#i have a headache and it hurts to blow my nose

[godmadeaterribleerror]

There Comes a Breaking Point

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, smut (p in v sex, handjobs, face sitting), light angst, light fluff too, humor, love confession, truth serum.

Summary/Warnings: Sam drinks a truth potion, and you and Dean have to deal with the consequences, and very painful and beautiful revelations.

Author's Note: Request from @youdontknowe! Tormented Sam so bad last time I had people advocating for his release.

Word Count: 6.1k

This is going to be a problem. You don’t have to look at Dean’s tensed body and scowl to know that this is going to be a problem.

“Run it over one more time, Sammy, and explain why the hell you thought this was a good idea.”

Sam sighs, and he’s spent the past hour looking a little bit like a child that just got caught eating sharpies to see if the different colors had different flavors.

This isn’t that.

It’s worse.

“It was thirsty,” he mutters. “And it doesn’t hurt. It’s kind of tingly on my brain, but it actually feels pretty good, dude. Like an orgasm-“

“Sam.” You mutter. “We talked about this. Don’t poke the bear.”

“But the bear was asking to be poked, and you poke the bear all the time-“

You shake your head. “That’s different-“

“Right, cause he loves you-“

You flush, right as Dean lets out a cough that could rival thunder.

“I- I’m not- Shut your fucking face, Sam, and get the hell back on topic-“

“I’m sorry, but I can’t not say it.” Sam looks back to you with a desperate plea of your name. “You know I can’t, I’m trying but it’s literally impossible-“

“Then try fucking harder-“

“Dean.” You place your hand over his—gripping the chair in the war room like he’s struggling not to throw it at the wall, and knowing him, he might be—until he looks at you.

Sam had said earlier that Dean goes gooey when he looks at you. You’d told him you didn’t know what that means, and he’d tried to make a mimicking face of it, but mostly just ended up looking like an idiot.

And you hadn’t believed him. Sam may have been right in his brutal you always know what Dean needs before he asks for it observation, but that was because you’d trained yourself to do that. To take care of him, when nobody else does, or ever has. It had become your silent purpose, because Dean may stitch you up after every hunt and make sure you eat every night, but you’re the one who takes all the harsher blows on purpose, and who does his laundry—and Sam’s, but they both seem to think a shirt is wearable right up until you get blood on it, and that simply cannot be the bar—and puts water on his nightstand after a worse day, because you know he’s going to drink and you don’t want him to get a headache. 

Apparently, Sam’s noticed all of that. And you’d been alright with it—you didn’t really try to hide how you do that—right up until he added that he knows you bake those pies instead of buying them at the store, and that you hate old movies but watch them because Dean likes them, and that that shampoo and conditioner in the Dean’s showers hasn’t just been magically replacing itself like he thinks.

“How the fuck do you know that one?” You’d muttered, and Sam had just shrugged.

“Because I use my own shampoo and conditioner, duh. And it’s expensive, so if there was a secret shampoo wizard in the bunker, I wouldn’t have to order new stuff online every month.” Sam had paused for a few seconds, making an almost adorable, puppy-like face of shock at the air. “Huh. That feels good to admit. I can finally stop hiding my orders.”

You’d stared at him. “You order stuff to the bunker?”

“No, I have a secret P.O box. Separate from our group one.”

“You what-“

“I don’t want to grab another one of your dildos on accident.” He’d wrinkled his nose at the air. “That was traumatizing, by the way. But not as bad as getting Dean’s porn magazines, I- There was one whole edition that was just photos of girls that looked like you, I think he had it custom made-“

“Sam.” You’d whispered, a little worried that—if he kept going—you’d burn yourself alive. “Please shut up.”

“I can’t. I’m trying, but it just keeps coming out.”He’d pouted at you. “What the hell was in that thing? I mean, I feel great, but wow it’s strong. I think I’m gonna go call Eileen and tell her I love her-“

You’d used the full weight of your body to slam him back down into his chair. “Do not do that, Sam-“

“Why, I thought you guys loved her too-“

“Because,” you’d sighed, rubbing at your eyes as you spoke. “If you call Eileen, you’re probably going to tell her you’re proposing next month. And I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Oh. Good call.” Sam had stayed seated, but frowned at you all the same. “Is Dean headed back?”

You’d glanced down to your phone. “Yeah, he should be. Said he would, but I didn’t explain what was happening, so maybe he got distracted-“

Sam had snorted. “If you asked him to come back, he’s not getting distracted by anything.”

“What does that mean-“

“He’s obsessed with you,” Sam had rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, you’re like a sister to me, and-“

“I’m like a sister to Dean, too.” You’d muttered, your tone a lot more bitter than you’d wanted, and Sam had only scoffed.

“No. He loves you. Actually, I love you, but Dean’s in love with you.”

You’d shaken your head, and tried to work out how you could literally sink into the earth.  ““Sam-“

“It’s annoying,” he’d half-whined your name, like this was somehow actually your problem to fix. “All the time he’s just looking at you, and talking about you, and moping about how you flirt with other men at bars-“

You’d frowned at him. “I don’t flirt at bars. At all.”

“I know, cause you love him, and I’ve tried to tell him that but suddenly the asshole’s all good with a life of celibacy.” Sam had let out a loud, dramatic sigh, and you’d snorted.

“Dean is not celibate.”

“He is now. Why’d you think he’s been so grumpy all the time.”

“Cause he’s Dean-“

“Nah, this is worse than usual. You just don’t notice cause he’s still all mushy and sweet with you.” 

“Fucking- Sam-“

“It was a little better when he was still masturbating.” Sam had hummed. “But then I walked in on him shouting your name, and now he doesn’t. I’m kind worried it’s gonna kill him.”

You’d just stared at Sam, unable to find words that weren’t pleas to either be shot or woken up from this half-nightmare, half-daydream, and Sam had just kept fucking talking.

“And he makes this face!” Sam had shouted, and you’d considered finding a very firm book in the library to beat your own head in with.

Even now, as you and Sam explained the situation to Dean, the brain bashing was very much still on the table. Because if you looked really close, you could see something shift in Dean’s expression when he met your eyes.

But that might just be the exhaustion. It’s been a pretty average day, but a long fucking three hours.

“He can’t help it.” You mutter, nodding your head to Sam. “We just have to ride it out until Rowena picks up the phone.”

Dean’s jaw ticks, and Sam clears his throat, his voice soft and careful.

“If it helps,” he mumbles your name, giving you an apologetic look. “She’s the one who put the potion there.”

“Sam.” You hiss. “Why would that help-“

“He doesn’t get mad at you!” Sam’s whining voice was back, and you’re a little worried the potion has done something to his general brain functions as well. “And who the hell leaves something like that in the fridge-“

“Me! I leave it there, because Rowena said it needs to be refrigerated Dean knows not to drink it, and you always ask for a nutrition breakdown!”

“But I was thirsty-“

“Sammy.” Dean grumbles, running a hand over his face. “Don’t yell at her.”

“I- She yelled at me-“

“I know, Sammy. Still don’t yell at her. And,” Dean mutters your name, a slight amusement on his face. That’s a good sign. Dean doesn’t really do amused when he’s really angry. “Take a page from your own book. He can’t help it.”

You roll your eyes. “Shove up your ass, Winchester.”

“That’s not nice, sweetheart-“

“It’s nicer than the other place I’d tell you to shove it.” You mumble, and Dean stares at you for a long second, the cutest confusion you’ve ever seen written all over his face.

“Uh,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Unless you’re planning to like, cut me open, I don’t really have any other holes-“

“You’ve got one other hole.” 

You can see the moment it hits him, and you don’t bother to hide your giggle at the slack shock in his face.

“Son of a- Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he says your name, shaking his head like he’s trying to physically remove the idea and moving a hand to cover his crotch. “I should let you take the lead on the interrogations some time, you’re-“

"Amazing?” You hum, smiling at him in a slightly manic way you’ve long forgotten how to fight in Dean’s presence. “Perfect? A miracle and blessing on the universe-“

“Terrifying.” Dean cuts you off with a grin. “Little Dean’s gonna have a heart attack-“

“Yeah, cause you have a boner, man.” Sam groans, and you whip to see him making a face of disgust at you and Dean. “Shit, could she like, wade through cow shit and you’d still get hard?”

“Sam.” Dean grunts, and Sam just rolls his eyes.

“No, don’t Sam me, you guys were just eye-banging, right in front of me. It’s so gross-“

“Sam-“

Dean’s warnings continue to be ignored, and the brain bashing become more and more of a viable option.

“Dean, I’ve seen you get hard cause she threatened to punch you, and I mean like, fine, but you were sitting next to me in the booth, man. I couldn’t get up, or the whole diner would see. And you,” he waves a loose hand in your direction. “Are just as bad! I’ve see the drool when he takes off his shirt, and you laugh way too much at his jokes. I love you, dude, I do, but you are not half as funny as you think you are.”

Dean’s scowl doesn’t waver. “Sammy, I’m gonna knock your lights out if you keep talking.”

“Sure, whatever, just go have sex after. I can’t fucking take this anymore, you keep making heart eyes at each other while I’m eating. It’s exhausting.”

You’re going to sink into the earth. Or turn into sheer air, or run and never stop until you drop dead, and you’re reborn as a bug all the way across the world. 

Dean’s walking away. He might want to hear this even less than you do, because at least for you it’s a little true. For Dean, it’s just Sam losing his mind.

It has to just be Sam losing his mind.

You’ve spent too many years telling yourself that Dean simply doesn’t love you back, and that’s okay, for it not to be Sam losing his mind-

“You should follow him.” Sam says, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“He needs space, Sam-“

“No, he needs you.”

You swallow. It’s just Sam losing his mind.

Sam says your name carefully. “I know-“

“I’m going to bed.” The words aren’t really for Sam. They’re not really for anybody. It’s mostly just an order for your legs to start moving.

You’ll work on this in the morning, or your phone will ring in the dead of night with an answer from Rowena. Until then, you’ll wallow. Sit in the fact that things are going to be weird now, and they’ll get better, but God, the middle part is going to suck.

It’s not like you’ve never tried to do something about your feelings. There have been points where you’d had too much to drink, or the hunt had been really good, or Dean had been touching you a lot, all day, for almost no reason. And you’d smiled at him extra, and fluttered your lashes, and looked nowhere but his grin and handsome features, but he’s never done anything. You’ve even had cases where you’ve had to pretend to be a couple, and Dean has looked at you with dark eyes and a teasing smirk, but then things would get weird, and you’d be struck with the knowledge once more that it was nothing.

The touches were nothing, and the days he’d only ever look at you were nothing, and no matter how bad you wanted it to be something, it wasn’t. 

You can’t sleep. You can’t manage to banish the image of Dean laying in his bed, with his hand stroking his cock as he shouts your name, and it’s making the sheets stick to your skin and you thighs squeeze together, but it’s just an image in your head. 

Hours pass, and the image gets sharper and you can only grind into the sheets and beg to nothing for the night to move quickly, but it doesn’t. If anything you’re more awake, and now you’ve shifted to being on the table in the war room, and instead of Dean storming out when Sam tells you that you love each other, he agrees and grabs your face between big, rough hands. Kissing you until your knees are weak and you’re clinging to his shirt, before bending you over the table and fucking you stupid.

But it’s just a fantasy. Based in nothing at all.

No matter what Sam says, it’s nothing.

Even though Sam does know Dean better than anyone. And he’s only saying what he thinks is the truth, which is—allegedly and unlikely—that Dean masturbates and shouts your name, and the magazine thing, and that you eye fuck each other, and you know you eye fuck Dean, but never once has Dean ever looked at you different from the first day he met you-

Sam cuts through your thoughts, shouting of your name from down the hall, and you bolt out of bed without thought.

“I need help- Shit-“

It’s coming from Dean’s room, and if Sam went to try and smooth things out Dean might be strangling him, and he wouldn’t actually hurt Sam but you’re still so worried the air feels wired-

You skid into Dean’s room with wide eyes, Dean jolts up from his bed—very much alone—and before either of you can speak, the door slams closed.

“Son of a-“ Dean pushes up off the mattress, his eyes narrowed at the door. “Sammy? What the hell do you think you’re doing-“

“A plan.” Sam’s voice is muffled from behind the door, and when you try to shake the handle, it doesn’t budge.

“Dean.” You mutter, look back over your shoulder. “It’s locked. Why the fuck does it lock from the outside-“

“Old Mark of Cain precaution,” he grunts, moving to your side with short steps. “Sam, open the goddamn door now.”

There’s a second of silence, then Sam’s firm. “No.”

“Sam-“

“No! I’m not doing this for another three years!” Sam’s voice is almost desperate, and you and Dean both freeze. “You know you love each other now! Work it out! And I’m sorry I spilled your secrets, that wasn’t cool, but c’mon guys, this was getting insane.”

“Sam.” You wrap your arms around your body, and he better feel the venom in your voice. “You said you needed help. This is not help. You lied, so-“

“Potion wore off. Guess I can lie again.” There’s a pause. “But I wasn’t lying when I said you guys need to get this together. Remember the vamp hunt last month?”

You frown at the door. “Yeah?”

“One of the vamps was shocked you weren’t together!” Sam groans, sounding almost pained by the memory. “You guys were out double checking the nest location after we interrogated her, and she made a joke about how my mom and dad were probably fucking in the car or something, and I told her that you guys weren’t together, and she said, and I quote, really.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice is growl. It’s not helping the situation. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Cool. Do it after you guys are done.”

“Done?” You glance over at Dean, and he’s refusing to meet your gaze. Just glowering at the door. “Sam, what do we have to be done with.”

“Working it out.”

You sigh. “That’s not-“

“Fine. Fucking. You’re not coming out until you fuck.”

Your mouth falls open, and Dean looks like—if he really tried—he could break down the door and strangle Sam with his bare hands.

“I swear to Mother Mary and Christ, Sam, you’re fuckin’ dead-“

“Sure. After you fuck.”

Dean slams a fist on the door, and it almost drowns out the sound of Sam’s footsteps.

Walking away.

Leaving you locked with Dean.

You swallow on the air, and Dean still won’t look at you. Won’t speak to you, or do anything but glare at the door as if he can free himself with his mind. You must have done something wrong to make Sam hate you, because this is torture. Dean obviously doesn’t want to be in here with you, let alone fuck you or love you. Even when you move to sit on the bed he remains tall and rigid and frozen, and you can see the muscles of his back flexing, and that’s really not important to think about right now-

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and when Dean responds, his words sound pushed through his teeth.

“No. You’re- This isn’t your problem. He’ll come back later, and we can lie to him about doing it, and then I’ll fucking kill him.”

The last words are roared for Sam to hear wherever he’s retreated off to, and you let out a long, slow sigh.

“I don’t think shouting is going to convince him to come back and free you.”

He finally looks at you. A quick glance over his shoulder with a drawn brow, still igniting a fire over your skin. Always igniting a fire over your skin. 

“I don’t give a shit if he frees me.” He grunts. “He shouldn’t be doing this to you. Doesn’t matter what he thinks he knows.”

You blink at that, and it’s like you’re missing something. Dean’s words make sense, but there’s something so slightly off about them, and you can’t place it. 

“Truth potion.” You shrug, watching Dean carefully. “Not his fault.”

Dean scoffs. “This is his fault, sweetheart. And that thing wasn’t a truth potion, it was a big-mouthed potion.”

“I think that’s just a mean way of saying truth potion.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve earned the right to be mean. My brother’s a fucking traitor-“

“Dean.”

“Yeah. I know.” 

“Right.” You mumble. “Sorry.”

He glances back to you with a firm expression that-

Softens. It softens. There’s not eye fucking, but you can see it happen. His jaw unclenches, and his nostrils flare with a long exhale, and his eyes turn gooey.

The lack of sleep might be catching up to you.

Or Sam is right.

You really hope Sam is right.

“Don’t be.” Dean mutters, crossing the room and dropping at your side. “Not your fault Sammy’s a little shit who only see what he wants.”

“What he wants?”

Dean nods, and that all you get.

You just need a little more.

“Sam told me you haven’t been sleeping with other people.” You whisper. “Was that just- Sam being a shit?”

Dean sighs, shooting you an unreadable look. “No. I haven’t been.”

You swallow. “Why?”

Dean lets out a dry chuckle, and you can taste the air. Feel the heat from his body, right next to yours, and smell him all over the room. Whiskey and gunpowder and something salty that’s just Dean.

And he chuckles—his voice impossibly low—and looks at you the same as he always has. 

And you see it again. What Sam was talking about

The hunger, in his hooded gaze, that’s lighting a fire in your gut. 

All it takes to turn it to a wildfire is his voice, deep and rough as he holds your gaze, God, you might be the one losing their mind, but if it’s for this, you’re happy to let it go.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, scanning carefully over your already open, slack features. “I’m betting Sam told you why, too.”

For a second, you’re only staring at each other as Dean’s words hang in the air.

And Sam had been telling the truth. You can see it all over Dean’s face, and you’re sure he can see it on yours—and if he can’t, he can hear it, pounding in your heartbeat—and something in you snaps.

You must be the one who moves first. Just a fraction of a second faster than Dean, because you end up straddling him as he holds you by the waist, and this is what you’ve waited for.

Years of sleepless nights and watching Dean move without grabbing him by the shirt and smashing your lips to his with a scream of I love you. So much time spent daydreaming and getting lost in your own head to thoughts of this moment, and you’re here, and there’s nothing else in the world.

It’s only Dean. His hands pulling and kneading at the skin of your hips and ass, and his mouth desperate and sloppy against yours as you both try to devour the other first. All teeth and spit and need, you need Dean and he needs you, and you can feel his need pressing right into your inner thigh, and exploding is back on the table but it might be into fireworks-

You’re separating only for breath. Just enough for Dean to pull your shirt over your head and drop his head to your neck as you unbutton his flannel—why was he sleeping in flannel, that’s so fucking weird, he’s perfect—and leaning back once more to let you drag his undershirt off and toss it to the side. There’s too much time lost to wait. You push your hand between your bodies—pressed right against each other, your hips already rolling down as your own desperation grows—and it’s only right as your fingers lands on the rim of Dean’s sweatpants that he picks up on what’s happening. 

“Wait-“ He grunts your name, pulling away as he grabs your hand, but keeping his hold on your body steady. “You don’t need to-“

“But I want to.” You whisper, giving him your best, softest doe-eyes. “Please.”

“Son of a- Sweetheart, you really don’t-“

“Please.” You grind down onto him, and he grunts in your ear. “I promise I want to Dean, I- I mean only if you want to-“

Dean’s hand wraps around the back of your hand so carefully as he slams his lips up to yours, and your words die in a long, happy moan as he ruts up into your thighs. 

“I love you,” he mutters, and you giggle against his lips.

“I love you, too. Is that a yes-“

He chuckles. “You can have a little, sweetheart.” He starts to press short kisses over your collarbone before nipping at your shoulder, his words rolling through your body until you’re squirming against him. “But then I wanna taste you, and come inside of you, alright. I-“ He pauses, glancing up with a small frown. “If you’re good with that. I know I’m clean, and if you are too, and wanna do that, I’m all in, so-“

It’s your turn to shut him up. He groans down your throat as you pull his lower lip between your teeth, squeezing right over his bulge until he’s making more of those sounds, and they might be all you need to survive for a million years.

And the hiss and moan he lets out when you lean back and pull his sweats and boxers down, taking his hard cock in your hand and giving it a long slow stroke, might send you right to heaven.

You don’t think you’ll want it. Nowhere could be better than here. Pumping Dean in your hands carefully, feeling the ache between your legs grow as you start to imagine him—thick and big and throbbing—seated between your thighs. Watching him drop his brow to your chest with a low groan, quickly making himself busy by kissing and sucking over your breasts.

“Dean.” Your hand shoots into his hair, and he moans again. Right against your nipple, as his hips jerk up into your hand, and you squeeze right at the base of his dick. “That’s- Oh, that’s good-“

He only groans, a hand gripping so hard on your waist it’s going to leave a bruise. 

You really hope it does.

“Baby,” Dean mutters, and that alone almost sends you right up to the edge. “Gotta slow down, getting- son of a bitch-“

It’s impossible not to speed it up. To not began to pick up your pace until Dean’s biting your shoulder, making more of those sounds-

“Alright. That’s enough.“ Dean pulls you off with a grunt, eyes blown out, and hair messy from your fingers, and his voice is gruff and low and you want to keep touching him-

“Dean.” Your voice is almost a whine as he fully removes his bottoms, and you crawl over to prop your chin on his shoulder. “We can have sex later-“

That gets a loud, barking laugh. “There’s no damn way we’re having sex later, sweetheart. I told you, I’m gonna taste you, then I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”

Suddenly, the plan sounds good again. You nod frantically as Dean grins at you and presses a quick, affectionate kiss to your brow, but when you start to lie back for the tasting part, Dean stops you.

“Not like that, baby girl.” He mutters, pulling you back into a longer, slower kiss, and you give him a slightly dazed blink as when he pulls away.

“But you said-“

“I know. Gimme a sec.” He crawls back on the mattress, settling his head between the pillows. “C’mere.”

You blink at him. “Dean, I don’t-“

Your words cut off with a squeak as he grabs your leg, dragging you forwards and positioning until you’re sitting right on his chest.

When all you do is stare at him, combing your fingers thoughtlessly through his hair as you wait for him to explain, Dean pauses.

“You ever done this?”

“I don’t know what this is-“

“Face-sitting.” 

Your mouth falls open, and he chuckles.

“Guess not. You’re gonna love it, baby, I promise. C’mon.” 

His hands find your ass, and your senses finally rush back into your body.

“Dean, wait-“

He stops before the word is even fully out of your mouth, a small frown on his pretty face. “What’s wrong, do you not wanna-“

“No, I do-“

“Cause if you don’t, I’ll survive sweetheart, you just gotta tell me-“

“Dean!” You squeak, grabbing his face between your hands. “I want to, I do, I promise, but I- I only just got you, I don’t want to kill you night one.”

Dean stares at you for a second, and his face breaks out in a wide, bright grin. “Night one? You already planning more nights?”

“I- yes, and I’d like you be alive for them.”

He shrugs. “Well if that’s your problem, I can promise I’ll make it. Sit on my fucking face, sweetheart. Now.”

His voice is deep and firm with the command, and it’s almost enough to make you forget about the crushing him fears. 

You only just manage to push through.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dean-“

“You won’t-“

“But-“

Dean says your name carefully, squeezing his hands on your ass. “I can tell you right now, I’m going to enjoy this. I’ve been waiting for it for years.” 

“Oh.” You whisper. “Okay.”

He nods. “I’m more than game if you are. But if you’re not-“

“I am.” 

Your answer is too quick, and Dean doesn’t miss it. “Alright then. Hold on.”

A quick wink is all your get before he’s pulling you forward, right onto his face, and-

“Fuck.”

Dean chuckles, licking another long, teasing stripe up your pussy, and your hand shoots out to grab his headboard. Any doubt from your head is gone is second, replaced only by good. This feels so good, with Dean’s hands squeezing and lightly slapping on your ass with every moan, and his grunts as you grip at his hair vibrating right into you cunt, and his mouth-

His mouth needs to come with a warning. Some kind of biohazard, because all he’d need to do now is ask you to move a mountain, and you would. 

Nobody should be this good at eating pussy. It shouldn’t be legal. But Dean does it like it’s nothing, keeping you slammed firm over his face and licking and tongue fucking you into a high, dizzy oblivion, his nose rubbing right over your clit and stubble burning your thighs, and whenever you scream his name he just goes faster, his mouth moving to your clit to suck and bite as you grind down on his chin, and you’ve never been this close this fast. Right on the edge as Dean swirling his tongue around your clit before plunging it back into your cunt, keeping you right on the edge of bliss without falling over.

“Dean-“ You gasp, your voice barely a breath. “Dean, please, wanna cum-“

He squeezes your ass again, pulling your clit between his lips and flicking his tongue in almost a frenzy, and that’s it.

You scream as your orgasm hits, your thighs clamping around Dean’s head as you struggle to stay upright, and it’s only when you’re shaking and whimpering above him that Dean slows his ministrations.

Warm hands squeeze your hips and roll you off Dean’s face, holding you carefully until you’re flat on your back, and Dean’s above you with an open, adoring face.

“Good?”

You nod weakly, spreading your legs without thought at his deep voice. 

Dean laughs. “Awesome. Wait, I gotta-“

Two broad fingers run between the lips of your pussy, and you let out a shaky moan as Dean’s words hang gathers your release on his fingers.

“You’re better than I imagined, baby girl.” He mutters. “So wet. Responsive.” Just to prove his point, Dean pinches and rolls your clit, and your back arches off the bed as you whine. “I know, sweetheart, just- here.”

You blink up at him as those two fingers move to rest right to your lips, and Dean raises his brows.

“Open for me.” He presses the fingers down on your lower lip, and a grin splits his face as you obey. “Good girl. Just want you to taste how delicious you are, sweetheart, make sure you know.”

Your tongue swirling over your fingers as you suck off your arousal, and that alone is enough to make you ready for him all over again, but the way Dean watches you drags you right up to the edge.

Like you’re holy. And perfect. And there’s really never been another place for him but right here, at your side.

Dean pulls out his fingers with a pop, his voice hoarse as he holds your gaze. “More?”

You nod without a thought. “More.”

Dean give you a small, almost nervous grin, and moves himself until he’s hovering over you, only a breath away, and his cock is sliding between your pussy lips, hitching right at your entrance.

“You-“

“Yes.” Your answer is quick and breathy, and Dean grins down at you without any form of restraint on his face.

“I love you, you know.”

“I’ve got it.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And I love you too.”

“Good. Just making sure.”

“Dean-“

He angles his lips over yours for a long, slow kiss. Deep and heavy and almost gentle, going until you’re moaning below him.

Then he slams his cock into you, and you're gone.

This is where Dean belongs. He bottoms out in one stroke, and you barely need time to adjust before you’re clawing at his back in a silent plea to fucking move, and when he does it’s perfect. He’s hitting so deep inside of you, and filling you up better than anything else ever could, and every moan and breathless plea of his name only makes Dean go faster. Harder. Until he’s properly fucking you, the bed creaking as he splits you open and mutters low filth in your ear, but you’re high to really hear it.

And everything that breaks through just manages to light you on fire more.

“Taking me so good.” He grunts in your ear, and you roll your hips up, trying to match his every thrust. “God, you feel like fuckin’ paradise, baby girl. All tight and wet, I never- Shit-“

Dean cuts himself off with a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and you start to writhe below him. 

“Dean- I’m close again-“

“I know.” He mutters, pressing a slightly softer kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Want you to come with me, sweetheart. Can you-“

You squeeze around him, and Dean groans right down your throat.

“Son of a- Alright-“ His thumb snakes between your bodies, rubbing quick, furious circles around your clit. “Let’s go, baby, c’mon-“

“Dean, please.”

He moans as you start to squirm, his movements growing desperate and uneven. “I know, I’ve got you, you’re being so good-“

You start to arch off the bed again, and Dean holds you firm against him, all as his fingers keep moving.

“Good girl, so fucking tight, just need you to come for me-“

It’s someone bigger than the last one. Longer and crashing over you in a beautiful, starlit wave that drowns out everything but the sight of Dean’s face as he cums, the sound of him groaning your name, and the feeling of him between your legs. Heavy and big, his release spilling into your pussy as he gives a few last, lazy strokes.

Dean rolls off you with a gentle kiss to your brow, and the bed is too big and cold until he returns.

A warm cloth is pressed along your inner thighs as he cleans you up, and a gentle kiss lands on your abdomen right before he leaves once more.

There’s a thud as he discards the cloth, and then he’s back. Scooting in bed beside you and pulling you right up to his chest, holding you so carefully it would be impossible to know that, only minutes ago, he’d been fucking you so hard you can still feel him.

“Sam’s never gonna let us live this down.” Dean mutters, and you let out a soft laugh.

“No. I think we deserve that, though. If we’ve been even half as bad as he said.”

Dean scoffs. “I’m a saint, sweetheart, I’ve never done anything wrong in my life-“

“Sam told me about how you have a porn magazine of women who look like me.”

“I- Yeah.” He sighs, and you smile into his chest. “But he told me that you’ve stealing all my shirts to wear them while you fuck yourself with a dildo.”

“Jesus.” You flush, but still squeeze your arms around Dean’s body a little tighter. “We really are that bad, huh.”

“Yeah, but if it helps, I think that dildo thing is hot-“

“Of course your do.”

Dean laughs, his thumb tracing circles on your arm. “How should we get him back for this?”

“I think,” You hum, propping your chin up on his chest. “That you should let this one go.”

“But-“

“Dean Winchester.” You snap, narrowing your eyes and pushing up on your palms. “Don’t lie to me and say that you were planning on doing this yourself. Sam got you laid, and a girlfriend who loves you.”

Dean raises his brows. “Girlfriend?”

You swallow, but don’t waver. You’ve come this far. “Yes.”

He grins, grabbing one of your hands to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Awesome. About Sam-“

“No.”

“I’m thinking we drink all his stupid smoothies-“

“Dean.” You lower yourself down, until your nose to nose with Dean’s pretty, stupid grin. “Go buy your brother a big salad and stupid smoothie as a thank you, then get your ass back in bed.”

Dean closes the final distance with a long, easy kiss, not bothering to pull away when he speaks.

“Yes ma’am.”

End Note: Rare day where it's beautiful to be Sam Winchester. And those two perverts are meant for each other. Good for them.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[mncxbe]

✧˚ ༘ Falling asleep next to him ft. Tsukishima Kei

⇢fluff, alcohol consumption (reader is tipsy), written this with post-timeskip Tsukki in mind, your honor they're idiots in love, they want each other bad. anyway, self indulgent short drabble

Tsukishima thinks his heart is going to explode from how close you are to him. The room is silent and you're haf-asleep in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, smelling of his shower products and he almost doesn't mind the sweet, lingering trace of alcohol on your breath.

When you invited him and Yamaguchi to a party that night to celebrate the end of exam season he initially wanted to refuse, but the thought of you going only with his friend, getting hit on by random guys at the club didn't sit right with him. So he tagged along and watched you dance and chat up whoever was willing to spare you the time of day. To say he was irritated would be an understatement but Tsukishima knew better than to comment on your behavior; he knew how easily you sulked and pouted until you got your way. And you always ended up getting your way with him– he liked you that much, though he never found the words to tell you. He had to basically drag you home that night, helping you take off your makeup while you sat on the edge of the bathtub, complaining about your headache. It was Yamaguchi's idea to let you stay the night at their flat considering the state you were in. Tsukishima wanted to point out that you weren't in fact that drunk, just tipsy, but he held his tongue. He couldn't waste an opportunity to keep you by his side just for a little longer. So after you showered and joined him in bed, he was finally faced with the reality of it all.

You're here, pressed up against him, your nose nudging against his jaw as you shift around, trying to find a more comfortable position. He feels warm, too warm, his palms sweaty as he adjusts, rolling on his side to give you more space. His hand comes up to your waist to prevent you from completely rolling over him and the little breathy hum you let out at the touch is a low blow. Tsukishima has always been analytical, trying to make sense of the world through logic and his sharp mind almost never failed him. But what can he do when his brain is basically mush, heart thumping so fast he's afraid you'll hear it if you lay your head on his chest? He tells himself to go to sleep, just close his eyes, take a deep breath and calm down but he can't— not when you're so close and fit so well against him.

And then you speak, a breathy, barely audible whisper of his name and his resolve crumbles. "Yea?" he says back, pressing his forehead against yours, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

"d'you have some water? My throat feels dry."

He nods as you cough, slipping out of bed and heading to the kitchen to bring you a glass of water. By the time he returns you're already propped on your arm and he can see you blinking slowly in the soft moonlight.

"Here you go. Drink up." he mumbles, fingers brushing against yours when you take the glass and bring it to your lips, emptying it in a few greedy gulps. "Jesus... slow down, it's all yours." You give him a glare and set the glass down as he joins you under the blanket again.

"I was thirsty ok? Plus my head hurts so bad. Can't you give me some paracetamol?"

"Not when you've still got alcohol in your system, dummy. I'll give you one in the morning." he huffs, slipping his hands into your hair to massage your scalp before you get to complain more.

Kei's thumbs rub against your temples, soothing the dull ache and you finally relax, your protests melting on your tongue as you close your eyes again. "There, better?" he whispers and you nod, cuddling up against his chest. "Yea, thanks Tsukki. You're a saviour."

"A saviour, really?" he teases and you chuckle.

"You know what I mean."

And Tsukishima knows– at least he hopes he does. Hopes that behind that little sleepy smile and content expression of yours lays a feeling akin to his. But he pushes down those thoughts, leaving them for tomorrow because he's finally starting to fall asleep and as his breath settles and his eyes flutter shut, Tsukishima promises himself that one day he'll get you to sleep by his side every night.

[luveline]

i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i’m literally frothing at the mouth 🙏

ty for ur request :D fem!reader

"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?" 

Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?" 

"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there." 

"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks." 

Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.

"That long?" you ask. 

Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them." 

"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise. 

Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.

"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases. 

Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending. 

"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?" 

You wince. "Of course not. You look… you look really nice, Spence." 

"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.

You would've died. "Before I joined?" 

"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?" 

He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "She– you know. She just– She missed breakfast!" 

Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds." 

He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves. 

"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee. 

You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks. 

"I'm okay. Headache," you lie. 

Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you." 

Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding. 

"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?" 

"Yeah?" you choke out. 

"You look really nice today, too." 

Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses. 

[yuukiiqwq]

Our Blue Spring: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Time stopped for you that day. That day where all four of you are laughing together, the sun brightly shining, the wind gently blowing, the sky a beautiful blue, where all of you believed everything was going to be alright.

Tags/Warning: Fem!reader, Teen!Gojo, Reader is a jujutsu sorcerer, Fluff, Gojo in love, Gojo in denial, One-Shot

˚✧˚. Wc: 2.5k ˚✧˚.

"Shoko! I need help!" Satoru burst through Shoko's door. "I think I'm dying!"

Shoko turned around to face Satoru. She did not want to deal with his childish antics right now. It was 8am in the morning, and she was surviving on less than 2 hours of sleep.

"Gojo Satoru. I haven't had my morning coffee yet. Do not talk to me until I have my coffee. I am not ready for whatever thing you have to say."

Satoru put his hand on his chest and whined dramatically– "You wound me Shoko! I could be dying right now, and all you care about is coffee!"

"Please do. It would save everyone from your annoyance," Shoko sighs.

"I am not annoyi–"

"Just tell me why you think your dying when you're perfectly fine."

"Well–" Satoru quickly plopped down on Shoko's chair and leaned his head back. "Lately, my heart had been beating super fast and–"

"Out of nowhere?" Shoko interrupted.

"Well, no but–"

"So around someone?"

"Technically, yes, but will you–"

"Around who?"

Satoru huffed angrily and crossed his arm. "Will you let me finish first! It's like I'm being ignored here!"

Shoko ignored his comment and continued– "Around wh–"

"Nuh, uh! Let me finish talking first!" Satoru immediately interrupted. "So, as I was saying before, I was rudely interrupted."

Shoko rolled her eyes at his comment because Satoru always rudely interrupted people when they're talking.

"Lately, my heart always beat super fast around her, and my eyes always follow her around. I always want to see her smile and see her happy. Whenever I see her sad or hurt–" Satoru grasped his shirt tightly where his heart was and looked down– "My chest hurts. It feels like someone ripped my heart out, which is impossible since I'm the strongest!"

Shoko had an expression of shock before it turned into amusement.

"And who is this girl?"

"Y/N! She must have cursed me, right? She must be envious of how strong I am despite her always denying it! Shoko! Diagnose me! I'm sure I'm dying!"

Shoko couldn't help but laugh at this predicament.

"Why are you laughing?" Satoru pouted. "I'm dying, and you're laughing at me."

Shoko eyes sparkled in amusement and mischief.

"You're diagnosed with love."

"What?"

"Suguruuuuu!"

"No, Satoru. I don't want to listen to you complain about your crush for the 50th time today."

"I don't like her! I just–you know!" Satoru whined and made some weird hand gestures.

"Satoru. I swear to God, I will summon a curse right now to eat you. Ever since that day where Shoko diagnose you with love, you only talked about her, complained about how much you like her, how she doesn't pay enough attention to you and then denies it the very next second." Suguru sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can already feel an upcoming headache from this conversation.

"I don't like her!" Satoru whines again. "I don't like her just because my eyes follow wherever she goes. I just want to be close to her at all time! It's not my fault my heart and soul desires hers. It's not like I want her to be mine or anything! I don't like her like that."

"Satoru. You're contradicting yourself in every sentence."

"Excuse me? I am not!" He crosses his arms and starts to sulk.

"Are you guys fighting again?"

They both turned around to see you and Shoko carrying drinks.

"They're probably were being the idiot they are. Always fighting about the stupidest things." Shoko sighs and puts down the drinks on the table. "And they're the ones who made us go out and buy them drinks. I should be the one beating them up."

"Satoru was complaining about his crush again. This is like the 50th time today." Suguru grabs the newly brought coffee from the table. "Even coffee won't save me from this catastrophe."

"Geez Satoru, poor Suguru having to go through all that," you laughed. "When are you going to tell us who got you all whipped up?"

All three of them stared at you. Like stared at you.

"Why are you guys staring at me? I'm sure all three of us want to know who he likes since all he talks about is her."

"It's nothing to worry your pretty head about," Satoru says as he grabs his coma-inducing drink.

"You wouldn't understand since you're so oblivious to such obvious hints," Shoko said as she sat down and grabbed her coffee. "He's absolutely smitten by her, and the girl is completely oblivious."

This immediately causes Satoru to complain – "Excuse you! I do not give out obvious hints, and I absolutely am not smitten! I do not like her like that!"

What you didn’t notice during this time was how he kept sneaking quick glances at you. It's not like he can help it! You obviously had some dust on you, and it was bothering him!

"Why is she with Nanami!? I'm so much cooler than Nanami!" Satoru glares at you who is busy talking to Nanami. "Why isn't she spending time with me!"

At this moment, all Suguru wanted to do was to dump Satoru into the trash can. Shut the lid and hope that the garbage man takes him far away. Not that it will help since Satoru could teleport.

"For the love of everything nice, Satoru just confesses that you're in love with her. Stop being in denial. I'm going to lose my mind listening to you complain every day about the same thing."

Satoru huffed– "It's not love!"

"Satoru, listen. What if someone comes up to her and takes her away from you? What are you going to do?"

"That's such an easy question!" Satoru laughed. "I can use reversal red on them, duh! Even their ashes won't remain!"

"What if she likes them too? Or what happens when we lose her all together? You know being a sorcerer is dangerous," Suguru sighed.

That immediately stopped Satoru from laughing. The smile immediately wiped away from his face, and the light in his eyes dimmed. The expression on Satoru's face was fear? Uneasiness? For once, Suguru couldn't tell what expression was on Satoru's face. He couldn't figure out what he was feeling.

"Satoru?"

No response.

"Satoru," Suguru shaked his shoulder. "Satoru."

Saroru snapped out of his daze. A smile immediately reappeared on his face, and his eyes light up once more.

"Hm? What did you say, Suguru? You bored me so much with your rambling that I dazed off~"

"Satoru–"

Before Suguru can reply– "Satoru! Suguru!"

Both of them look toward the sound of your voice. You were dragging Nanami toward them.

"Ah, finally bored of just talking to Nanami?" Satoru laughed as he walked up to meet you halfway. He then put his arms around Nanami. "Nanami is quite boring compared to me after all~"

You stared at him and then frowned. "Satoru."

"Hm?" He hummed as he tilt his head to face you.

"What's wrong? You're acting stran–"

"Nothing is wrong," he immediately interrupted you, smiling brightly. "You're imagining things. Everything is fine, right Suguru?"

Your frown deepen. Something wasn't right.

Satoru felt like using reverse red. For all he knows, all he can see is red. Today was the day of the goodwill event, and there was this guy from Kyoto Tech who's putting his hands all over you. He felt like something was clawing his chest open. Sure, there is a rule of no killing, but surely they'll understand that his hand slipped, right? He just wanted to get rid of that weird feeling in his chest.

He then felt someone's hand on his shoulder.

"Jealousy is an ugly look, Satoru. You're going to stare a hole into that guy."

"I'm not jealous, Suguru. That guy just looks so annoying! He's annoying me by existing! I just think my hand is slipping, which might cause me to accidently use reversal red."

Suguru shakes his head in amusement.

"Whatever you say, Satoru. But she doesn't need rescuing Satoru," Suguru said as he pointed toward your direction. "Look."

They watched you as you elbowed the guy in the guts. The guy crumbled onto the floor, and you leaned down and said something to him before you noticed both of them. You immediately smiled and came up to them.

Suguru laughed as he ruffled your hair– "Ouch. That looks like it hurts a lot."

"He deserved it," you huffed. "He was annoying and being a disgusting pervert."

"Surely I can reverse red him, right? I mean, it's not like anyone will notice him gone–"

"Absolutely not, Satoru!" You quickly turned to look at him. "The rule of this event is absolutely no killing even if he's a creep!"

Satoru looked you in the eyes and then whined– "Fineeeee. No killing! Maybe a few broken bones or–"

"Satoru!"

The sun was setting, and when the goodwill event ended, the guy from earlier has seen much better days. He was covered in bruises, broken bones, and a few fractures. But it's ok! He's just an NPC that no one would care about, as Satoru claimed.

"See, I didn't kill him!" Satoru exclaimed as he waited for you to compliment him.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "Good job, I guess."

"You guess?? How rude! I defended your honor!" Satoru complained.

"You saw me elbowing his gut this morning, Satoru," you replied, which led to Satoru to look away and sulk.

You laughed at his behavior before saying– "The sunset is beautiful today."

Satoru looked back up but not at the sunset. He looked at you. The way the light kissed your skin made you look beautiful. He felt his breath get taken away by your beauty. You were always beautiful to him. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.

"Yeah. Absolutely beautiful."

After the goodwill event passed, Satoru was acting weird. Yeah, he's normally weird, but this was a whole different weird. Lately, he always seems to be in a daze thinking about something.

Today, you guys decided to go to the park to hang out, but Satoru was even more unusually quiet.

"Satoru! Earth to Satoru!" You called as you wave your hand over his face.

"Huh?" Satoru snapped out of his daze. "What's happening?"

"Shoko and Suguru went to buy some popsicles. You didn't answer them, so they said they'll make sure not to get you anything," you shaked your head and sighed. "We called you multiple times, but you didn't answer. What's on your mind lately? I'm worried about you."

Satoru bit the bottom of his lips and got up from the swing. He pushed you to sit down on the swing and held the chain with his hands.

"Satoru?" You tilted your head to the side in confusion.

He took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes.

"I have something to say. I think I'm in love."

You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Satoru quickly continued.

"Don't say anything until I finish."

You closed your mouth and nodded. Satoru's cheek was dusted in a shade of light pink. You couldn't help but think about how cute he looked in this moment.

"You remember asking who I was 'whipped' up for? The one I always complain to Suguru about?"

You slowly nodded your head.

"It's you. It's always been you. My heart always beat uncontrollably fast around you. All my thoughts are consumed by you and only you. I want you to be happy. I want you to smile. I never want to see you hurt. I don't ever want to see you sad. Lately, I’ve been thinking about what life would be like without you and... it's hard to imagine. I feel like there's this hole in my chest when I imagine what life would have been like without you. Maybe I have been denying my feelings for a long time despite knowing that I was in love."

You notice how Satoru was trembling. He was scared.

"I'm scared. I'm scared of these new and weird feelings in my chest. I'm scared of love. I'm scared of the changes it will bring. I'm scared of the pain of losing you because I love you. I'm scared to lose you. I'm scared to imagine my life without you. But I want you to be mine. I love you. I love you so much that I feel like dying without you. Will you please date me? Go on a date with me? Let me court you? Be my girlfriend? Let me call you mine? Please?"

You were beyond surprised. You didn’t expect him to confess to you out of everyone. You definitely didn’t expect him to pour out all his feelings either. But it was a pleasant surprise. You couldn’t help but smile gently at Satoru.

"Satoru." You said as you cupped his face.

He looks at you, eyes gleaming with anticipation and fear.

"I'll date you."

The second you said those three words, Satoru eyes light up with happiness.

"Really?" He asked as he took your hands off his cheek and into his own.

"Really."

Satoru immediately pulled you up from the swing, lifted you up, and spinned you around. He couldn't help but feel relieved that you agreed to date him. He felt extremely happy. He felt like he had the world in his hands, and in a way, he did. Because you are his world.

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he laughed.

You couldn't help but laugh along with him. After all, he had the brightest smile on his face right now. He was radiating pure happiness. He gently put you back down onto the ground and leaned down towards you.

"I want to kiss you. May I? Or am I moving too fast?"

You smiled, leaned in, and wrapped your arms around his neck– "You may."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. When he leaned down and your lips gently connected, you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. A feeling of warmth spread across your body. It was like everything was perfect. Like it was meant to be. It felt just right.

When your lips parted, both of your cheeks were dusted with a shade of pink. You stared in each other's eyes for a moment before both of you crack a smile.

"About flipping time."

Both of you jumped and turned around to see Shoko and Suguru. Their eyes were sparkling, and they had a smirk on their face.

"You guys–" you started as you carried a massive blush on your face. "How long have you been there?"

"The whole time," Shoko laughed as she shook her head.

You looked down and then noticed that they hadn't brought any popsicles like they said they were going to.

"Man," Satoru whined and nuzzled against you. "You guys totally set this up, didn't you?"

A moment of silence passed before you let out a laugh. Your laugh caused Satoru to start laughing as well. Which ended up with all four of you standing there laughing.

In your mind right now, time stopped. All four of you together, the sun brightly shining, the wind gently blowing, the sky a beautiful blue, where all of you believed everything was going to be alright.

Author's note: I struggled a lot with deciding the ending... I wanted it to be a happy ending, but I also originally planned for a sad ending. After going back and forth for a while, I decided a happy ending with a tiny hint of angst. 🩵

[chanelsweetx]

LOSS, JUDE BELLINGHAM

today jude had a game, you had stayed home because you were feeling slightly under the weather but you had promised him that you would watch from your bed.

as you watched you saw as the other team was aggressive and talented, as jude’s team fought hard they unfortunately faced a loss. the look of defeat etched on jude’s face made your stomach sink. you knew the stadium was a couple hours away, so you had to wait but in the meantime you texted him a short message,

‘good job today baby, i’m sorry you guys lost. you played really well i love you 💕’

as you sent the message jude immediately read it but never responded. you furrowed your brows at this, jude always responded. you turned off you phone and rolled over to blow your nose with the tissues on the bedside table. you hear the door slam but no jude.

you stepped out of bed your sock-clad feet tapping softly against the hardwood floors. you see jude standing in the kitchen, zoned out, eyes watery. “hey jude,” you start, placing a soft hand on his shoulder before he cuts you off “god yn! leave me alone!” he quickly storms off to your shared bedroom. the yelling had startled you and made your oncoming headache worse. you knew something was wrong so you weren’t mad, more concerned.

you softly walked over to the bedroom and opened the door slowly, you saw jude sat on the floor near the end of the bed. his shaky hands were pulling at his curly hair, he had tears rolling down his face as he struggled to breathe. “hey hey jude,” you sit in front of him and grab his hands out of his hair, holding them. he looks into your eyes “i- i- sor- can’t- breathe” “i know baby your gonna try to follow my breathing okay?” he softly nods his head in understanding, you place his hands on your chest. you take slow breaths as he follows “what happened baby?” you ask him as his breathing had regulated but he was still sobbing. “i-i played so bad and i knew you and jobe were watching. i disappointed everyone-“ you noticed as he started panicking again “jude you played great, you didn’t disappoint anyone, if anything you inspired jobe he has an amazing brother who although he was losing he fought his hardest to win for his team, that’s what makes a good football player, and you’re an amazing one i pinky promise” a smile broke out on his face as you held out your pinky he interlocked his pinky with you “im really sorry i yelled earlier” he sayed and he stuffed his head into your chest. “it’s okay baby it just made my heard hurt a little bit” he immediately shot up “are you okay? do you need anything? i’ll go get you-“ he rambles “baby im fine” “are you sure?” he grabs your hands, “positive” you confirmed “does this mean i can’t kiss you?” he sighs “not on the lips” you inform him, he softly kisses your forehead “can we lay down? i’m really tired after that.” he asks “let’s have a shower first jude, i’ll wash your hair for you.” he smiles “i’ll wash your hair for you too” he encourages rushing over to the bathroom and getting undressed.

“are you sure you’re okay?” jude asks while scrubbing the shampoo through the roots of your hair “yes, this feels nice, i just have a headache and stuffy nose.” you inform you “okay how about you take some medicine before we go to sleep” jude says grabbing the shower head and rinsing your hair out “i love your hair,” he compliments smiling as you turn around “thank you,” you blush “i love your hair too” you say kissing his cheek.

after your shower jude walks downstairs and gets you some medicine and water “here you go darling,” he hands them to you, “thank you” you kiss his nose. you guys then lay down holding jude to your chest. “i’m really proud of you jude, i love you” you kiss the top of his head “thank you, i love you more”

[moonstruckme]

You asked for doctor remus request and here is am 😅 This is a fully self indulgent request as i’m sick rn and i’m all alone and i have to still do everything and take care of everything and i just want doctor remmy to put me on bed rest and just dote on me and make me soup and hug me when i cry like a baby because i always turn into such a mess and just want to be cared for??? Hope you have a great night/day lovely!! 💕

Hope you have a great day/night as well!

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 631 words

You’d both been sure your supply of cough drops would last you through the night, but Remus is beginning to lose faith. It breaks his heart hearing you try to quiet yourself, your back convulsing as you press your face into your pillow. You’d tried to sleep on the couch, then when that didn’t work tried to get him to sleep on the couch, but Remus won’t be separate from you. It doesn’t matter to him how late the both of you are kept awake. He’s already called in for tomorrow anyway, just like he did for today. 

“Do you want some tea?” he asks. 

“No, thanks,” you manage, coughing around every syllable. 

He hums his understanding and sets a hand on your back, moving it up and down your spine in a motion he hopes will console you. Heat radiates from your skin, still not enough to really worry him but enough that he’s sure you’re feeling muddled and exhausted. You hadn’t slept much last night either. 

At his touch you curl in on yourself as if pained, and the noise that escapes you sounds so broken Remus sits up. Though the light coming in through the window is dim, he can see the dejection etched into the lines of your expression and the shiny wetness of your eyes. 

A low sound slips from the back of his throat. Remus slides his hand up to your shoulder, drilling his thumb in small circles over your collarbone. “What is it, honey, is your head still bothering you?” 

His sympathy worsens your crying, which worsens the coughing. Remus waits for the fit to pass, thumb moving over your skin all the while. 

“Yeah,” you say once you can manage. “Everything hurts. I’m so tired of this, Rem. I want to sleep, and I just—” Furiously, you take a tissue from the nightstand, blowing your nose. “I just want my fucking ears to pop.” 

Remus could almost laugh at the way the curse hiccups out of you, if you didn’t sound so pitiful. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You turn over to face him, and he cups your face in the basin of his palm. When you close your eyes, he strokes the skin beneath with his thumb. His poor girl, so desperate for comfort. He wishes terribly this was one of the ailments he could just banish in a day. “You should start to feel better soon.” 

Remus realized your cold had turned into a sinus infection after it suddenly got worse when it was supposed to be getting better. He got you on antibiotics that same day, but unfortunately they don’t work quickly enough to save you the misery of the early stages. You’ve been plagued with the cough, a blocked up nose, and a relentless headache since yesterday morning. 

The good news is, sinus infections aren’t contagious. 

Remus gives you a kiss. Your lips are warm and slightly chapped, and you taste like the soup he’d made you for dinner. He knows he can’t convey all his love and caring through the press of his mouth, but he tries anyway. 

“Do you want me to warm up the flannel for your sinuses again?” he asks.

You sniffle, looking guilty. “I don’t want you to have to get up.” 

“I’m up,” Remus says, kissing a salty tear off your cheek before sitting upright. “Sure you don’t want some tea, dove? I’ll be in the kitchen anyways, and it can cool while you lay with the flannel.” 

“Yes, please,” you murmur. You reach up a hand out of the covers, and he takes it as he rounds the bed, squeezing obligingly. “Thank you, Rem.” 

“Don’t mention it,” he tells you. 

In the end, you’re not awake long enough to drink your tea. 

[cowgurrrl]

Roll The Bones

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Author’s note: I wrote this in the midst of a flare up so please enjoy and be gentle with your disabled friends <3

Summary: A bad pain day with Joel [1.5k]

Warnings: descriptions of injuries and subsequent chronic pain, medical settings and discussion, I think that’s it??

When Joel finds you, you're in a pitiful state. Your arm is folded over your face, covering your eyes even though the blinds are closed and the room is dark. Your right leg is peeking out from under the bundle of blankets and quilt, elevated with a lukewarm towel surrounding the swelling kneecap. The room smells like the salve someone in the town makes that's supposed to alleviate your pain. So far, it's just given you a headache. Your entire body throbs with pain and frustration. It shouldn't be like this, you think ruefully. I shouldn't feel like this. 

Joel lightly pads over to your bedside— his footsteps quiet now that he's discarded his boots by the front door— and perches next to you. His hand finds a home on your afflicted knee and carefully maneuvers his thumb over the tendons to help with the pain. You shift the arm covering your face to reach for him, and he smiles. 

"There she is," he murmurs as you take him in. His hair is long and a little unruly in the back, but you think it makes him look soft and domestic. He's shed his work jacket and heavier clothes downstairs and is clad in his soft, well-worn-in flannel. He smells like pine and leather. You want to wrap yourself in his warmth but settle for having him nearby. "Ellie told me you were havin' a rough day." He says. It doesn't surprise you that she did, even though you promised her you were fine and didn't need him. It's become rare that she doesn't update him daily on your health.

About a year ago, you were on patrol with Tommy when a Runner came out of nowhere and charged at your horse. She startled and bucked you off before you could regain control of the reins. The Runner was dead before you could hit the ground, and your horse would be recovered within the day, but the damage was done. You broke your leg in two places and dislocated your knee, in addition to a low-level concussion and cuts on your face and arms. When you came back into Jackson on Tommy's horse, half-conscious, bloody, and delirious with pain, Joel was horrified, Ellie even more so.

You were in the hospital for a month as they used what they could to put you in something akin to a cast and reset the bones. Joel and Ellie took turns being guards at your bed, monitoring what they gave you, when, and how much, and how your healing process was going. They were there with you every day, learning the tips and tricks to support you and keeping you sane as you stared at the white walls. 

Six months, the doctor said. Six months is all it would take to be back to normal as long as you did everything you were supposed to. Things have gotten better slower than you would like, but they have gotten better. You have really good days where you don't feel anything other than slight twinges when you move your leg in a weird way. Those days, it's hard to remember that you broke it in the first place. But other days, like today, you can feel every muscle in your leg tightening as stiff pain rockets up and down your body. You thought you could persevere enough to go to the store with Ellie, but your body obviously had other plans.

"My leg gave out on me when I was coming down the stairs. Pretty sure I made the whole house shake when I fell." You explain, and his eyebrows knit together in phantom pain as his thumb works your muscle. 

"You hurt anythin'?" He asks. "Other than your pride?" You blow air out of your nose in a half-laugh and shake your head. 

"Just some bruises," you say. He finds a tender spot in your knee that makes you hiss and ball up your fists, but he doesn't let up until the muscle releases. It's what he's supposed to do: break up the scar tissue, relax the muscles, and hope for the best. It still hurts like a bitch, and it'll hurt more in the morning. He mumbles apologies under his breath and kisses you to try and distract you, but your brain's been running wild for hours. "I went so long without any pain." You finally say, breaking the reverie and collapsing the unwanted space your pain often creates. 

"You've been takin' on a lot these past few weeks. It doesn't surprise me somethin' would flare up." It's an honest assessment. He warned you this would happen, but you ignored him. You thought you knew your body better. You wanted to know your body better. The returning thought and the gentle hand on your knee turn your tongue into sandpaper, and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. Despite the low light in the room, Joel catches it and makes a sympathetic noise. 

"Hey, talk to me." He says softly, shifting his hand from your knee to your face to catch a few stray tears. You shake your head and try and fail to form the words. Joel is patient. He always is, but he shouldn't have to be. 

"I'm so tired of being like this." You whisper, hating the feel of the words on your tongue and hating the sound of them even more. Joel gives you a confused look and pushes your hair out of your face. 

"Bein' like what?"

"Sick," you choke out. Now that the dam is broken, there's no stopping the bitter rush of words from leaving you. "We took her across the country and got rid of anyone who even looked at her wrong. Now, I can't even get on a horse without hurting. And I do all the stupid fucking things the doctor tells me to do. I do the exercises and take the medicine and everything, and nothing is making it better, and I'm so tired." 

"Why didn't you tell me that?" 

"Because I didn't want you to think I'm broken." It's a thought you've harbored since you were laid up in the hospital, unable to even walk to the bathroom without help, but this is the first time you've expressed it. You secretly hoped if you just didn't say anything about it, maybe Joel wouldn't notice. It's a stupid idea, given that your entire lives have changed since the accident. You just didn't want to get thrown away like all the other broken things in this world. Joel takes a deep breath and gazes at you. 

"Honey, you aren't broken. Not even close to it," he says. You want to counter him, but the weight of your emotion is too heavy on your chest. "I wanna know if somethin' is hurtin' you cause when you hurt, I hurt, okay? You're not a burden or somethin' to fix. You just… need a little extra care right now, and that's okay. I wanna take care of you."

"What if it's like this forever?" You ask, and he shakes his head. 

"It won't be."

"But, what if it is?" More tears fill your eyes as you await his answer. He didn't fall in love with this version of you. You don't know if you could blame him if he never does. But with enough ease and love to take your breath away, Joel kisses your forehead, right where your temple smacked against the cold ground. He kisses your forehead and the white scars littering your cheeks before finally shifting to kiss the knee propped up on pillows and hope. He doesn't flinch at the swelling or the angry spasms. He treats them with care and attention. He treats them as another part of you. 

"Takin' care of you has never and will never be on the list of worst things imaginable. Your health is not a sacrifice or a burden on me. If it's like this forever, we'll adapt, but I know you. I know how hard you're workin' to get better. I know we'll find a way to live with this," he says. "But I need you to talk to me when things aren't workin'. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's helpin' and what's not, okay?" You swallow around the lump in your throat and nod. 

"Okay." 

"Okay," he echoes. "I'm gonna get you an appointment with Dr. Lutton and see if we can't get you on a new treatment plan first thing tomorrow mornin'. Is there anythin' I can do for you until then?" He asks, fully prepared to go to the edge of the earth if you asked him to. 

"Can you lay with me?" You ask, and he smiles. 

"Of course, baby." He mumbles. He kisses your knee one more time before shuffling to wrap you in his arms. The warmth from his body helps relieve some of your tension and pain, and he kneads calming circles over your shoulders and back. Your focus shifts from the pain in your leg to the song he's humming, the vibrations in his chest a welcome distraction. The pain doesn't go away entirely— you doubt it ever will— but you rest your weary body against his and sleep, finding wholeness in his acceptance of your loss. 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01 @acupofhollie

[luiluvr]

college! luigi struck down by a cold during finals week and still trying to keep up with school, ta stuff, frat stuff etc and reader urging him to rest and take care of himself and practically forcing him onto the couch with tea <333

I LOVE THIS 😓😓❤️

WARNINGS: none! just affection and luigi being sick, mentions of Y/N

Luigi was always persistent in his work, he was incredibly dedicated and prompt with deadlines; especially in college. Only problem: he’s too dedicated. He would make sure his work is accomplished even if the world was ending.

So when a casual cold that everyone was inevitably getting during the winter semester, you found yourself trying to encourage him to take a break. The first day he had symptoms and felt under the weather: “I’m fine, it’s just a headache and runny nose. I’ll take something before bed and I’ll wake up feeling better.”

His words against yours you suppose.

Your classes were a lot earlier than his, so naturally you woke up way before him. You made yourself a to-go cup of coffee, gathered your bag and headed out. The two of you lived in different dorms; but they were across the hall from one another, which meant you saw each other all the time.

The day was normal, nothing of interest, you got through your morning class and a lengthy final, you were grateful to get it out of the way. You were on your way to a meeting with some other students about one of the support groups, there were usually two held during the day, you preferred attending the early one since there’s no classes during. On your way, you decided to drop in on Luigi, he was just barely waking up and getting around. Sluggishly. Very slowly.

You loved him but he looked like death. He stood at the small kitchen counter, a very.. yucky cough escapes his mouth. “You sound lovely.” You say as you set your bag down on a chair and watch him, he groans and mutters something inaudible. “I feel fantastic too.” He says back.

“So much for feeling better, hm?” You state a little cockily, he just glares at you. It’s funny but you also feel bad about it, his dark brown eyes are glossed over, his beard stubble was growing back on his jawline and chin; which he always hated and tried to maintain. His nose was getting red around the nostril where he would wipe and blow. Somehow, even in sickness the asshole managed to look cute. He just seemed laggy, not all there but also, too present. His ears hurt, they popped every time he drank from his water bottle. “Shut up.” He murmurs.

“You should stay here, get rest.” You say, tiptoeing to reach into a cupboard and get the box of elderberry tea out. It was nasty but it always helped when you were sick, so you bought some for Luigi. “Are you crazy? I can’t do that! I have finals all this week, plus a frat meeting Wednesday, which is really important, Y/N!” He was trying to be stern and get his words out quick, but he ended up just coughing excessively, rubbing his temple. Annoyed — almost.

“Jeez, Lu, I know this week is the worst to get sick during but you gotta focus on your health too, ya’know.” You say.

“I do know, but I already checked… I’m not running a fever so I’ll take a Tylenol later for my headache and some cough syrup before I leave. I have a two different exams today in calculus and algorithms, on top of that I’m the one planning the frat meeting, and quite frankly I haven’t really done much for it. I have no idea where it’s even going to be held this week.” He sighs and plops down on a chair.

“You’re overworking yourself, Lu. It’s catching up to you and now you’re sick.”

“It has nothing to do with it, sweetheart.” He says in that tone — you sigh, “I’m not gonna force you, but you need to rest. I’m fine with helping you plan whatever it is you need help with. However, I’m sure the other fraternity members would understand you needing to cancel and reschedule. It’s going all around, even a few of my professors had to cancel classes for the week.” Of course, he was stubborn and did it his way. Men never listen.

You went on to attend your last couple of classes and take the finals, Luigi forced himself to go Monday and Tuesday. Some of his friends came up and told you about his stubbornness in classes when the professor confronted him about not feeling well. As a teacher’s assistant, he resisted and insisted he was fine. Obviously everyone else didn’t think so because he had to sit away from other students as to not spread the bug.

As the week progressed he became more loopy, while you checked in on him daily, you finally decided to put your foot down. “Luigi Nicholas Mangione, you are staying in this dorm and you are resting. I don’t care if I have to strap you to that bed, I already canceled the fraternity meeting, a few of the members are sick as well and your professors are willing to reschedule a day for you to take the finals.”

He sat there, listening to you, his legs hung over the edge of his bed, looking more pale, his red nose had worsened and he trembled from being cold yet simultaneously overheated. His room was unusually messy, his clothes he’d worn the past few days was tossed around, he slept shirtless and there was an attempt to get tissue in the trashcan, but he wasn’t a basketball player. They were scattered lazily.

“But it’s only two finals, I don’t have any tomorrow or Friday,” He starts but you cut him off. “No, Luigi. I’m serious-” He pushes by you. “I’m fine, I just need to take my medicine for the morning.” You roll your eyes, following him into the other part of the dorm.

“Sit down.” You say firmly, you never use a really stern or somewhat harsh tone with him. You don’t like it. He glances at you as he stands awkwardly, shifting his tall figure. “But…”

“No, you heard me. Sit on the couch.”

He grumbles and finally sits on the small gray-colored couch, folding his arms like a toddler. You heat up water in a coffee maker and get the elderberry baggies for the tea he clearly hasn’t been drinking.

He’s been achy from doing so much, his body was tired. His back had been sore for a couple of weeks now and this cold didn’t help. You give him a blanket and bring him his laptop to watch TV on, then you set the mug on a coaster atop an inn table beside him. He feels a little defeated but he can’t deny he likes being tended to. Especially by you.

“There. Not so bad is it?” You question and he looks up at you innocently. What a stupid pretty boy. “Well, I’m not entirely against you taking care of me.” He flutters his long lashes. You chuckle and gently sit across from him. At this point in the relationship, you two never cared if the other was sick, he would lay with you, kiss you and care for you every time you were sick; even if it wasn’t solely an immune system sickness.

You pull him over into your embrace, he lays his head on your chest. His muscular arm tucks around you, making sure to pull up and share the throw blanket. He smiles and gazes up to you.

It’s cute seeing him with his beard growing out and rosy cheeks. Although you could do without the snotty and congested part; his feverish body kept you warm. You return with a cheeky grin and gently place a little kiss on his chapped lips. “You need some chapstick, Lu.” You murmured against them.

“I know. I lost the one I had.”

“How? You just bought it a couple weeks ago.”

“I don’t keep track of everything.”

You shake your head, tracing little patterns across his back with your fingertip. He leans over for a minute, sort of sitting up and lifts the mug with tea to take a big sip. His face contorts, you knew how funny elderberry tasted. It wasn’t the best. You laugh at his reaction, “That’s…disgusting.” He says quietly, “Yeah, but it helps.” He nodded, “Thanks for.. Helping me.” He lays his head down, burying his face in your chest once more.

“That’s what I’m here for. Next time you should really listen and rest.” He tilts his head back and itches his neck, “Yeah, yeah… You’re right. As always.”

“Don’t say it like that!” You say, eliciting laughter out of you both, before you let out a hefty sneeze. “Bless you.” Luigi says, reaching up to brush hair from your head. His thumb traces down your cheek; you sneezed again, this time it inflicted an immediate headache. Great.

He knew the inevitable had caught you too. You give him an unamused look, Luigi grins and stares back up at you.

“Welcome to the club, sweetheart.”

[k0nanharv3y]

I'll follow you around. Part 2

Part 1

Okay, look, was this her best idea? Never. Will she regret this in the future? Probably. Will she let this kid continue running around Gotham unprepared? No. Leslie couldn't afford that. So, after threatening to call his parents, CPS, the police, and Batman himself, the boy stayed. Like a tick, the boy kept coming back with hurt people, he kept looking over Leslie's shoulder as she set shoulders and stitched wounds, and he kept disappearing into thin air every time the doctor asked his name.

So... She stopped doing it

Leslie started calling him "Nurse" every time he appeared, she started making a space for the boy to look at and waited with the door open for the next patient who would appear holding the boy's hand.

As for Tim? Tim was having a blast. He never thought he'd be so useful in his life. (Sure, he hoped to run his parents' business in the future, but that was his parents' business, this? This was purely Tim.) He never thought he would help so many people, and of course he wasn't like Batman and Robin, but he was saving people, saving lives.

And the adrenaline rush of running from one alley to another every time he heard a scream was much greater than the one he felt when he ran across the rooftops following Batman. Because this was a race against time, because Tim could help them and save them and... And his heart beat so hard when he received a satisfied smile from Doctor Leslie.

And... and then the clock ran out before Tim arrived.

He had been busy treating a cat's paw, removing the small splinter that was making it limp on the back, the night had been peaceful and the worst thing today was a woman vomiting her dinner after drinking too much. (Tim gave her an aspirin for tomorrow's headache and accompanied her to her apartment, between Crime Alley and Old Gotham, which were both close to Leslie's clinic). Tim had relaxed... Maybe that's why it took him longer to react when he heard the scream.

With what could be defined as muscle memory, he packed everything in his backpack and started running as fast as his (small) legs could carry him. Tim almost tripped once or twice before reaching the scene

A boy. A few years older than him, perhaps, sobbing as he clutched a woman's hand on the ground, her eyes rolled back and blood running from her nose.

From a distance, Tim could see an overdose in progress. He quickened his pace and knelt down hastily, scraping his own knees.

"Stay away from us!" The boy had exclaimed to him

"It's okay! I can help!" Tim had promised him, taking things out of his backpack, frantically searching for the naloxone that Leslie had forced him to carry with him, he took it out, along with a sterile syringe "This is naloxone, it will reverse the effects of the overdose, I promise, let me help her" He clumsily showed him the little bottle, and without waiting for an answer, he began to prepare it.

His heart was beating wildly, he felt the clock in his head ticking faster and... And Tim didn't have time for this

Almost gracefully, he injected the substance into the woman's arm and waited a second.

Two seconds

The woman's chest did not rise

"What have you done...?" He heard from the other side

Tim's eyes widened, feeling nausea rise in his throat. He placed both hands on the woman's chest, hoping to feel a heartbeat, a buzzing, something.

And then he started to push

(If it hadn't been so traumatic, Tim would have admitted that "Stayin' Alive" was playing in his head and he never heard the song the same way again)

One... Two... Three... Blow... One... Two... Three... Blow

"What have you done to my mom!?" The boy pushed him away from the slowly cooling body, beginning to do something similar to what Tim was doing, more clumsy, frantic almost

"I- I-!" Stuttering, shaking, Tim got up from the ground, grabbing his backpack, taking out the phone and dialing his emergency number

"Kid-"

"Help! I- She's not breathing!" Tim interrupted Leslie, in total panic

"What? Kid? Where are you?!" Movement on the other end of the call told him that Leslie was leaving the clinic

"Bet- Between Crime Alley and Old Gotham on the 54th and the 35th" Tim looked up and down the alley for the street number. The graffiti of Martha Wayne and Thomas Wayne stared back at him.

"Don't move, I'm coming" Tim could tell the woman was running from the sound of her. "Describe her symptoms," he ordered breathlessly.

"Overdose, I- I think- W-what do I do?" Hot tears now ran down his cheeks, unable to tear his gaze away from the sobbing child, exclaiming 'Mom!'

There was no answer, for at the foot of the alley, Leslie slipped, disheveled, panting, without her robe, but with the white briefcase in her hand.

She ran a little further to reach the woman, carefully pushing the boy aside. He moved away without much effort, looking at the doctor as if he knew her.

"How long it's been?" She resumed compressions. Not clumsily, not lightly, but professionally

Tim stuttered, flustered, frozen in place.

"Nurse! How long it's been?!" She demanded, now, with a firm tone and... And similar to Janeth's

That brought Tim back

"3 minutes, naloxone has been administered, but I cannot say if cardiac arrest has just begun or was already present before the administration"

"Jason?" Leslie turned to the boy, who was still in shock

He reacted to his name and stuttered a "already..."

Leslie pulled away abruptly and frowned, annoyed with herself. She closed her eyes and seemed to swallow all her despair. She inhaled and looked back at the woman.

She extended a hand

And she closed her eyes

And if Jason wasn't crying then, now he started tearing his throat out from the inside.

And Tim...?

"Nurse-" Leslie turned to look at the boy

He had gone

...

Read the tags :)

I'll follow you around

Part 3

[zayne-s]

hold you gently

ftm steve, established steddie. contains detailed descriptions of periods. (ao3)

Steve spends the first day of his period absolutely miserable. His emotions are all over the place. One minute he's this close to lashing out at the first minor inconvenience and the next he's ready to bawl his eyes out.

He knows Robin can tell that something's up. She keeps asking if he's alright and Steve tries to brush it off, tell her he's fine, it's just a little headache, he couldn't sleep last night. But then that sends her into another spiral that makes Steve want to scream and throw something just to get her to be quiet.

Those are mean thoughts, Steve knows, but his body's all out of whack, and his knees and lower back are killing him and he swears he can feel his fucking hips shifting. Add in the cramps that are steadily rolling through his uterus and he's so fucking close to committing homicide.

He's in the stacks, dead-eyed as he stocks the new animated releases, and shifting from foot to foot because now those also hurt and he can feel the beginnings of a migraine that'll have him calling off the next day, and he just wants to go home and lay on the couch with his heating pad and his boyfriend while some shitty TV show plays in the background.

"Steve?" Speak of the devil.

Steve makes a noise of acknowledgement and continues to shelve the tapes. He ignores the pang in his chest that makes him want to reach out and pull Eddie closer and burrow into him.

As if he can read his mind (or tell by the look on his face), Eddie steps closer. "You got Robbie real worried, sweetheart," he says gently, hands in his pockets. Steve can tell he wants to reach out for him the same way he does.

"I'm fine, Eds," Steve says. More like he tries not to snap at the only person who knows about his "condition." He can feel his agitation rising, though, with another wave of cramps that are accompanied by nausea and a sick feeling of something gushing from down there.

"Is that why you look like you wanna blow chunks all over the place right now?"

Steve maybe puts a tape on the shelf a little too hard. "It's been a shit day, Eddie, I really don't need sarcasm right now."

Eddie puts his hands up. "Sorry, sorry." He comes a little closer and lowers his voice. "Talk to me, baby. What's the matter?"

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's the first day," he mutters behind his hand.

"Hm? I couldn't hear you, Stevie."

"I said–" Steve sighs again, harsher this time, and his hand falls to his side, his gaze firmly locked on the tapes in front of him. "It's the first day, and the first day is always shit. It feels like a rock's sitting in my stomach or something and I can't take more than two steps without feeling like I'm gonna puke."

He doesn't mean to unload it all onto his boyfriend, but he asked for it. His perfect, wonderful boyfriend who takes it all in stride without a single hint of judgement or disgust.

"I'm hormonal as fuck, man, and it’s like customers chose today specifically to be even more annoying than they usually are, like they made it their personal mission or some shit."

Steve looks to the front of the store where Robin is still at the counter and then back at Eddie. "Robin keeps asking me if I'm alright, and I love her, Eds, I really do, but if she keeps it up, I'm gonna end up snapping at her and then she'll cry and that'll make me feel even worse."

Steve takes a deep breath, holds in it for ten seconds, and exhales. "I just need a break," he says, sounding defeated, and so so tired. "I just need to be alone for five minutes, and–"

Eddie, who has been quiet this whole time, like a saint, letting Steve rant until he runs out of steam, tilts his head and looks at him with those big Bambi eyes Steve loves so much.

"And what, Stevie?" he asks gently.

Something in Steve's chest snaps and his bottom lip wobbles before he can stop it. The back of his throat burns like it always does when he's about to cry, and– yep, here come the tears.

He takes a shaky breath and his voice breaks when he says, "I need you."

Eddie's expression falls into something Steve absolutely hates. "Baby–"

Steve clears his throat and the tears are gone as quick as they came, though his eyes are a little red rimmed and shiny.

He shakes his head and waves Eddie off, putting more tapes on the shelves like he didn't just have a mini breakdown in the middle of his shift. "It's fine, Eddie, really. I'll just, I don't know, take a painkiller and tough the next couple hours out."

The tape he's holding is gently taken from him and set on the shelf for him. Eddie levels him with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that really what you want to do?"

Steve bites his lip. He doesn't. Work is the last place he wants to be at today, or this whole week for that matter.

He shakes his head with a soft, "No."

"Okay, then."

Eddie tells him to go grab his things from the break room. Steve is too exhausted to argue. He comes back to the front counter but before Robin can launch into a lengthy apology, Eddie interrupts her with a minute shake of his head.

Steve holds his arms out and pulls her in for a hug anyway.

"I'm sorry for being an ass all day," he says and plants a kiss on the top of her head. He feels awful about keeping this huge of a secret from her, but coming out as bi is one thing. Coming out as trans is a whole different ballgame he isn't willing to play just yet.

Robin hugs him back and kisses his cheek. "I'm sorry for being pushy." She pulls back and takes Steve's hands in hers, lacing their fingers together. "Hope you feel better soon, dingus."

Steve can't leave his car at work overnight so he follows Eddie's van to the trailer. He grabs one of Eddie's pullover hoodies out of his closet once they're inside and a pair of baggy sweatpants before making a beeline for the bathroom to pee and change his pad.

Soon enough, Steve comfortable and cozy on the couch, covered with at least two blankets and even more pillows, his hood pulled over his head and mussing his hair up even more. Eddie's got My Best Friend Is a Vampire playing on the TV, but Steve's saving grace is the heating pad that's covering his waist under the blankets.

Steve groans softly as he's hit with more cramps and shifts his hips against them.

"Here, sweetheart." Eddie comes back from the kitchen and hands him a cup of hot chocolate. He reclaims his spot next to Steve, boxing him between his body and the back of the couch. "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," Steve grumps, taking a sip and reaching back to set the mug on the side table. "I'd rather take being gnawed on by demobats than have to deal with these cramps. At least I can see the bats and try to stop them." He winds his arms around Eddie's waist and rests his head on his shoulder.

Eddie crinkles his nose in distaste. "Frankly, babe, I'd rather you not go through either." He rubs his thumb over the skin of Steve's hip. "What's stopping you from using all that government money to pay for your surgery?"

Steve hums and turns his nose into Eddie's neck, smiling against the skin. "I wanna get at least one kid out of you before I do that."

They've talked about this. In length. Eddie was there for the Winnebago conversation. Steve wasn't lying back then, but he's since realized he was wanting all those things with the wrong person.

"Yeah?" Eddie's voice is amused. "You want a couple Harrington spawn running around the trailer park?"

"Nah, was thinking more along the lines of a Munson brat."

Eddie stills against him.

Steve comes out from his hiding spot and grins at the look on his boyfriend's face. He leans up and kisses his cheek. "Did I break your brain on that one, honey?"

Eddie shakes himself out of his stupor and cups Steve's face, pressing him into the couch so he can kiss him silly.

"I'm gonna give you so many Munson brats, baby," he promises between leaving kisses all over Steve's face and Steve's giggles. "You won't even know what hit ya by the time I'm through with you."

Steve guffaws and lets Eddie cover him with kisses and love.

"I'll hold you to that, baby, don't worry."

buy me a ☕?

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Reunion / Post-TRF Pt. 4

meetinginsamarra said: I'm very curious about "Reunion Part 4" 🙂

As I mentioned on this post, I needed a list for this weekend, and this was the only response I got, so I hope you guys enjoy this list! <3 As usual, if you have a fic to add, please do!!

=====

Tea by Art and Soul (K, 693 w., 1 Ch. || Angst & Friendship, Reunion) – John’s habit of making tea for two has little use, considering his flat-mate has been dead for three years. But he keeps on making that second cup, hoping he’d wake up and it’d be gone. But it never was… (FFNet)

Black Cars by johnsarmylady (T, 1,186 w., 5 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF) – John is getting on with his life...if only he didn't see black cars everywhere! A short Post Reichenbach tale in 221B style in 5 parts. (FFNet)

Hallucinations can't open doors by Bespectacled dreamer (K+, 1,330 w., 1 Ch. || Reunion, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Hallucinations, John’s Wedding, Light Humour) – In which John gets married and Sherlock gets a broken nose. (FFNet)

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine. (FFNet)

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

This Year by DiscordantWords (T, 6,283 w., 2 Ch. || TEH Divergence / No Mary, New Year’s Eve, John’s A Mess, Jealous John, Awkward Conversations, Trapped in a Closet, Estranged After Return, John POV, Semi-Reunion, Angry John, First Kiss, Reconciliation, Clueless Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Last year, Sherlock Holmes showed up at the Landmark with a fake moustache and a bad French accent and threw John's entire life into disarray with two words: "Not dead." This year, there are more surprises in store.

The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo (E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Sunday Evening 6 p.m. by Silvergirl (E, 30,712 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF / TEH Divergence, Grief / Mourning / Stages of Grief, Mutual Pining, Dreams, Reunion, Love Confessions, First Kiss / Time, Alternating First Person POV, Smart John, BAMF Boys, Emotional Love Making, Song Fic, Referenced Suicide, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Sleepy Sherlock, Blow Job, Villain Mary) – Six months after Sherlock jumped, he learns that John is dedicating songs to him on a requests-only radio programme. Is John just working through grief? Or is he—communicating? Fixes the hell out of S3 by pre-empting it altogether. Remember, as TAB told us, John is Pretty Damn Smart.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns. 

MARKED FOR LATER

Out of the Shadow of Missed Chances by MargueriteSomebodyoranother (T, 1,132 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post TRF, Reunion, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining) – He’d had eighteen months - it seemed like a goddamned eternity at the time - and he never uttered a word.

Sound of Silence by SailorChibi (G, 1,554 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Emotional Trauma, Implied Past Torture, Mutism, Reunion, Protective John, BAMF John) – Sherlock returns from the dead but nothing is like it was. He doesn't speak and John doesn't understand, not until an encounter with the Yard explains the depths of Sherlock's trauma. 

English as a Foreign Language by standbygo (G, 1,739 w., 2 Ch. || Post-TRF, PTSD Sherlock, Reunion) – Sherlock is not quite right after Mycroft pulls him out of Serbia.

Dear Sherlock by by Tara Laurel (T, 7,729 w., 3 Ch. || Post-TRF, Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Christmas) – "John was happy. Too happy. Of course Sherlock preferred to see his friend in good spirits, especially after the cloud of depression that had hung over him the past weeks, but this was simply maddening." John's got a serious case of Christmas spirit, but is there something serious hidden behind it - something that surprises & saddens a self-proclaimed sociopath? (FFNet)

Nothing to Celebrate by DiscordantWords (M, 30,066 w., 23 Ch. || Post TRF / S3 Rewrite, Not Nice Mary, Secrets, Lies, Pining, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is back from the dead. Things only get worse from there.

Ride On by Silvergirl (M, 34,342 w., 9 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || TEH Divergence, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Mutual Pining, Alternating POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Music, Original Characters, Happy Ending) – After the disastrous reveal at the Landmark, John tells Sherlock there can be no excuse for what he’s done, and no forgiveness. Sherlock leaves London and starts a new life, and not even the British Government knows where. It’s up to John to track him down and make things right, with a trip around the world and a clue only John would recognize.

Full Mount by ArwaMachine (E, 54,887 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, Fighting, John Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Mixed Martial Arts, Angry John, Sherlock and No Boundaries, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fighting, Toplock, Reunion) – After Sherlock unceremoniously returns from the dead, John finds himself inexplicably angry all the time. So he does what any emotionally-constipated British man does: he joins a Mixed Martial Arts gym. As John throws himself into the sport and joins in on underground no-holds-barred brawls, situations arise that just might force John to face what is really going on underneath all the rage.

Over/Under Series by khorazir (M, 319,561 w. across 5 works || Cabin Pressure Crossover || Post-S2 / Reichenbach, ReunionFriendship, Angst, Humour, Pining, Cycling, Mountains, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dev. Rel., Case Fic, First Kiss, Pining, Family Issues, Inexperienced Sherlock) – After his Fall, Sherlock travels the world to destroy what remains of James Moriarty's criminal empire. When things don't go according to plan and he finds himself in desperate need of a discreet means of travel, cue MJN Air ...

[hwaflms]

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚! ⭒ bf!yuta x reader 𖦹  𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘! ⭒ fluff 𖦹  𝗪𝗖! ⭒ 0.861k 𖦹 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦! ⭒ none! 𖦹  𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦! ⭒ just a short drabble bc i rly enjoy writing these days <3

[ ☆ 4:37 p.m ] sunlight bleeds through the half-drawn curtains of yours and bf!yuta's shared apartment. the sky is clear, birds are singing and yuta even hums along to some tune playing in his head. you can hear the kids from the apartment below splashing away in the pool, squeals and giggles echoing against the walls. all of these features point to the perfect day to spend outdoors.

which is exactly what you wanted to be doing. deciding earlier in the day that you would go for a walk at around 4:30 p.m, when the time came around, yuta had already put his outside shoes on, water bottle in hand. you would have joined him had it not been for this terrible headache of yours.

you had spent the last half an hour on the couch trying to fight your headache while yuta napped in your bedroom. you had turned over in every position, flipped your cushion over a number of times, even tried blocking out all the sounds from outside with your eyes closed, but to no avail. you had taken a pill for it earlier, but this one was persistent, the dull thud throbbing away inside your head while you lay there trying to numb the pain.

"aww", yuta cooes, finally noticing that you hadn't moved from the couch. "what happened, angel?"

sensing your discomfort, he plops down on the couch in the space between the arm rest and your feet, placing a hand on your calf. "head hurts...", you mumble into the material of the couch, bring a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. yuta makes another sympathetic sound and begins asking you a couple standard questions, such as ‘did you take something for it?’ and ‘have you drank enough water today?’, replying ‘yes’ to all of them.

if this was a regular headache, the pill you took should’ve kicked in by now, but still you lay on the couch, feeling lethargic as ever. looking at the leaves blowing outside with the faint breeze through the window, you try to sit up out of slight guilt but end up feeling groggy and soon, yuta’s gentle but firm arms are helping you lie back down.

“i don’t think i have the energy to go for a walk, babe”, you mumble into the pillow, feeling flushed and sticky all of a sudden. he brings his hand up to your forehead to try and check your temperature, biting his lip in concentration. “i can’t tell if you’re burning up or if my hand is just warm…”, he mutters more to himself than you, but he soon starts talking his shoes off, so it’s pretty much decided that neither of you are leaving the house today. “i may be getting a cold.”

yuta excuses himself to the bedroom for a couple minutes and returns with a damp hand towel and a blanket, lifting your head up ever so gently to seat himself, like you’re made of porcelain. the action makes you giggle weakly but you push yourself up anyway, making space for your boyfriend who softly coaxes your head on to his lap.

his hand immediately finds itself smoothing out your hair, fingers carding through it while you hum appreciatively. this new position is ten times more comfortable than your previous one, head resting easy on yuta’s thighs while he delicately massages your scalp, applying the right amount of pressure. “thank you…”, your voice is a little muffled due to your cheek being squished against his leg, but he recognises the tiredness behind it and the way your eyes droop a little.

yuta adjusts himself so he can reach over to grab the blanket on the coffee table and rest his back against the sofa better, but your eyes are closed and the movement makes you think he’s trying to get up, eyes shooting open immediately. “shh…”, his hands fly back to your hair, leaning down to pepper your face with kisses– your nose, cheeks, eyelids and temple are all victims of the attack. “i’m not going anywhere, baby, relax…”

“mm, don’t want you to catch my cold, if i have one”, you argue feebly, but make no move to get up from his lap, to which yuta replies, “we can be sick together, it’s okay.” remembering the damp towel, yuta folds it one, two, three times before brushing the stray hairs off your forehead and placing it on the warming surface, instantly feeling a sense of relief from the cool material. he smiles softly when he hears you sigh contently, snuggling yourself into him even more when his fingers return to your scalp.

“i’m gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that”, you warn him slightly incoherently, but you know he understands you because he chuckles a little, dragging his knuckles across the expanse of your cheek endearingly. “that’s the idea, babe. i’ll carry you to bed later, don’t worry.”

and that’s how your afternoon goes, wrapped up in a warm blanket while the throbbing in your head minimises little by little, yuta’s soft hands playing with your hair absentmindedly as your eyes become droopier.

[mimimui]

I saw your "genshin boys asking for a kiss" and i felt like melting into a puddle it's so cute... ㅜㅡㅜ if i may ask, how would the sumeru boys react to reader who is unable to sleep because of their cold? like they try to sleep but the pounding headache, clogged nose, etc is preventing them to do so sobs

thank you so much beforehand!

sumeru boys versus your cold

includes: alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno

tags: established relationship, endearments, fluff, kinda ooc(?) maybe, not proofread i'm sorry, mention of rudolph (is there even a rudolph in genshin? well there is now)

a/n: thank u so much! ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡ i'm also currently suffering from a severely clogged nose so i understand the feeling x_x thanks for the request anon <3 i kinda struggled writing alhaithams aaa i hope it's still ok :') as always .. enjoy !

alhaitham knows you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, so when you started sneezing this morning, he didn't think much of it. he told you to drink some water and take meds, but that's mostly it. only when he was about to retire to your shared bed was when he noticed your loud, constant sniffling.

"(y/n), did you not take meds earlier?" he asks, switching the lamp back on. alhaitham places a hand on your shoulder, slowly moving you to face him. his eyes widen when he sees your red nose and tired eyes. "haitham.. can't sleep.." you mumble, your hands covering your face.

most people think alhaitham is a bit aloof, but they've clearly never seen him take care of you. he urges you to sit up, quickly getting a tissue for your runny nose. when you tell him, "i can't, my head hurts so bad.." he brings the tissue to your nose himself, asking you to blow into it.

this doesn't cure your clogged nose, however, as you continue to sniffle. he lays next to you, wrapping his arm around you, rubbing your back. "breathe through your mouth slower, copy me," he says, breathing at a slow, easy pace for you to replicate.

it takes some time for you to go to sleep, but even so, alhaitham stays awake the entire time, making sure you fall asleep before he does. when he notices your steady breathing and closed eyes, he smiles contently, glad that you were finally able to sleep.

"sleep well, my dear."

kaveh is not a stranger to sleeping with colds, especially since he's prone to sickness from always stays up late. when you tell him you can't sleep because you have a clogged nose, he immediately asks you if you want meds, tissues, or both. as he babbles on, you can only laugh at his reaction when you say, "i want you."

"that's bold for someone with snot running down their nose," he says teasingly, which earns him a pillow getting thrown at his head. "ow! you're mean when you're sick, (y/n)." he jokingly pouts as he sits next to you on the bed, rubbing the spot you hit with the pillow.

his expressions turns into a sad one as you suddenly lie down, your headache making you groan. he looks around for a bit before handing you the box of tissues he meant to give you earlier, telling you to blow your nose to clear it up a bit.

"i can't do this anymore, kaveh. i hate being sick." you cover your face with the blanket, sniffling underneath. "i know, sunshine, i know," he says, patting your thigh gently. "we all get sick from time to time, but trust me, you'll feel better in no time!" his tone is optimistic, but he makes sure not to be too loud, for the sake of your headache.

"...can you help me fall asleep, please?" you peek through the blanket, watching his reaction to your request. he smiles warmly, lying down and continuing to pat your thigh. he hums a calm, familiar tune—one of your favorites that he sings—and you can't help but smile.

it may be hard to breathe at the moment, but rest assured kaveh will comfort you in any way he can.

tighnari tells you to sit on the edge of the bed, in spite of your throbbing headache. you comply though, waiting for him to come back. it feels like a century when he returns to your room with a pot of steaming water. "place the blanket over yourself and the pot."

the hot steam hits your face and you wince a bit, not used to this kind of temperature. but when tighnari sits next to you and places a reassuring hand on your back, you find the steam a bit more bearable.

"nari, what does this do for me?" you ask, removing the blanket from over your head as 10 minutes pass. he mentions something about steam inahalation and so on, talking about how it can help relieve your clogged nose.

you're not yet entirely cured, but it's comfortable enough. he lies down next to you, an arm wrapping around your waist as he tells you he'll get medicine for you in the morning. his voice is soft, quiet, and gentle. it slowly fades away as you fall asleep, a satisfied tighnari beside you as he watches your eyes close.

"i'm happy to take care of you, my lover."

cyno tries to distract you with corny jokes, but archons, as much as you love him, his jokes are only contributing to your headache. he sits down on the bed, holding a glass of warm water he got for you. "i have a joke about colds, but i hope you don't get it."

"cyno, i love you, but you realize i already have colds, right?" he chuckles at your stressed reaction, asking you to sit up so you can drink water. "do you know what kind of shoes colds wear?" you sigh as you lie back down, pulling the covers over your head.

"aaaaa shoe!" he follows up, smiling at his own joke. you feel his head hit the pillow beside you, his hand finding yours to hold. he uses his other hand to pull the blanket off your face, the moonlight illuminating even the redness of your nose.

"seems like i have my own rudolph." you squeeze his hand tightly and he chuckles. "i apologize, (y/n)," cyno says in a low voice, bringing your hand up to his lips. he closes his eyes as he tells you to breathe deeply, repeating the phrase 'breath in, breath out'.

it's still a struggle to fall asleep, but cyno doing his best to help you breathe easier makes you feel a bit better. if you thought he worked hard as the general mahamatra, he works hard at taking care of you as well.

"let's visit tighnari in the morning. rest easy, (y/n)."

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[johnnycakesswitch]

Hey!! I see you’ve been reblogging a lot of sickfic type headcanons and was wondering if maybe you had any for the curtis bros and or johnny?? I’m a sucker for sickfics and I feel like you’d have some really cute headcanons haha

Ok I’m sorry I took a minute to answer but I wanted to think up some rly good ones for you!! Sick fics are my absolute fav so I will do my best!

Ponyboy

• he’s the baby of the family so he gets absolutely doted on when he’s sick and he loves it so much

• gets so many colds in the winter. His nose is perpetually red from having to blow it so much. Always has a wet cough

• when he’s sick he really enjoys being held or laying in someone’s lap on the couch. Soda will hold him close at night and do whatever he can to make him comfy enough to sleep like rub his tummy or back or play with his hair, he absolutely hates seeing his baby brother hurting

• when his head is hurting really bad, Soda will massage his neck and shoulders because migraines really make your entire body hurt so bad

• if his head isn’t hurting too bad he likes watching tv because he’s bored so he’ll curl up on the couch with a bunch of blankets and watch tv with whoever’s around

• If no one else can get off work, Two-Bit will stay home from school and watch Pony. He’s actually really good at taking care of people and Pony likes having him there when his brothers can’t be

• if Pony gets too anxious or stressed he’ll get awful stomachaches, he’ll be nauseous all the time and have no appetite. His brothers know there really isn’t much they can do until he stops feeling this way so Darry just makes him food that’s easy to digest and Soda always rubs his stomach so he doesn’t make himself sick

• if Pony is really sick like a flu or something he’ll lay in bed with Darry, partially because it reminds him of his parents and because his bed is bigger and more comfortable. Usually Soda ends up squeezing in there too

• not necessarily dramatic but can be very whiny. Not in an annoying way but he’ll like make noises in his sleep or just these unintelligible sounds when someone asks him a question, especially if he’s got a bad headache. Just incoherent, miserable whines

• very pukey kid, can’t keep anything down if his stomach is sick and usually throws up if he’s got a migraine. On rare occasions though, he’ll be super nauseous but not actually able to throw up which he hates more than anything, he’d rather just get it over with than feel queasy for a long time

• will stand in the doorway of Darry’s room like “I frew up 🧍‍♂️”

• Darry and Soda really fuss over him like always checking his temperature, asking him what doesn’t feel good, making sure he stays hydrated and try to get something in his tummy. Usually he doesn’t like being babied but being sick is the only exception and he will complain if he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention

• bro will whine about drinking ginger ale and asks for Pepsi instead and Darry’s just like bruh be fr

Sodapop

• poor Soda is a tummy ache survivor. He has such a sensitive stomach it’s not even funny. He physically can’t hide if he’s sick because his stomach starts making these awful noises and that’s how the others always know he’s not feeling good

• don’t even try to make him eat when he’s sick because he will throw it right back up

• when he gets sick it’s like really bad. He gets very high fevers and body aches and is just completely miserable

• needs to be physically comforted because he’s always just so uncomfortable when he’s sick. He likes having his belly rubbed or his back or having his scalp massaged. Darry does that for him to put him to sleep when he’s sick and it works like a charm. Another thing Darry will do is rub his shoulders and arms which he loves because Soda always has trouble getting warm when he’s sick and it feels so nice on his achy muscles

• gets sore throats a lot bc bro breathes w his mouth open at night ✋😭

• Soda looks so endearing when he’s sick though because his eyes are all glossy and his cheeks are flushed and he’s always bundled up under a bunch of blankets which makes him look so tiny and precious

• he always psychs himself out about being sick like he’ll convince himself that he has to throw up so Darry will go sit with him in the bathroom and it won’t ever come and he’s just like “no I swear I’m gonna throw up” and Darry just has to coax him back to bed because it’s been like an hour. Sometimes bro honestly just needs to burp and ends up feeling so much better after

• the most dramatic sneezes ever, if Soda has a cold it’s everyone’s problem bc you can hear him sneeze a block away

• he’s a very emotional sick person if he’s super sick, always really teary and upset because he feels so yucky

• worries Darry so much because he overheats so easily, his temperature will go from low fever to veering on dangerously high like nothing

• Darry makes him put a cold cloth on his face or neck and he hatesss this he always tries to take it off because he hates being cold so Darry will have to sit with him and hold it in place or make sure he doesn’t move it either until Soda falls asleep or Darry thinks it’s been long enough

Darry

• gets sick like a regular amount but it’s usually not that bad

• when he does get pretty sick though, he tries to stay away from the others so they don’t get sick too

• this never works because Soda and Pony will break into his room to snuggle him which he can’t deny that he loves

• the one thing that really gets poor Darry is a cold. He gets the most uncomfortable colds, his ears always ache, his head hurts, his nose runs, it’s just miserable. Soda and Pony can always tell when one is coming on because his colds tend to start with a sore throat and his voice gets really raspy

• Soda will massage his back to help him sleep because he’s so restless when he’s sick and can’t seem to relax properly :(

• stomach bugs affect him the least, he tends to throw up once and feels so much better after, which is good because they definitely hit Pony and Soda hard so he likes that he can quickly feel better and take care of them

• super light sensitive when he has headaches so if he’s holed up in his room for hours, the others know he isn’t feeling good

• when Darry is sick, Soda and Ponyboy make him soup which is actually super good and he really enjoys. They’ll lay in bed with him after and cuddle, Soda usually lays his head on Darry’s stomach and Pony on his chest and Darry puts his arms around them both. It’s soothing for all of them

• he actually gets sick frequently in the winter but it’s a bunch of small, not serious stuff. Like low grade fevers that’ll last a day, a random cough, sore throats, etc. He doesn’t like the winter because he feels like he’s perpetually not 100%

• will always try to go to work, but one time Soda convinced him to stay home by saying “what if you throw up off the roof” and the thought of that was so embarrassing to Darry that he stayed home so he wouldn’t risk it

Johnny

• will usually camp it out at the Curtis house or at Buck’s with Dally

• a very good patient- he doesn’t mind being left alone but he won’t fight being taken care of either

• Darry will always let Johnny lay in his bed or help him get comfortable on the couch if he would rather be with everyone else

• lots of fevers, whether it’s a flu or a cold or whatever, Johnny always runs warm when he doesn’t feel good

• a very sleepy sickie, he usually just wants to sleep off whatever doesn’t feel good. He likes if another person is near him when he’s sleeping, it makes him feel safe

• Dally will always lay with Johnny when he’s sick and at Buck’s, partially because he knows Johnny likes it and so he can keep an eye on him. If Johnny breathes the wrong way Dally’s like 👀

• Johnny likes if Ponyboy reads to him when he’s sick, it gets his mind off of it

• if he throws up it’s really bad, it usually comes on super fast and it’s always a lot. He can’t always get up in time so if Johnny’s sick best believe someone is getting a bin or a garbage can for him to keep close because he’ll go to completely fine to 🤢 super fast

• being sick really takes all his energy away so even if it’s just the sniffles this boy is TIRED. It’ll be 7 pm and he’s like guys can I go to sleep on the couch now 🥺

• will not go home whatsoever if he’s sick because he just can’t deal with both things at once and everyone knows, so they’ll make sure to tell Johnny to stay over so he doesn’t feel bad about asking and try to sleep outside instead

• everyone coddles him but he appreciates it so much

[madschiavelique]

Been vomiting my intestines out all week, can't even get up due to high fever

I need big, strong, Irish-Mexican man to take care of me. Pretty please

okay i am SO sorry i took so long but going back to school happened and i got way too much work per weeks to do

but i have a little holiday week ! so i thought catching up on my old requests might be good hehe

(i didn't include vomit in there bc it's smth that triggers me as stated in my request rules but still made reader pretty sick - i am sick myself atm so YEA enjoy)

summary : miguel takes care of you when you're sick content warnings : none, pure fluff and comfort, no use of Y/N (didn't proofread but i think i kept it a gender neutral reader way ? do correct me if i'm wrong please) word count : 1,1k

You knew when you woke up that morning that work would be utterly impossible. Every joint felt like it was made of lead, your head felt like it was filled with cotton wool and your stomach was screaming at you that something was definitely wrong.

You straightened up, immediately regretting your choice as you almost fell backwards. Your head hurt like hell, your whole body felt cold and you were shaking like jelly.

Last night you'd simply fallen asleep with a little headache and a scratchy throat, but that was nothing like the pain you were feeling now.

"Miguel?" you called, your lips heavy.

You'd been tired the day before, but not that tired. You looked at the clock on your bedside table; it was early enough for Miguel to still be in the flat, unless he was out for a morning jog.

You hesitated to call him again, considering how you seemed to be having trouble swallowing your own saliva. You swallowed, wincing as you felt as if your throat had been riddled with blows from the inside.

You made a second attempt to sit up, less abruptly this time. You were thinking, wondering what you could have done in the last few days to get yourself into something so violent.

You needed a painkiller, and you needed it fast if you wanted to keep your wits about you for the rest of the day. You turned slowly, placing your feet on the ground. You felt completely frozen.

You pushed on your legs, feeling for the moment as strong as a slightly overstretched elastic band. Once you were completely up on your feet, Miguel entered the room.

As you'd expected, he'd just come back from his morning jog.

"Good morning, nena," he smiled as he opened one of his wardrobe doors, not wanting to let you near him while he was still sweating.

You were almost jealous of his energy at the moment, how was it that you were feeling so unpleasantly uncomfortable and he was frolicking around like a lionless antelope?

"Mornin'," you croaked, swallowing and wrinkling your nose at the sensation as this simple gesture made you cough a couple of times.

Your cough was slightly heavy, which obviously surprised you as much as it did Miguel. He was putting on a new pullover, his head sticking out over the collar, revealing his furrowed brow.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, taking a few steps towards you.

"I don't know..." you tried to speak words, but it was as if you'd bitten them into pieces before spitting them out lazily.

Not at all satisfied with your answer, Miguel placed a hand on your cheek, his frown deepening as he placed his lips against your forehead.

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours, easing the chill that clung to your skin.

"Cariño," he murmured, stepping back and looking into your glassy eyes, "you have a fever."

"It's all right," you mumbled as his hand, warm as tenderness, caressed your cheek with its thumb, letting your head sink into his palm as if onto a pillow.

The 'everything's fine' was more automatic than true. You knew how Miguel, despite his sometimes disinterested demeanour towards others, could become worried about you with frightening alacrity.

"When was the last time you had a day off?" he'd ask, sighing with an exasperation that sounded like 'you weren't careful were you'.

The effort of thinking about it gave you an expression as painful as if you were banging your head against a wall. So that's why you were so sick.

It's true that, come to think of it, you hadn't managed to get even a single second's respite for several weeks. You were filing paper after paper, spending the time you had when you got home wrapping up files, and the pace had given you the impression that you were gradually turning into a robot.

"Two weeks?" you suggested.

"Nena, you've been like this for over a month now," corrected Miguel.

"Fooling is my favourite thing to do," you purred, still pressing your head into his hand and closing your eyes.

"You shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard, it's not good for you," his tone was gentle, his eyebrows previously furrowed in frustration now knotted in worry.

"You're one to talk," you laughed softly, your eyes reopening to meet his gaze.

"I - yes, well," he admitted, biting the inside of his cheek. "Let's get you back into bed."

You weren't going to fight what you wanted most in the world right now, so Miguel gently helped you to lie down. It pained him to see you in such a state. No matter how many threats he fought, he couldn't stop you getting sick.

He piled the cushions behind your back to keep you comfortable, tucked you in carefully, and sat down beside you, one of his hands resting on your thigh covered by the blanket.

He stroked it with his thumb through the fabric, letting out a sigh followed by a thin smile that made him relax his shoulders.

"Tell me what you want for today, anything. Your favourite food, watch your favourite film, have me bring you anything. I'll stay with you today."

That Miguel would do you the honour of staying with you today, putting his work aside, almost made you want to cry. Whether it was joy or surprise, or both combined, you had no idea, but what was certain was that the sensations your body was sending you, which were quite pleasant, would undoubtedly be better in his presence.

"Let's start with a painkiller," Miguel suggested as he stood up and headed for your medicine cabinet, "and something to counter the fever."

"I was looking forward to living in agony for the rest of my life," you laughed to yourself as you waited for him to return.

The rest of the day was in stark contrast to everything you'd had to endure in the last month or so of relentless work. Miguel brought you food in bed, asked how your symptoms were progressing by the hour, and you watched a number of films that you enjoyed together.

He kept hugging you, softly caressing your skin, making sure you’d always finish your glass of water and wouldn’t stop for a second to be by your side.

He’d kiss your forehead, your cheeks and wouldn’t listen to you before kissing your lips. You kept telling him you didn’t want him to be this close to you for the sole reason that you didn’t want him to get sick as well. But he didn’t care, he didn’t care if he got sick, because the one who was ill as of now was you and you needed all the comfort you could get.

You couldn't have wished for a better miracle cure than Miguel's presence.

[shoalweedhence]

You were out my League

Warnings: Reader with self-confidence issues

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN Reader

Content Tag: Hurt/Comfort & Fluff

Word Count: 1543

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

Just as you turn the page of the book lying in your lap, you feel the covers beneath you shift slightly. Glancing away from the page, you watch as Eddie, eyes closed and fully immersed in his own world, bobs his head to the music you can faintly hear as it filters through his headphones. Your eyes lower down to his fidgeting hand, fingers splayed on the bed -his bed- as they tap along to the melody. The rings adorning his knuckles glint in the afternoon sunlight streaming through his open window. The warm air caresses your face, guiding you like a soft hand tilting your chin back up. You look at your boyfriend’s concentrated features, his eyebrows knitting, the edge of his nose pinching, the corners of his mouth moving almost imperceptibly in a downward motion.

You could lose yourself for hours at the sight of him -actually, you already had, many times before, and did not plan on stopping anytime soon, partly because you enjoyed looking at him very much, and partly because you thought that, maybe, if you looked at him just long enough, the answer to a seemingly life-long question you had would finally be answered.

Because, seriously, how *had* you managed to go out with him? 

You had been told many times that you should not question it. ‘If he’s happy with you and you’re happy with him, don’t overthink it’ your friends of the Hellfire Club had been quick to reassure you, both wanting you to be happy as well as rooting for their leader to finally have some more positives in his life. 

You wanted to not overthink, of course, and you did your best to not let your mind wander whenever Eddie did something kind for you; that one time he agreed to give you a lift back home because your car was getting fixed, the way he would hold your hands -whenever the Hoosier weather decided to cool for two days in the year- and bring them up to his face, blowing a warm breath on them, the way he would bring you food to share and a movie to watch when things were tough, the way he was patient and considerate, but just persistent enough to have you explain what your limits were in this relationship… he would just drop anything he was doing in a heartbeat if it was for you. Had you ever done anything like that for him?

Ultimately, though, the voice at the back of your head would just not stop nagging you, and you learned to live with this constant headache.

You jumped a little when you felt something warm touch your hand. You looked down hastily, noticing a ringed hand covering yours before your eyes flitted back up towards Eddie’s.

“What is it?” He asked, taking off his headphones with his free hand.

“What do you mean?” You answered after a pause, your throat feeling stuffy, as if it was full of cotton, since you had not talked for a while.

“You were staring,” he said, and as your eyes averted his from embarrassment. “I don’t mind, it’s just,” he added quickly, shifting his position on the bed so he was facing you, both of his hands playing with yours, “sometimes you get that look in your eyes, and it seems like you’re not having happy thoughts…” 

Of course he had noticed. One more reason to get him a trophy for best boyfriend on the planet, you thought.

But despite how elated your heart felt, singing his praises for how well he was able to read you, now, you also felt quite vulnerable. He was your partner, and a wonderful one at that, and you knew you could trust him -seriously, you could not imagine yourself with someone you did not fully trust, and Eddie met that criteria with remarkable skill. 

Still, you wondered if he might take it badly. After all, if you told him you did not feel you deserved his love, did that imply that you thought he might expect something from you which you were not aware of? Did you think he was manipulating you? Were you the one leading him on, hiding what you were really thinking? Did you even trust that anyone could love you?

“You don’t have to tell me,” Eddie said when he saw you spiralling down into your thoughts, “but I want to be here for you, and I will listen if there’s anything you want to tell me.”

The sound of his voice, deep and slightly gravely as he kept it low with a confidential tone, brought you back to reality. The feeling of his calloused fingertips tracing abstract patterns on the back of your palm now registering through your unfocused senses. As you looked back up at him, meeting his curious and concerned eyes you felt the shackles of your heart slacken.

“I just…” You trailed off, searching his soulful eyes for a hint of irritation, but instead finding bucket loads of compassion, “you are so out of my league.”

You were expecting a laugh, and he did smile a bit, but instead, he tilted his head to the side.

“Why do you think that?”

You inhaled, feeling the contents of the inside of your heart make their way up your throat, and as soon as you opened your mouth, you felt any hope of restraint dissolve.

“Well, you’re incredible, in every possible way. You’re strong, impossibly kind, extremely skilled at anything you set your mind to, you are so panoptically passionate, you’re funny, you’re unfathomably dependable and you never let your friends down, you’re goofy, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, you can sense when people need cheering up and you just cheer them up by, I don’t know, some kind of Eddie magic,” you gestured with your free hand as if you held a wand, earning a chuckle from Eddie, “you’re just so amazing, I don’t think I deserve-”

You stopped yourself before the sentence could fully leave your lips, swallowing back the last word with difficulty. When you spoke again, your voice was quieter:

“And then you go around and do the sweetest things for me, the most touching gestures and you’re so thoughtful…”

You sighed, taking a few seconds to steady your breathing as your soliloquy left your lungs empty. You looked at the book in your lap, the words incoherently blurring together, the sentences stringing themselves in one long incomprehensible line. Your eyes moved away from the paper, getting distracted by the bigger palms having captured your own. 

“You don’t think you deserve that?” Eddie asked calmly.

You looked up at him, his brown eyes shifting with an emotion you found impossible to decipher. You nodded.

Eddie smiled sadly, “Sweetheart, you’re like the perfect opposite of a Hobbit.”

If it were not for the whiplash you had just been victim to, your heart melting at the nickname he gave you, followed by the name of a fictional race you were not necessarily certain you wanted to be associated with, you surely would have answered more eloquently. Instead, only a ‘huh’ escaped your lips.

“You’re exactly like Bilbo’s evil doppelgänger,” Eddie continued, nodding to himself.

“...I’m not following.”

“Anytime something bad happens during his journey, what does Bilbo Baggins do? He ruminates -which you’re quite good at doing too, that’s maybe your one similarity- but he looks out onto the unjust world that took him out of his cozy, warm and delightful Hobbit hole and he vents his frustration outwards. You, my dear, do the opposite. Anytime something good happens to you, and yes, I will speak of myself as a positive in your life, that string of compliments you gave me is going to serve as an ego boost for years to come, you start questioning it, thinking back on all the negative you’ve ever experienced and wondering if you do deserve that good.” One of Eddie’s hands left yours and he cupped your cheek, “be more like Bilbo. Take credit for the good things when they happen and be frustrated at the world when things go wrong, not the other way around.”

You closed your eyes, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill and leaned into his touch. 

“Come here,” Eddie whispered, pulling you into his chest as he rested his head on top of yours.

Closing your eyes, you focused on his strong heartbeat that you could feel pulsating at regular intervals against your back. There was also his scent, which you could now take full inhales of as you stood closer to him, though the smell of weed was the most intense one. Your fingers idly played with the pins and patches on his jean jacket, tracing the designs that you knew by heart.

After a few moments, you turned your head just a bit, looking up at him. You bit your lip as your smile threatened to morph into laughter at the joke formulating in your head.

“If I become more like Bilbo I might just grow long curly hairs on my feet, though.”

The echo of Eddie’s laugh reverberated against your back as his chest shook.

“I’d still love you.”