for a month and not getting past the third without collapsing, they gave up on the idea. They couldn't open the curtains because sunlight hurt them, burning their retina with a pain they never imagined could come from something they loved so much.

They couldn't walk around the house either. It would usually take three breaks to get to the kitchen and pour water into a glass to take a handful of painkillers and vitamins - the only thing keeping them alive. Both their forearms were covered in punctures from the catheters they used to get IV fluids. Their medical skills had kept both them and Hero alive more than on one occasion, but now it was their lifeline.

At first, they retained hope that it would get better. One day, they could walk to the kitchen without breaks. One day, they'd be able to lift a hand high enough to reach the top cabinets and the duvet on their bed wouldn't feel as heavy. One day, they would walk out of the house.

One day.

They gave up on the thought, the dream, five months into their miserable existence. They had tried to cut their hair that day, but the scissors were stuck with rust. Or so they told themself. Villain threw them out of the bathroom and broke the window on the door. They've been walking on shattered glass ever since, too weak to pick it up.

Villain spent most days on the armchair near the fireplace. They couldn't light it, but the spot was optimal to minimise the distance to the kitchen, bathroom and their bed. Not that they slept much, their mind being too busy to rest - yet too tired to think clearly. That was the worst part of Villain's new reality. Their mind was as sound and sharp as ever, but their body had failed them.

They thought of Hero when it got especially rough. The most unbearable moments would become tolerable when they replayed their memories. Hero always said they had a vivid imagination, and for that, Villain was grateful. They could almost hear Hero's laugh ringing in their ears; could almost see the dimple on their cheeks when they grinned brightly. They could still remember every speck around Hero's irises, every freckle on their nose, every... everything.

They could remember everything about Hero. The way their arms would wrap around Villain when they were injured or feeling down because nothing seemed to work out. The way their body felt in Villain's arms. The way their voice shook violently that one time Villain hid a wound and ended up on their deathbed.

If they tried hard enough, they could almost feel Hero's hands brushing their hair away from their face, their touch feather-light and so so gentle. Sometimes, they would lie face down on their pillows, pretending it was Hero's chest. Their frenzied mind would delude them into thinking they could feel Hero's heartbeat under their ear, and that was enough. It was enough to know that Hero was smiling, laughing, breathing. That Hero was alive.

Alive.

That word alone was worth any and every way Villain's body was broken and maimed. Every second of aching and despair was worth it because Hero was their greatest pain. Their greatest weakness. Their everything.

It wasn't much of a choice. The moment Villain saw the ray gun in Supervillain's hands, aimed at Hero - their Hero - they knew what they had to do. Hero couldn't even see them, busy fighting off a distraction set up by Supervillain. Villain didn't have time to think, though there was no need for that either. In a matter of seconds, they were in front of Supervillain, the gun barrel pressed to the middle of their chest and their knife sinking into Supervillain's heart. Another instance that had them thankful for their medical background. Supervillain fired, the heat ray sinking into Villain's chest and spreading all over their being, crushing every bone, constricting every muscle. Villain didn't care. It was the last thing Supervillain would do, and that was what mattered to them. Hero was safe.

They held on pure adrenaline for another thirty minutes - enough to get into their car and get to the one location Hero didn't know about. The house they bought with one purpose in mind - retiring from their respective jobs and simply living. Deep in the woods, away from the personas they had adopted for god knows what reasons. Villain couldn't remember anymore.

But the house meant for happiness became their prison. The cage that kept the broken creature after the circus left. They regretted it in moments of weakness. Not their sacrifice. God no. They would never regret saving Hero.

They regretted disappearing. Remorse was eating them alive every time they heard on the news that Hero was searching for them. They would repent at night, begging for forgiveness, but come morning, one look in the mirror would solidify their determination to stay behind. Villain knew Hero would never abandon them. But that was what scared them the most. Being a responsibility. Being a burden. Being Hero's cross to bear.

During moments like that, death didn't seem such a bad option. Quite frankly, Villain had no idea why they insisted on living. It shouldn't have been so hard in their current state. But a stupid, defiant part of them still held out hope. Or maybe they were too much of a coward to do it by their own arms.

When the door creaks open, Villain can't even be bothered to get up from their seat. Instead, they turn their head, patiently waiting for whoever had discovered them to come and end their suffering once and for all. When Hero appears in the doorway, walking carefully to avoid any potential booby traps, Villain jumps up from their seat. They don't even know where they got the strength from.

No, no, no, no, no.

It's the only thought going through their mind, feverish with denial and hope. Excruciating, shattering hope that's ripping their lungs apart, making them choke on their own blood, bringing them to their knees before they can even process that they are collapsing. Hero is next to them in seconds, cradling their head with anguished desperation.

"Baby..." They whisper hoarsely, tears streaming down their face, but Villain pushes them away, scrambling to their feet. Hero rushes after them, catching them in time when their knees buckle under them. "Wait, hold on!"

"NO!" Villain doesn't recognise their own voice, panic filling their eyes when Hero's strong arms wrap around their frail body. Hero shudders at the feel of Villain's small form under their touch. "No..."

"Villain, stop!" Hero snaps, watching in horror when their bare feet step on broken glass. It's already covered in dry blood, and Hero can only guess how long they've been taking this path, tearing the skin of their feet apart.

Villain shakes their head, determination colouring their features again. "Kill me. I can't feel pain," Villain pleads, their voice sounding bone-weary, "or hunger, or thirst, or... Please, just end me. I can't... I can't feel anything anymore."

Hero doesn't respond, picking them up in a smooth movement and holding them against their painfully heaving chest. "Shh, I've got you." They press their forehead to Villain's, speaking in a low, soothing voice. "I've got you, baby."

They carry Villain back into the living room, lowering themself on the couch, keeping Villain cradled in their lap as they cup Villain's jaw, pressing desperate, tearful kisses all over their face. "I've found you, baby. I'm not letting go of you ever again."

When soft sobs start raking through Villain's tiny body, Hero hugs them closer to their chest, burying their face in Villain's overgrown hair and kissing their head, temples and face until Villain falls asleep in their arms. Only then does Hero pick them up again, carrying them to the car and driving to the city at an ungodly speed to get to a hospital.

Villain doesn't wake up until hours later, when the doctors have taken care of their injuries and reassured Hero that recovery - albeit a slow one - was achievable. When Villain peels their eyes open, it takes them a moment to adjust to the sunlight shining through the open window.

Hero notices Villain stirring immediately, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, still not letting go of their hand. They bring it to their mouth, pressing a tender kiss to their lover's knuckles. "I'm here, baby."

Villain cannot find it in them to respond. They close their eyes, letting out a soft exhale of relief, unable to process that Hero was not another one of their delusions. This was real.

That "One day" they'd been waiting for.

The dream.

A/N: Hi, darling! Took me long enough, I know :') Thank you for this idea and for reading my stories! <3 It took me some time to wrap my head around this idea, it had been simmering in the back of my mind for some time now and I'm glad to have it out for all of you. I hope you enjoy reading this, even though I might have deviated a bit. Love, Sunny xo

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

[auspicioustidings]

Hey hope your doing well! Could I request Price with a really shy civilian reader?

Ohhh so I am going to cheat a little here and actually expand a little small AU I did before for this, I hope you don't mind soulmate AUs! (If you do you shall need to get your butt back into the ole inbox and I shall do something else) <3

You did not want to die. You especially did not want to die because of a bloody maniac seeing fit to blow up the building that you worked in. 

You could barely breathe with all the smoke and debris in the air, but at least the floor hadn't collapsed yet. Couldn't be long though, you could hear the building letting out great sighs as if struggling to stay upright. If it came down, you were toast. You took a breath and rubbed a hand to the raised words on your collarbone to steady yourself. Old habit. Your words had been there since you were born, the handwriting so bad that everyone assumed you must have a doctor for a soulmate. 

You broken love?

The only saving grace of this was that the office had actually been closed due to the aircon being busted. Of course, you had to have left your bloody laptop charger and had to have chosen to go get it when there was a terrorist attack, of course. Not much for it but to start crawling in what you were sure was the direction of the door to the stairwell.

It was a struggle, you were pretty sure in the initial blast your whole left side had been thoroughly fucked up so you had to pull yourself along on your right side, but you made it to the stairwell.

You took a breather and leaned heavily against the wall, trying to steel yourself for continuing on down the stairs. Wait, there were people coming up the way. That was very much the wrong way to be going. 

One of them bit out a curse and leaned over you. All you could think about in your state was how kind his eyes looked.

"Wasn't told there was anyone else left in the building Captain" one of the men said to the one leaning over you.

"You broken love?"

Oh. Oh.

"I'd probably be ok calling you Captain in bed."

The other men were howling with laughter, but you were mostly out of it now with pain and the rush of endorphins that came from those words on your collarbone finally settling fully into your skin.

"We can discuss that later sweetheart, let's get you out of here."

-

God you were a pretty thing weren't you? Had passed out the moment he had lifted you in his arms, like you had known that moment you were safe. You'd always be safe with him, after all he had fought his way to become a Captain to find you, the words wrapped around his left forearm always pushing him forward.

His boys were happy for him he knew, Ghost already taking over the rest of the op to allow him to be here for you when you woke up. They had already killed or captured most of the terrorist ring, the building sweep was just clean up.

The paramedics said you weren't in any immediate danger, pretty bashed up though. Suspected break on your left arm, suspected fracture on the leg, some light burning on your face and neck. Price went with you in the ambulance to the hospital, holding your hand as you dipped in and out of consciousness and babbled away nonsense at him. Even when you had gotten the x-rays you were loopy as hell, the doctors said it was stress, exhaustion and pain, prescribing a heavy dose of painkillers and a good night's sleep.

When you eventually woke up properly, you were warm and cosy in a bed. You felt awful. You looked down to find your arm in a cast and your leg in a splint. You were also... Well, clean. And wearing clothes that were definitely not yours.

"Morning love."

You squeaked and dragged the blankets right up to the bridge of your nose, peeking over to see an incredibly handsome man standing by the door of what was not your bedroom. Wait did you know him? It felt like you did. What on earth had happened?

He laughed and it was the most gorgeous sound you had ever heard which made the tips of your ears burn and your heart race.

"You broken love?"

Wait those were your... only when you shifted to touch your words they were already settled into your skin. He had said them to you before. That's why you knew him. He said them when he had found you in your building, when you thought you had been dying. And you had said...

You would quite have liked for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, but you settled for pulling the blankets all the way over your head and hiding in the hopes he would never look at you again. You could not believe your first words to your soulmate had been about calling him Captain in bed. You were mortified. You would never in a million years have said something like that if you hadn't been delirious from the shock.

You heard his footsteps and the crinkling of his clothes as he crouched next to the bed, the feeling of a warm hand landing on your head over the blanket.

"Don't tell me you're embarassed now love, I've not even told you about what you were saying when I was trying to give you a bath" he laughed.

Jail, jail for this man. You would fix this by simply never emerging from this cocoon again. This was your home now. Even if he was petting at your head and you knew it would feel so much better without the duvet between your hair and his hand. Oh God the thought made you snake your good hand out of the safety of the blankets to snatch a pillow back inside and scream into it.

John Price thought you were adorable. He knew you were shy, you had babbled to him about it last night while he was gently trying to keep your cast out of the water in the bath. It had been you that stripped off and him trying desperately to slow you down, knowing you were off your head on pain meds. But you wanted a bath and he couldn't let you do that on your own in the state you had been in.

You'd told him all about yourself in broken jumbles of words. Your name (he had immediately tested in on his tongue and found it fit there), your favourite colour (he'd paint the walls on Monday), how it was so nice to be able to talk to him because usually you would be way too shy and he was so handsome and kissable (he was more than willing to prove you absolutely correct about him being kissable when you were sober minded).

You hadn't been kidding about being shy. He liked that more than he thought he would, that his soulmate was this sweet, soft thing who was so flustered over so small a flirtation. Oh he couldn't wait to see all the ways he could made colour deepen your skin, find all the words that would have you squeaking and trying to hide away.

"Sorry for teasing, couldn't help myself. Will you come out please? Let me see that pretty soulmate of mine?" he said with the gentle affection of a man finally content in life.

He coaxed you out like one might do a nervous kitten, no sudden movements, light sounds of encouragement. And when you finally looked at him your hand moved to your collarbone out of habit to trace your words, although you winced in pain when you bumped the cast.

"Try not to move it too much love, we can do some exercises to keep your mobility up after breakfast."

You nodded, still looking up at him with those big nervous eyes. He smiled at you and pushed up his sleeve, laying his forearm on the bed and letting you see the words there.

"They're yours, you know. I'm yours" he said, like the concept came as easy to him as breathing.

And as you gingerly reached out with your good hand to trace the words, you couldn't help but whisper the word mine before taking his hand and pressing it to your collarbone.

"Yours."