#i took too much effort cleaning up the face and bandages

[head-empty404]

made a sprite edit for purnk :D

[morimemichael]

Pretty Boy

Brahms x reader

Brahms gets hurt badly after fighting your ex, and in the middle his mask flew off somewhere. Unconscious on the floor, you try to help him and clean the wounds

wg: Besides mentions of blood and open wounds, just fluff and Brahms being Brahms <3

It was a nasty fight, shattered glass flew over everywhere. Brahms got your ex to run away tho. For him, the fight and all the wounds were worth it. He’ll do anything for you. Due to the uncommon amount of effort he did and wounds he gain, he pass out right then and there. His mask was out, somewhere on the floor.

“Brahms…” You whispered. He didn’t respond. Your eyes went through every wound he had, until they reached his uncovered face. You could tell that at least a %50 of his face was burnt. Not that you cared tho, you still wouldn’t leave him for that.

With much, much effort you lift him to the bed, so you could treat his wounds better. His chest rising up slowly, a sign he was still breathing. You gathered everything you could reach to disinfect the bloody cuts. You were lucky enough the Heelshires had everything you could need in case something like this happens. You managed to get some pads, bandages and alcohol. You wet the little pads with alcohol and brush them against the fresh wounds, sounds of pain and visible discomfort could be heard from Brahms. You felt terrible, but you needed to disinfect.

“I know…I know Brahms.” You reassured. Whenever you brush the pads against his wounds you would move your hand in a certain way so the could blow some air in attempt to lessen the sting.

A few minutes later you managed to bandage all of his wounds. He was still asleep. He seemed so peacefully you didn’t wanna disturb him. You sat down on the bed next to him and caressed his messy brown hair, admiring his features. You took your right hand and placed it on his burnt side.

Who cares if he’s burnt? You thought to yourself.

You didn’t know how ir when you stared whispering things to his sleeping form.

“You know, I like your hair Brahms.” You didn’t know if he could hear you or not, but honestly, you didn’t care.

“And your eyes…your eyes are special.” You continued. You kept complimenting his body and face, and all the things he did for you, and keeping you safe.

“Thanks…for what you did for me today. But I don’t want you to do it again, it’s far too dangerous. And I love you too much for you to bleed out on me.” This was the first time you tell him you love him. Eventually you fell asleep on his side, you being the big spoon. You liked the body difference, but with this guy, being the big spoon was a little bit uncomfortable. Suddenly you woke up when your arms reached to hug him but didn’t find a body to hug.

“Brahms?…” You called for him. You didn’t found him next to you on the bed, instead his was sitting on the edge of it. “Brahms?”

“You know, I didn’t want you to see my face…eventually i would take my mask off. Once there was enough trust between us. That was the original plan…” He explained.

“Oh…Brahms…I really don’t mi-” You were interrupted by him.

“I-I didn’t want to show you my face, I don’t want to scare you away…please, your everything I have left.” You notice his voice cracking and sobbing when he told you this.

“I wasn’t going to leave you Brahms…I would have never…” Now, you sitting next to him, you give him little palms on his back.

“Thanks…for patching me up.”

“You’re welcome, Brahmsy.” You said smiling. “Hey…look at me, look at me.” With one hand you tilted his head so he was facing you.

“I love you. You heard me?” You looked at him straight into his eyes.

“I love you too.” He replied.

You whipped the tears from his cheeks with your sweater’s sleeve and then proceeded to kiss his burnt cheek. You melted when you saw he blushed.

“Aww…that’s so sweet.” You remarked.

“I swear to god if you tell any-” This time you interrupted.

“Yeah…yeah…”

“I-i, if-…okay, you win.” He said at last.

Once you were in the room, he caressed the exactly spot your lips touched moment ago, and blushed again.

Well, this short fic was due that people voted for a Brahms fic 😊 hope you liked it, and again sorry for any misspelling mistakes, English it’s not my mother language.

See you around!

[blissfullyapillow]

┃Blade + “only for the mission”

₊˚⊹♡ Blade x fem reader

₊˚⊹♡ wc: 1,555~

₊˚⊹♡ Warnings: self inflicted injuries + scars (Blade), only one bed trope, fake marriage that develops into very real feelings, totally legit Stellaron Hunter mission, a meddling Kafka & Silverwolf 

₊˚⊹♡ Summary: Blade needs someone to play the role of his wife for a mission, and who else would be a better candidate than yours truly?

₊˚⊹♡ Pillow Talks: I had a random moment of inspiration as I imagined what Blade would be like if he was in a similar situation as Loid Forger. I could see it. (I'm being delusional)

₊˚⊹♡ Masterlist 

‧₊˚ ┊When Blade has to “marry” reader for a really obscure and totally real Stellaron hunter mission he was assigned to

𓆩♡𓆪

⋆〃You wonder why he chooses you of all people to be in a fake marriage with, but his reasoning is solid

⋆〃“We’ve worked together before, and we tolerate each other. I see no better candidate.”

⋆〃 If only you didn’t secretly harbor a crush on the unattainable man

⋆〃 Surprisingly a really great fake husband

⋆〃 Takes care of you and pays attention to details

⋆〃 He typically hates being cared for, but for you, in this instance, he’ll let his walls down and allow you to dote on him

⋆〃Cue a long pampering session where you unnecessarily give him a head to toe massage on his rare day off work

⋆〃He only allowed you to do it for the mission, though. Just to ensure you’re happy with your “relationship”

⋆〃Typically busy during the day; he gathers intel and often finds himself getting caught up in one too many altercations

⋆〃He starts to feel guilty when he returns home one evening and you fret over his many bleeding cuts, most of them of his own doing

⋆〃He can’t find it in himself to refuse your offer to patch him up. He has to swallow the lump in his throat as you delicately clean and bandage his fresh wounds.

⋆〃A soft, unexpected noise of surprise leaves him when he feels the soft press of your lips against his old scars

⋆〃“It’s only for the mission. I have to be in a suitable condition to continue fighting..” is how he reasoned with himself

⋆〃Yet his heart squeezed in his chest when he returned home the following day, with notably less self inflicted scars, and your radiant smile greeted him. He took notice of the unconcealed relief present within your irises

⋆〃He doesn’t know why, but it makes him feel good

⋆〃He has no idea of just how much of a hold he has on you

⋆〃One evening he brushed past you, squeezing by with just enough room, yet he used his hand to briefly squeeze your hip in passing

⋆〃the way your brain just shut. down.

⋆〃Your legs literally felt like jelly as he glanced back at you, only to send a little smirk your way before he entered your shared kitchen

⋆〃If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was flirting with you.

⋆〃… well, maybe he was.

⋆〃On a different day, when you two are in the process of tailing a person of interest, you wind up needing to share a bed. 

♡⸝⸝

“I can’t believe I slept so well last night.” You whisper. You yawn as you stretch your limbs, your butt bumping against something as you stretch your body in a cat-like manner. “Well, that makes one of us.” Blade groggy voice immediately erases any fog of sleep you had clouding your brain.

You yelp, craning your neck back to look at Blade.

He’s visibly tired, an arm around your waist as you’re suspiciously close to him, even after your stretch.

You make an effort to move away, but he simply drags you back. He won’t admit it, but he couldn’t sleep a wink last night since you both shared a bed for the first time. He almost offered to sleep on the floor when he saw the look of sheer horror on your face when you realized the predicament you were in.

You two got the last available room of the gaudy hotel you were forced to reside in, all to continue tailing the person of interest, but there was only one bed in this room. It was late into the night and Blade was ready to sleep. He wasted no time stripping until the only thing left was his pants, before he snuggled under the covers.

You would’ve found the scene cute if you weren’t too busy freaking out.

“If you don’t get in I’ll drag you.” You know that tone. He isn’t joking. His eye pierces through the dark and you can see them narrow at you. When you still don’t move, he gets up. He ignores your flustered protests as he simply picks you up and plops you on the bed.

It seems you have no choice in the matter.

In that instance, you quickly go through your night routine before joining Blade in bed.

You expected to be kept all night as you tried to retain your composure, but you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Lo and behold, Blade was unable to fall asleep.

Your body heat permeated his skin, and he found the sensation to be… pleasant?

He didn’t know how fond he was of the thought, but he knew it was true. Your body unconsciously moved closer to him, and his entire body tensed. You stopped moving for a few minutes, and Blade found himself slowly drifting off.

Unfortunately for him, you wind up inviting yourself into the comfort of his arms.

The content sigh you released melted his heart, and he couldn’t find it in himself to push you away.

And so Blade held you throughout the night, rotating between drifting off and being abruptly awakened when you shifted in his arms.

Since when was his body so hyper-aware of your presence?

𓆩♡𓆪

⋆〃When Blade inevitably realizes that you hold more importance than just being his lovely ‘wife,’ his attitude begins to change

⋆〃It’s subtle, but you know Blade well enough to catch on to the little hints

⋆〃He’ll return home with little trinkets or gifts, things that caught his attention on the way home. They reminded him of you in a way.

⋆〃What really caught you attention is when he returned home with a beautiful hairpin. He instructed you to turn around before placing it in your hair. “This suits you, and it can be used as a weapon.” His simple explanation makes your heart race.

⋆〃You cherish that hairpin. Every time your gaze lands on it, a very obvious smile lights your features. Blade notices this and it elicits an oddly pleasant feeling within him.

⋆〃Soon the end of your mission draws near, and you find yourself longing to continue the charade. Being Blade’s wife has honestly been a lovely experience for you, as surprising as it is to say.

⋆〃Unbeknownst to you, Blade holds similar sentiments.

♡⸝⸝

“It’s not like we’re going to get married and live happily ever after.” Blade’s grumbled words serve as motivation for your fierce retort.

“Why not?”

His head whips around, his wide orbs stare deep into yours.

You hold his gaze.

His lips part in surprise. Honestly, he didn’t expect such a response. A strange part of him likes the idea, and his cheeks flush at the mere thought.

“…Pardon?”

You start, blinking your eyes owlishly at Blade.

The ‘Pardon’ was very uncharacteristic of Blade, and the pure shock in his tone is borderline comical.

It causes you to break character, and soon you’re giggling as you clutch your stomach. Blade is not amused; he closes his eyes as his arms wrap around the shattered blade he carries everywhere.

When you finally stop laughing, Blade is the one to say something first.

“Is marriage with me something you seek?” His question is knowing in a way; it’s almost as if he’s seen right through you, and your breath hitches at the terrifying thought. Were you becoming too obvious in your affections? Well, that question has a blatant answer, but still!

“U-Um..” “Be honest with me.” His words are rough. His eyebrows are furrowed as his eyes slowly open to peer at you. His orbs hold your gaze. You couldn’t think of a believable excuse even if you wanted to.

“I… yes…” You squeak.

You think you see his shoulders visibly relax once he hears your answer, but you must be fooling yourself.

He quickly closes the distance between the two of you. You squeal as he harshly pulls you into him, and your voice is soon muffled by the rough caress of his soft lips.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

He groans; your touch ignites something within him that has been dormant for far too long.

He quickly pulls away, only to say, “I’ll make it happen. For real this time,” before his lips seal yours once more.

...

Well, this was an unexpected outcome.

But an entirely welcome one nonetheless.

𓆩♡𓆪

⋆〃When you both return to the Stellaron Hunter HQ, hands intertwined, Kafka and Silverwolf are the first to greet you.

⋆〃Upon the sight of your intertwined hands, Kafka’s smirk only deepens. Silverwolf rolls her eyes as she releases a dramatic sigh. You watch in confusion as Silverwolf fishes for something in her pocket, before she hands Kafka a stack of credits

⋆〃“Welcome home lovebirds. How did the mission go? Judging by the looks on your faces, I see it was successful.” Kafka is all too pleased with herself.

⋆〃Blade is a bit confused, still in the dark, but he acknowledges Kafka’s statement.

⋆〃”What of it?” Is his gruff reply. Kafka only smiles, a knowing glint in her eyes, and Silverwolf has a similar look of content on her features

⋆〃Who knew the Stellaron Hunters loved to play matchmaker?

𓆩♡𓆪

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

cowritten with @schemmentis let us know what you think! 🤍

summary: the girls spend some time with nonna while you get a few moments with melissa... and then someone visits you late at night.

WC: ~4.15k

“With—” You blink slowly as your wife’s words sink in. “With Barbara Howard?!”

“She’s the safest place and you know it. They’ll never think she knows anything because she doesn’t. Hell, she asked me if we were committin’ fraud, Y/N. I only told her the truth; we aren’t and it’s an extra copy of the financials and they were gonna take the originals from the salon. They did, didn’t they?”

“Of course they did, they took everything that wasn’t nailed down. But Barbara? If she finds out the truth, Mel—”

“She won’t.”

“If she does,” You barrel on over your wife speaking. “You and I both know she’ll turn it over to the Feds. And…we’ll probably lose her in both our lives- the girls’ lives… It won’t matter how much she loves you or me or the girls. Barb is all about the right thing no matter what.”

Melissa’s hand runs through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “That won’t happen, alright? We just have to get through this. Eventually they’re gonna realize there’s nothin’ here, and they’re gonna fuck off. Then I’ll take the ledgers back from Babs and everything will go back to normal.”

You sink back into the couch cushions, sighing heavily. You want to believe your wife. You want to think that’s true. Except the amount of pressure from the Feds just the last two days is more than you’ve ever had to deal with. You might have Sammy representing you, who is just as confident as your wife that they won’t find anything at all, except you can’t help but think they will. 

Every day this drags on, every bit of extra pressure put on, it’s beginning to wear at you. You grip Mel’s hand lightly, inspecting the newly wrapped injury all over again though you don’t undo your own work. Your thumb lightly strokes her knuckles before bringing the bandaged hand up to your lips in an effort to comfort her and you both. You’ll never give up Mel or your girls. You won’t endanger them.

Still, a part of you wonders if it would be safer for them if you gave up yourself. You could go back down to the station, request Agent Danik and Shaw, return to that godforsaken gray interrogation room and tell them everything. You wouldn’t cop to killing Bobby, because you didn’t, but you could come clean about the salon if it means it would get them away from Mel and your twins…it would be worth it, wouldn’t it?

Melissa’s arms wrap around you as she curls into your side. Her head rests on your shoulder. “You barely got any sleep last night and after today…I won’t say no to a nap. Ma called me to let me know she’s getting the girls…we could rest awhile and head over there for dinner.”

Instantly, thoughts of giving yourself up shift into fighting for yourself instead. With your wife curled against you, and thoughts of dinner with your mother-in-law and your girls. You wouldn’t give up for the world this little life of yours. 

You turn your head to kiss Melissa’s hair, gently easing the both of you to lay on your couch as you return her embrace. “Best idea you’ve had our whole marriage.” You tease, already half asleep.

It earns you a light slap to your arm. “Yeah, right. We both know the best idea of our marriage was the girls.”

“Yeah,” You mumble, your fingers lazily carding through red locks. “You’re right.”

“I usually am, amore, I thought you knew that already.”

You can’t even bring yourself to argue or call her over confident. You only smile, warming over with your affection for your wife like it’s the first time all over again. You never get tired of that feeling.

After a nap that perhaps was a bit too long for your liking, you blink your eyes awake to see that wonderful woman you get to call your wife scrolling on her phone as she continues to lay on you.

“How’s your hand feeling, mo ghrá?” you ask her gently as you kiss her temple softly.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Melissa sighs. “But I’ll be okay. You know I always am.”

“I know, I know,” you chuckle lowly. It didn’t happen often, but when she first opened her restaurant, the nicks and cuts to her fingers and knuckles were more frequent because she was always flying around trying to handle everything all at once. The number of times it's happened since she settled into her role and the business took off dwindled, but each time it happened you were always there to wrap her hands and nurse them back to health.

“What time is it?” you ask as you stretch just slightly, but you can’t with her still on top of you.

“5:30,” she replies. “Ma has the girls eating dinner right now I’m sure.”

“I suppose we should go be mothers to our children,” you sigh softly as your hand settles on her forearm and rubs it soothingly.

Melissa puts down her phone, and when you think she’s going to slide off of you, she only curls further into you.

“Ten more minutes,” the woman requests quietly. Her grip tightens on you. “Just ten minutes of the two of us... I don’t know how much longer we have.”

There it is- as much as she tried to convince you that you were going to be fine with your church friend holding onto the books, she’s terrified- terrified of losing you for an uncertain amount of time, maybe forever if things take a turn for the worst and your fate turns out to be the same as Bobby’s.

You oblige her request, pressing yet another soft kiss to her temple before holding her tightly against you. The two of you together silently pray that everything works out in your favor, you’re able to evade the feds over this debacle, and continue on with life. You contemplate how you can get yourself out of the mob, how she can get herself out of the mafia, and you can leave this dark world that you know. Unfortunately you know that the only logistical way out of this all is death- or to fake your deaths. But you still hope and pray that you can find a way out- if only for your daughters. They don’t deserve to grow up with two parents always putting them at risk and then to have to take on your debts once you are no longer walking this earth with them. You want them to have a chance to go to Heaven, because if Heaven and Hell are real and true... you and your wife are almost certainly going to Hell.

Those ten minutes pass by almost silently, aside from your breathing, and then you sigh, “We really should go over to your ma’s and spend some time with the girls.”

“We should,” Melissa smiles softly as she lifts her head from the crook of your neck. She kisses you gently. “Ti amo, mi amore.”

“Tá mé i ngrá leat,” you reply just as softly, mumbled against her lips.

She’s up and off of you a few seconds later, offering you a hand to help you off the couch. The two of you quietly make your way out to the car and drive off in the direction of the matriarch of the family and your girls.

“Mam!” Rosie runs as fast her little legs will take her towards you. You scoop her up in a hug and press a million little kisses to her still chubby cheeks.

“Mommy!” Cat echoes as she runs for Melissa. Your wife crouches down with open arms and is nearly taken to the ground at the force of your oldest twin daughter. 

“Gentle, my love,” the redhead says softly as she sweeps your little girl off her feet and props her on her hip- the right hip as opposed to the left that Cat usually sits on.

Ever the observant, the little girl crinkles her nose just slightly in a way that screams Melissa. “Why am I on this side?” she asks.

“Mommy can’t hold both of you for a bit again,” you say softly. “She cut up her fingers again at the restaurant.”

“Silly Mommy,” Rosie chirps from your own hip. She leans over in your hold to press a kiss to Melissa’s cheek while Cat sloppily kisses your own.

“Girls! I told you to say hello to your mothers and then come back to finish your meals!” You can hear Melissa’s mother from the dining room. Both girls make faces that clearly say, ‘Oops!’ before giggling.

You and your wife carry the girls back into the room with all of the food and set them down in their chairs before leaning down to kiss Melissa’s mother’s cheeks before sliding into your own chairs.

“Oi, Lissa,” the older woman groans. “Cut yourself again, did you?”

“It was an accident, Ma!” the redhead groans.

“You need to stop flying around that restaurant of yours,” her mother scolds lightly as she scoops out rather large portions of the ribollita. “Everything will get done in time, and you need to take care of yourself!”

Dinner is loud, as it always is, and then you find yourself holding both of your girls on the couch while Melissa and her mother clean up dinner and prepare to bring dessert into the living room. Both girls chatter on about how their days at school went, and it’s quite hard to keep up with who is saying what, but you do your best to keep their stories straight.

Once you’ve all had your share of dessert, you stand, both girls on your hips. “I think it’s about time we get the girls home and to bed... I promised a story last night, and while I couldn’t keep it yesterday, I’m here tonight.”

Both girls yawn against you as Melissa slings both of their book bags over her shoulder before you all bid her mother a goodnight. 

You're tucking the girls securely into their car seats in the back when you hear a shout. “Oi! Youse left your bag, Lissa!”

You glance over your shoulder to see your mother-in-law leaning out the door with your wife's large purse. She's always carried too big of one since the day you met. You glance back to Melissa in the passenger seat. She looks exhausted but is about to open her door to get back out of the car.

“I got it.” You say, stopping her short. You smile at her question if you're sure. You lean between the front seats enough to kiss her. “Anything for you.” You whisper. “You know that.”

You turn and jog back up the sidewalk from the driveway to the front door. Your fingers curling around the handle next to Melissa’s mothers. “Thanks, Ma. You know she'd be lost without her bottomless bag.”

She smiles at you, though her fingers do not release her daughter's bag. She uses the handle to gently tug you closer. 

“I'm hearing whispers, Y/N.” She says lowly. “Ya know things ain't good when the gossip starts reaching the old folk like me.” 

“You're not old.” You reflexively say. It earns you a smile that mirrors your wife's from the older woman.

“I said it the day you married Lissa. I'll say it again today. Take care of my girl, Y/N. She chose you. Don't turn that into a mistake. You know I hate cleaning up mistakes.”

You answer exactly the same as you did on your wedding day. With a smile and, “Always, Mrs. Schemmenti. Takin’ care of your daughter is the only thing I care about.” You lean forward to kiss both her cheeks in goodbye. “And now your granddaughters.” You add softly before making your way back to the car.

“What’d she say?” Melissa asks as soon as you slip into the driver’s seat. You gently set her bag in her lap.

“Nothin’.” You answer swiftly as you back the car down the driveway and out onto the street.

Melissa scoffs next to you. “Yea. she said somethin’, what was it?” Your wife presses as she reaches for your hand resting on the gear shift.

You tangle your fingers with hers, kissing her knuckles. “Only what she’s said to me since the first time she met me.” You assure softly.

“Take care of my daughter.” Melissa says in time with you repeating her mother’s words. You nod, pressing an extra kiss to her hand before you lower it slightly to simply hold it in your own.

“Y’know she loves you more than anythin’.” You murmur, squeezing her hand lightly.

“Hm.” Melissa hums, her eyes on the street lamps passing as you drive your little family home. “Maybe not more than Mickey. He is the baby of the family and all.”

“How much longer till he’s out? It’s gettin’ close ain’t it?”

“Early next year, I think. I’ll double check next time we go up for a visit. Those damn letters take too long.”

“You’ll make sure you tell him I said hi, huh?”

Melissa rolls her eyes at your request. They slide away from street lamps, to the ceiling of your car, to land on you. “Y’know, I always do. He loves you almost as much as I love you.”

“Uh huh, my backup Schemmenti.” You tease with a smile. Yours and Melissa’s brother’s inside joke. He always said if she was dumb enough to divorce you, he’d propose so you could keep the last name and still come to family dinners. 

“Yea, yea, backup Schemmenti that you ain’t ever gonna need.” Melissa mutters. A moment later her hand is pulling away from yours when you slow the car for the red light. Her fingers lightly gripping your jaw to get your head to turn to kiss you properly for a drawn out moment. She pulls away when the light turns green again. “Mickey ain’t ever gettin’ to do that. Not even over my dead body.” She huffs.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Shut up and get me home. I’m tired.”

You do end up getting all four of you home in one piece, and for that, Melissa is grateful. She grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder before carefully removing Rosie from her carseat. You do the same with Cat. If you can get the two of them into bed without them waking up, life will be so much easier. 

By some miracle, you do get them into the house and in their rooms without them waking up. You then take your wife’s hand and lead her into the bedroom, only to see that your room is still flipped upside down from when the police had raided.

You groan. You really don’t feel like lifting the heavy safe off your bed and attempting to get it back into the floorboard. You do so though, before crawling into bed yourself. Melissa slides in next to you, turning on her side so that she can get as close to you as possible, resting her head on your chest. 

“When do you think this is all going to be over?” she whispers to you.

You look down to see her face being lit by the moonlight and the one street light that flickers outside of the window overtop your bed. 

You shrug and kiss her temple. “Níl a fhios agam,” you sigh. “Níl a fhios agam.”

She hates that you don’t know. She hates that she doesn’t know either. 

Both of you are usually so in control of everything that happens around you. The last time that you weren’t in control and your worlds were turned upside down is the day that the doctor told you you were carrying twins- and even that level of uncontrollable circumstances stemmed from a choice you had deliberately made.

 Melissa remembers the day that she had broken down in tears, consumed by her worry for you. She was absolutely terrified that there would be complications in the pregnancy because carrying multiples was almost always more dangerous than just a single baby. She was absolutely paranoid that somebody from either family would get you caught up in their own business, and that something would happen to you and the two unborn babies inside of you. The next day, she went to Thursday morning mass and prayed with Barbara for your safety and well-being. The day that you had safely delivered those two beautiful girls of yours and all three of you were healthy was a relief to her. But even then, thoughts of fear lingered.

Melissa also remembers the day when your belly had popped, and it made you a hormonal mess to see that you were actually carrying now. You had cried to her your own fears and doubts of your safety, their safety, that you weren’t quite sure if you were ever meant to be a mother. She remembers the way that you had clung to her in a moment of weakness as you choked out that while having children and becoming a mother was all you had ever wanted since you were little, you couldn’t believe that you were bringing two little ones into this cruel world. She recalls holding you that whole day, assuring you that not a hair on your head would be touched, that your unborn children were going to be safe and more loved than any other children, and that you were absolutely going to be the best mam to your babies. Those thoughts never quite dissipated throughout the months of your pregnancy. But once you had laid your eyes on those little girls squirming and crying on your chest, you knew that she was right- that you were all safe, at least for the time being, and Caterina Ann and Rosalina Marie were going to grow up with more love than they knew what to do with.

But this? The feds were on you for something that you had no part in, and if they continue to dig it’s only a matter of time until you get caught as part of the mafia and the mob. There are too many moving pieces for either of you to say with certainty what’s to happen in the future. There is no safety net or light at the end of the tunnel that you can see. These circumstances were absolutely, one-hundred percent, out of your control. And that? That horrifies Melissa.

You hold your wife tightly to your chest, your hand tracing mindless patterns across her spine to provide what comfort you can. Eventually, you hear her breathing even out into deep and slow breaths as she slips off to sleep. 

Your own eyes trail over the ceiling of your bedroom. What can you do? You're turning the entirety of the situation over in your mind repeatedly, trying to find the answer. You search for even something little to grasp, to control- even if it's just enough to provide some sense of stability and comfort to your wife. You don't really care if you get any; you'll deal with the fears and worries if it means Melissa is content and happy. 

You don't know when you do finally fall asleep. It feels like five minutes is as long as you've slept when you're startling back awake.

“What the fuck?” Melissa is grumbling as she pulls away from your side.

It takes another moment of you blinking sleep from your eyes to process. There's another round of banging at your front door, which must have been what woke you. Your bedroom is still dark, the only light seeping through being the light that radiates off the moon. Miraculously, the banging on the door hasn't woken up the girls, and you thank God for that. If they wake, you truly don’t know what you’d tell them.

It takes a heap of effort but you pull yourself from your bed to trail after your wife. You're just making it to the end of the hall to the living room when she's yanking open the front door in the midst of more knocking.

“Che cazzo fai?” Melissa spits as soon as the door is open. “It's not even five in the fuckin’ mornin’ and I got two kids sleepin’, what's wrong with you? Vai ai cacare!”

“Mrs. Schemmenti.”

You want to groan and bang your head into the wall when you hear Agent Shaw's voice. You're so tired. Somehow Agent Shaw sounds like he's had a full night of perfect rest. You can feel both you and your wife wearing thin. You know it's exactly what they want- to push you to the limit, force a mistake.

You trudge across the floor to stand behind Melissa. By now, your wife has deteriorated to rapid-fire Italian that you know is definitely only anger and insults. Agent Shaw is holding a packet of papers out that she hasn't taken in order to also be speaking with her hands. Usually, you would find her bigger than life and fiery personality and gestures adorable, but now you wish she would just take the papers. You reach past Melissa to take the papers from the agent who has blessed you with a home visit at 4:45 in the morning.

You sigh as you skim read the papers. You want to put your forehead to Melissa's shoulder even if it would jostle you with her gestures. It's a search warrant for her restaurant. You want to but you don't. You don't want Agent Shaw to see you in any more of a weaker state than you’re already showing him, half awake and absolutely exhausted after taking care of your girls. It’s not only a search warrant for Melissa's restaurant, but they're executing on a Friday- one of the busiest days for the business.

You put a hand on Melissa's shoulder in hopes of calming her down, even just slightly. With the amount that she’s cursing and shouting at this man, you’re afraid she’ll either pass out or wake up your girls. Neither option seems like a great one. But she's run out of words to spit at the agent still on your doorstep. The redhead takes a deep breath at the feel of your hand.

“Go,” you say, gathering by now that they need her to let them into the restaurant. “I'll call Sammy and tell him to meet you there. I'll make sure the girls get to school, okay?” you say softly. 

Your hand squeezes her shoulder. You make sure you kiss each of her cheeks before you kiss her lips properly. You hope the affection takes her anger down a notch or two, mostly for Agent Shaw's sake, truly. 

Reluctantly, Melissa is shoving on shoes and pulling a coat over her outfit from yesterday. You'd both been so tired you hadn't even bothered changing before all but crawling into bed. She grumbles about the fashion faux pas as she stomps down your porch to follow Agent Shaw to the car. 

You shut the front door only once you see the black car pull out of your driveway and down the street. Your forehead presses to the wood. “Fuck,” you whisper to no one but yourself. You force yourself to pull away from the front door and lock it once more.

It takes you a minute to track down where you left your phone. You struggle to remember little things of the last couple days. You rub your forehead as you listen to the ringing. Just as it's about to go to voice-mail you hear Sammy's groggy voice answer.

“They're searching Mel’s restaurant,” You sigh in place of pleasantries. “She just left with one of the agents to let them in.”

You don't even get the chance to ask Sammy to meet them there. He's saying he will before he hangs up without saying goodbye. If you were awake you'd have rolled your eyes at him. Except right now, you just appreciate his swift action and hope he can manage your wife and protect her for a few hours until you can get there after you drop the girls off.

You move back down the hall, barely able to lift your feet up from the carpet. You slip into the girls’ room, gently lifting them both from their beds. They don't wake up but curl into each of your shoulders. You carry them back to yours and Melissa's bed, curling up with your little twins like Melissa had the first night you'd been stuck at the station. Except you at least have the blessing of knowledge of where she is and what is wrong. Your eyes are so heavy though, you can't fight sleep even with the worry still filling you. 

tags: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @dvrkhcld

[xaeoism]

Muichiro helps you with small tasks when you're injured

"Done. Just remember not to do anything vigorous that may reopen the wound again", Shinobu said whilst finishing up on the bandaging of your hand. You looked at the clean new bandages that were neatly wrapped across your right hand and recalled the incident that had caused it to get injured in the first place - your sword broke in the middle of a fight with a demon and with no other weapons left to block its next attack, you put your hand in front of you and the demon's fangs sank straight through your flesh.

Great. Due to this injury, not only are you not able to train properly for a little more than a week but it would also hinder with your lifestyle and make simple tasks just so much more difficult than it should have been.

As you stepped into you and muichiro's shared estate you wondered if he was around to help you with some menial tasks but seeing as to how quiet the place was you assumed that he was out on another mission and decided to take a bath before making dinner for the two of you.

You stepped out of the shower feeling even more tired than you were when you went in due to the inability of your right hand. You then walked over to your dressing table and picked up the blow dryer to try and dry your hair before your shirt got drenched by it. As you turned the power for the dryer on, the dryer was gently taken from your hand.

Gentle teal eyes gazed into yours through the mirror as muichiro gathered some of your hair and started to help you blow them dry.

"I'll help you with that", he said, a small smile adorning his face.

"Ah muichiro you don't have to.."

"I want to.", he said firmly, locking eyes with you before his attention went back to your hair. You felt your cheeks starting to heat up as you stared at him combing through your hair with such gentility as though if he put too much pressure you'll break.

He noticed your staring but made no comments on it. He was too focused on the fragrance that your shampoo had left on your hair. After a few minutes, he combed through your hair for another time to make sure that your hair was no longer wet before placing the dryer on the table and turning the power off.

"Hey, I'm done", he said placing his hands on your shoulders.

This caused you to snap out of your daze; how long have you been staring?

"Thanks mui I really appreciate it", you replied, grabbing a rubber band before turning to him and flashing him a smile that made him feel warm inside. He looked at the band in your hand and took it from your hand again.

"Mui you have to stop doing that, and anyways I am more than capable of tying my hair up by myself. Its not even going to put any stress on my hand.", you groaned as you got up and tried to snatch the band back from his hand

"You are injured and I want you to get better as quickly as possible. So until then, I will help you with these small tasks whether you like it or not."

You sighed knowing there was no changing his mind due to how stubborn he was and sat back down.

"Do you even know how to tie another person's hair?", you questioned, trying to remember any instances where you have seen muichiro holding or using a hairband.

"I have not used one before.. but it cant be too hard"

He collected all your hair and bundled it together before using the band to hold it in place. You watched in amusement as his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Slaying demons are easier than this.. ", he mumbled to himself.

After he was done, you looked at your bun. Although it was very messy and had untied hair strewn about everywhere, the effort that he put in was evident and that made your heart flutter.

"Thank you mui. I'll cook dinner now to thank you for all the hard work you have done today hm?", you said while giving him a kiss on his cheek before dragging him out of the room towards the dining area. However he continued to follow you into the kitchen.

"I want to hel- "

"No mui. You have done more than enough for me today and I want to make this dinner to thank you for everything", you interrupted trying to make your stand clear by raising your tone.

"I must be a demon if I let the one I love do something like this by themself when they are injured, so no, we will make this dinner together", muichiro said gently grasping your hands while looking at you with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. You couldn't find it in yourself to say no once more and sighed.

"Okay, let's start before you get your next mission"

[akutasoda]

i can stay, if you want? part 2

synopsis - after particular warm nights, you decide to shed some clothing - how do they react?

includes - dazai, nikolai

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, reader is mentioned to be shirtless, wc - 761

a/n: this was requested by @lazarokimaar

osamu dazai ★↷

the agency accomodations were pretty basic but they still did their job and, if the owner bothered, were rather clean. but unfortunately dazai wasn't really in a rush to take care of himself properly let alone his residence. so it was no surprise that the already bad ventilation was made worse.

but that did little to bother dazai. he rarely slept a whole night anyway. but ever since you proposed living together, he actually bothered to tidy up - to some extent. to the extent of hiding bottles of sake and tins of crab and bothering to clean.

but no amount of cleaning could change how much more humid and warm it would become during warmer weather. and it wasn't really helped that dazai became rather clingy when you were directly next to him.

you had woken up due to being too warm and even though you were desperate too cool down but dazai had finally managed to fall asleep and was practically glued to you back. you didn't really have a solution at that point to cooling down seeing as dazai had already hogged the blankets.

however when you came up with the solution of shedding some clothes and shuffled around to be able to take your top off, dazai woke up. and now seeing as he was awake you saw no problem in tearing him off you. he looked at you with some confusion.

he was going to ask what you were doing but his question was quickly answered as you shrugged your top off and over your head. and you'd spent long enough with dazai to know what he was going to day affter you took your top off but you quickly silenced him by explaining it was too warm.

and as you laid back down you were confused as to why a pair of bandaged arms didn't immediately wrap themselves around your mid section. so you turned you head to face him and ask if there was an issue.

normally you would expect dazai to care little of your state of undress and act as normal but he faced a lottle bit of inner conflict. he didn't want to cross any boundaries with you, fearing that if he did so he'd push you away and lose you.

but from your question he nodded and just said he was 'admiring the view' before he placed his arms around ypur mid section and placed his head in the crook of your neck. and now if anything he was a little dumbfounded. how could someone as great as you trust him this much. but he didn't want to dally on that as for the moment he wanted just to hold you in his embrace.

nikolai gogol ★↷

seeing as nikolai hadn't been in yokohama that long, he didn't really have much of a place to actually stay. normally just cramping in on his colleagues. and when he met you after a while he started thinking - what would be even better than moving in with the person he loved most.

he adored your space no matter how big or small it was. but unfortunately it also became the victim to an unfortunate increase in warm weather. warm enough that any ventilation or fans because rendered rather useless.

even if you stripped away all your bedding, sheets and whatever else you would normally have it didn't seem to work.

mainly because nikolai was rather clingy sometimes, that or he had absolutely no personal space awareness. either way he only added to the rather intense heat. and if you were going to fix this you would have to start by prying yourself out of his grip.

and once you did, you took of the layers necessary to cool down before slipping back into bed. and almost immediately nikolai gripped back on to you proving your efforts to cool down to be rather useless but atleast it was a start.

after a while, nikolai had woken up while you were just trying to get back to sleep. he noticed your wardrobe change rather immediately and began teasing you. and in your half asleep state you still managed to elbow him. to which he stopped.

but then he became very acutely aware of the situation and hesitated for a moment until you gave him a rather sleepy nod of reassurance that you were still fine with him cuddling you. to which he took and happily retook his place beside you. and yet he still teased you in the morning about it.

[reds-writings]

Ooo any grump/sunshine day to day with old man Rust!!! Maybe fluff prompt pt.2 #3 or #6!

You’re writings for Rust are incredible please never stop! <3

i mostly combined 3 and 6 with this ask and went with something kinda new?? this features a nurse!reader with a bit of an age gap taking place but nothing crazy. i love the sunshine/grumpy trope so i hope you enjoy!! (also I'm trying out using a placeholder nickname for the reader so i don't have to use y/n as much so pls let me know if y'all enjoy that at all)

When Marty first sprung the idea of a temporary at-home caretaker on Rust the man had half the mind to think the blonde was just being a tremendous chain-yanking shit. But his friend was dead serious and it was less of a ‘think on it’ idea and more of a ‘I got Maggie to pull some strings and a nurse will be coming in next week’ idea. No matter how much Rust reared and protested Marty insisted that he have someone to keep an eye on him since Marty couldn’t be his personal maid for much longer given that it had already been a couple of weeks since their hospital visit courtesy of that fucker Childress. 

Rust didn’t want a damned nurse. He wasn’t some pathetic geriatric fuck in desperate need of some lousy assistance. Sure, anytime he moved too much or stood for too long he felt like he’d pass out from the pain of the wound that nearly took up his whole abdomen but that didn’t mean jack shit. Marty brushed off any complaints without so much a blink and kept reassuring that it’d do the grump some good to have company other than himself or the neverending onslaught of his usual doomsday-esque thoughts. The day you showed up at Marty’s door bright and early on a Monday morning with a smile too genuine for Rust to fully comprehend, you were not at all what he was expecting. 

Not that he really had any expectations to begin with. Maybe that you’d be older. More seasoned. Not nearly 10 years or so his junior. Certainly not possessing such a radiantly pleasant disposition that no one else seemed to harbor anywhere around these parts. He wasn’t above immediately clocking the beauty you exuded but eyeing younger women was more of Marty’s MO than his own. 

You seemed untouched by the vast ugliness of what the world fostered. There weren’t many moments where you didn’t have a look of general felicity painted on the soft planes of your face. It was a habit of yours to wear brightly patterned or colored scrubs that he, at first, deemed a semi-loathsome eyesore (which then eventually grew on him). An array of silly patches and pins allowed on your work bag full of the necessities you slung along for the day’s endeavors with him. Kitschy socks you kept as a hidden surprise within the confines of your clogs that you’d show to him even if he never gave the inclination that he cared about something so trivial. Your unmoving cheeriness translated to a certain form of naivety that had something ugly burning beneath the prison of his ribs. At first, he thought he just felt this brand of annoyance towards a preconceived notion of cluelessness you carried but over time it found itself melting away into a subconscious need to shelter you from the horrors of earth. 

It took plenty of time to chip away at that impossible exterior of his but with your incessant refusal to let his initial gruffness and straight-up disregard of your presence deter you he had no choice but to give in to your efforts of friendly engagement.

Given that there wasn’t much to do for him care-wise besides keep his wounds clean, change bandages, make sure he didn’t collapse, and keep up with any meds he was prescribed post-hospital stay you took on the role of making the passing days a little more interesting than they’d usually be if he were by his lonesome. You’d find little non-exertive exercises to do in the afternoon to keep his muscles from getting too weak. Drag him along to the grocery store to shop so that you could try out some new recipes you saved online. You were steadfast in making g sure he wasn’t just surviving off the cigarettes and beer he’d stubbornly sneak behind your back. You also made it a goal to keep up with trimming that bristly mustache of his and making sure his hair didn't get too unruly. You’ve gone as far as to bug him about letting you practice your braiding skills so that you could fulfill your niece’s creative hairstyle wishes but no dice. One day you’d wear him down enough into agreeance. That was becoming easier, though, wearing him down for just about anything. One look at those doe-ish eyes and the battle he was prepared to fight had already been lost. Rust had a feeling you were more clever than anyone probably gave you credit for but there was no use in acknowledging that your stare was having an increasingly strengthened hold on him. 

To say Marty was absolutely tickled by the noticeable change in his friend’s demeanor throughout this new development was an understatement. It was about time there was something Rust somewhat enjoyed besides stewing over the point of humanity’s existence or yapping on about unsavory ideas involving shit like damnation. It didn’t take long for your attitude and delightful qualities to earn you the nickname Sunny. Marty deemed it exceedingly fitting and even Rust found himself playing into it much to everyone’s surprise. Hearing it from him had a splendid giddiness sparking throughout your system more than you’d like to admit. 

Today you’d driven him out near the water where you both could sit and read for a while. You always stressed the importance of fresh air doing him some good and he never complained. If it meant getting him out of Marty’s bachelor pad here and there he’d let you drag him anywhere as far as Timbuktu. As chatty as you could be, you stayed mindful of any moment of solitude he may require during these daily visits. Sometimes it was nice to just exist and absorb the ambiance the outside world had to offer in each other’s presence and for that he was grateful. 

“You’re starting to walk better on your own, Rusty.” You broke the bubble of serenity, looking up from your book –some light read of a romance– to fix him with a small smile that quirked the corner of your lips. The sun’s fading light drenched your figure in the hues of impending dusk and some nagging part of him found it to be an effortlessly alluring sight despite its simplicity. You’d have to be calling it a night soon but what was a few more stolen moments in each other's company? 

“Yeah, s’gettin’ a bit easier I suppose. Soon enough I’ll be back to mostly functional as opposed to some lame cripple.” He replied in dry amusement, dog-earing the page he was on to bring his full attention to you. Marty often gave him flack for his outgrown hippie look but it added some sort of rugged appeal in your opinion. Not that you’d ever find the courage to forgo any sense of professionalism by making your whims involving Rust Cohle known. But as he looked at you now with weathered blue you couldn’t help but give in to the ideas of something beyond this current format of companionship. 

“Cripple is a bit of an exaggeration. You’ll be up and at em’ before you know it. Though it sucks I won’t be of much use no more.” There was a twinge of sadness in your voice and he hated the frailty of it.  

“Ah…don’t worry, Sunny. There’ll be some other helpless old soul who’ll need you around.” 

“That’d imply you’re just some helpless old fart in the throng of said souls. Which you’re not. Plus, none have ever entertained me as you do.” You chirped in that playful matter-of-fact way you often do. 

“Entertainin’. Hm. That’s new.” He shook his head before looking out toward the water. 

“Even if your physical health will no longer be of issue I’ll make it my new mission to spruce up that self-deprecating brain of yours. Not that I’m necessarily trained within the realm of mental health but I can youtube it or something. I have my ways.” You wiggled your fingers in jest as if casting a spell. In truth, it was as if you already had when you came around all those weeks ago. 

“Can’t get rid of you that easily I’m guessin’.” He shot back in a lousy attempt at a joke. Whether you could read his poorly hidden desire to keep you around or not, he couldn’t tell.

“You know by now I’m like a leech. A cute, fun leech! It’ll take a lot to get rid of me for good,” You paused with a bout of slight insecurity, “unless you don’t want me around to bother you longer. I know I can be a bit much sometimes-”

“You can stick around, Sunny. Can’t have Marty as my only friend. That’d be plain sad.” He was playing it off cool, unaware of the barrage of butterflies he had set off in your chest with that simple statement. 

“I might have to alert the masses now that you consider me a friend. This is by no means a small feat– wait does this mean I can practice my braiding finally?! My niece is getting antsy and I-”

“Don’t push your luck.” He had to look away from the blinding beam of your cheek-splitting smile as he moved to stand up. Without fail, you rushed to his side to place your dainty hand into his so that you could help. The small action sent lightning down the length of his spine. The warmth of your joking jabs about your newfound title of friendship encased his whole being. He couldn’t help but think back on the conversation he’d had with Marty outside of the hospital, about light versus dark. Perhaps you manifesting into his orbit was another indicator that the light just might actually be winning. 

[dino-fart]

Hi! Could you do something with Joel Miller please? I was thinking an enemies to lovers and it could be during the fifth episode where Joel’s sniping and trying to protect reader and the group. Kinda angsty but fluffy?

Certainly!

You didn’t like Joel Miller one bit. You were wary of him, his whole demeanor. The girl he was with told you, Henry and Sam that’s just how he is. His ‘asshole voice’ as she called it. You weren’t convinced. 

Still you found yourself walking with the group on the empty road. You hated to admit it but...Joel’s pessimistic behavior was necessary. Henry was being too eager about making it out of the tunnels. Sure enough, bullets were being fired toward you all. 

You were with Henry, Sam and Ellie hiding behind the car for cover while Joel made his way to the house. A few moments later the shooting stopped and you all began to walk to the house. “RUN!!!” You heard Joel shout and the bright headlights from the tanks made the four of you run for cover again. You reached over your shoulders to pull your axes from the covers. You gripped the handles, preparing to attack the enemy when Henry grabbed your arm. 

“I’m going to give myself up. Then you take Sam and Ellie to Joel. It’s the only way.” Henry said sadly. 

“Henry, if you think for a minute that Kathleen is going to not shoot us down, you’re out of your mind. The only way out of this is a fight.” You said firmly. 

The ground began to shake and you peered over to see the horde of infected charging toward the armed group. The four of you made a run for it, getting separated in the process. You dodged the infected and turned around and plunge your axes in two of them at once. You pulled your weapons out and threw your axe toward a clicker that was chasing Ellie. You were about to throw your other axe when you saw the Bloater coming. 

“Fuck!!” You screamed and made a run for it. You had only encountered a bloater once and knew it took a lot to kill it. It wasn’t worth the effort when you had three people to get to safety. An infected pinned you down and you used the handle of your axe to shove in its’ mouth to stop it from biting you. You gasped when three bullets shot into its’ head and the infected fell over. 

You got up quickly and looked behind you at the house. You watched shots being fired at the infected. Joel. Joel was up there giving you all a fighting chance. You couldn’t waste that. You turned to your left to see Ellie plunging a knife into a clicker that was attacking Sam. 

“I’m just here to check on you.” You heard Joel say and saw him walk into the bathroom. 

You ran over to plunge your axe in the other clicker. The four of you ran for the house finally and made it to Joel after Kathleen was quickly eaten by a child clicker. The five of you made a run for it to a deserted motel and took shelter there.

-----

You made your way to the bathroom of one of bedrooms and began cleaning the cuts and scrapes off your face. You winced in pain and heard the door open. 

“I’m fine.” You said looking over at him. 

Joel gently cupped your chin and pressed the cool towel to your right cheek. “No bites, right?” Joel asked. 

“No bites, I checked before you came in.” You nodded. 

Joel nodded and set the towel down, “You need a bandage, otherwise that cut’s gonna bleed everywhere.” 

You handed him the small size gauze and medical tape. “Joel...” You began to say. 

“Hm?” 

“Thanks. I mean I know it was because Ellie was there-” 

“Darlin’...” 

“And Henry was there.” 

“Darlin’.” 

“And Sam too.” 

“Are you going to stop for goddamn minute?” Joel gruffed and finished putting the gauze on your cheek. 

You looked up at him and met his gaze. 

“First of all...As much as we don’t like each other...I can count on you. And it paid off because you saved Ellie. That girl didn’t shut up about how ‘cool’ your axe throwing was. So she’s okay because of you.” Joel’s fingers gently moved to stroke your other cheek and he felt himself leaning closer to you. “And second...How in the hell could I live with myself for lettin’ you die? Someone so goddamn beautiful and strong?” Joel whispered softly and gently pressed his lips against your cheek. 

You closed your eyes at the kiss, “Joel...Didn’t expect you to have a soft side.” 

“Now don’t go tellin’ everyone, ya hear?” Joel whispered in your ear. 

“Yes sir.” You turned your head to capture his lips in a slow kiss. 

Joel cradled your cheek as he returned the affection. He pulled back slowly and stroked your hair back. “Henry’s makin’ some soup, and I know you must be starvin’. Come on.” Joel gestured to the door.

Tagging: @leonkennedyslefthand, @stewardofningishzida, @icytrickster17, @onlinecemetery, @marki-moo0, @absolute-not-original, @creamecafe, @scrubb, @nightingal3-tales, @alliethedaydreamer, @strangesthirdeye, @deliciousfestsalad, @alex-33, @zombiedixon89, @sunnsettee, @kiaradaniell, @freyafriggafrey, @criticalroleobssedperson, @avengersfan25, @lunamoonbby, @androgynouspersonapricotfan, @foxcantswim, @namorkawaiiwife, @starkiller-queen, @kyuupidwrites, @luciamajer, @renatas10, @ayamenimthiriel, @gaiagurl05, @dipsylou, @pinkthick, @hansai, @andywinter16, @iambored24601, @3-cheese-tortellini, @cumbrbatchbenedict

[bumpkinspice0]

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: explicit (MINORS DNI!!!!!)

Word Count: 5285

Summary: There's a massive breach to Spider Tower, Miguel needs the help of the entire spiderverse to contain it.

Warnings:  Previous traumatic accident (Wound and pain from such but nothing too descriptive), I don't know how healing works it's the future shut up, angst, pining, protective!Miguel SMUT! Sexy shower time, fingering, praise kink, kinda body worship, Miguel takes GOOD care of you, don't look at me

A/N: Sorry this took longer to update than usual, life really started lifin' there. Also I didn't know how to write the shift in relationship dynamic good so you'll gotta deal with that too. ENJOY

Previous. Next

Series Masterlist

AO3

_______________

Chapter 10

Let Me Take Care of You

You drift lazily on the waves of consciousness for what felt like hours, your eye’s only forming blurry images as you attempt to force yourself to wake up. The smell is the first thing you notice. Fresh, clean linens and something else you recognize but can’t put your finger on. It wasn’t quite sterile , like a hospital, but not completely welcoming like a home either. When you finally burst fully from the veil of sleep, it’s a room you’ve never seen before. Smooth and sleek futuristic architecture like the tower. All accented in crisp white and grays, almost no color— but it’s not a hospital room like you suspected. You’d been to the infirmary in the tower a handful of times, and this wasn’t it

It takes all your effort to simply turn your head to the side, and there on the nightstand is your answer. A framed photograph of Miguel and Gabe. They look younger than you know them. Maybe ten years ago. This was his room.

You were in Miguel's house.

You take another deep breath, bringing the sheets to your nose and finally recognize his scent amongst the clean white linens— like rich red wine. The smell of Miguel. 

Why on earth were you here? You move to roll out of the massive bed, but a sharp pain in your side stops you. And in your shoulder— and your head— pretty much all of you. 

You look down at your hands for the first time and see several bandages scattered up your arms. You had a particularly big one you recognized on your hand— you’d had an IV in at some point. Your clunky multiverse watch had been replaced with a day pass. Your suit had been replace with a cotton tee and shorts.

Ever so slowly you come up to a seated position. The worst pain was coming from your right side. You lift your plain gray cotton shirt to reveal more bandages wrapped around your abdomen and several ugly purple bruises peeking out from beneath. 

“What the hell happened?” you whisper to yourself.

“You got blown up,” a familiar cheeky voice informs you. Lyla materializes at the end of the bed. She’s not a small little hovering woman though. She’s a full-sized person. You never seen her appear larger than a soda can and now she looked like you could practically touch her. “Well, the nanotech took most of the blow. You’re lucky.”

“Nanotech? The suit?” You run your hand over your face, feeling a few other bandaids taped down. One on your eyebrow and another on the cheek. Was there any part of you that wasn’t hurt?

You squeeze your eye’s shut trying to recall anything. There was a fight— I big one. You were called into the tower. It was a blur but you know you made it out. You remember laughing with Jess and Gwen afterward. You’d won. You even found Miguel afterward and he told you to… ah, there it was. Some freak explosion from the rubble by his room. Wrong place at the wrong time. This was gonna be embarrassing to come back from.

Any normal person would be in shock right now. You hadn’t been a normal person for nearly a decade. If you had a dime for every near-death experience you’d had since starting this job, you’d be able to buy the entirety of New York City. This wasn’t your first time waking up bruised and battered and it certainly won’t be the last.  

All in all, not the worst you’d been banged up on the job, but still not great it landed you bedridden for god knows how long. You felt sluggish and tired but knew if you didn’t try to move around at least a little, you’d regret it later. Get the blood pumping, that always helped.

You’d really been in this situation too many times.

You slowly move the edge of the bed again. Lyla glitches in front of you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, where do you think you’re going?” She places her hands on her hips. 

“To get some water. I’m thirsty,” You shakily stand and walk right through her pixelated form. Your legs might as well be jello but you make it work. 

“This is a fully automated house!” She forms back in front of you when you're just at the door, “I’ll get you the water.”

“I’m a big girl, I can get my own drink,” You sigh and walk/ limp through her again.

“Oh! You just wanna snoop!” she accuses.

Ah, she got you. Yeah, you wanted to move a little, yes, but this was a rare opportunity you weren’t going to pass up. You were in his house. His house! Alone!

“And so what if I do?”

She raises her hands in defeat. “Hey, I’m not stopping ya then.” 

You slide the foggy glass door out of the way and leave Miguel’s bedroom. You walk out onto a lofted balcony overlooking the rest of his home. It matched the bedroom with its sleek white glossy and gray tones— and it was massive. Twenty-foot ceilings, Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, overlooking the city. Wherever you were, you were very high up. A modest living room sat in the center with sleek charcoal furniture. The floors were a glossy deep black. The second-floor balcony lined the entirety of the living space, with several doors and hallways leading to other parts of the house along its path. You make your way across the second level and down the sleek glass stairs— gripping the railing for dear life. 

“How long was I out?” You ask Lyla, noticing the weakness in your legs again.

“Three days,” She answers, glitching to the bottom of the stairs. “You were in the infirmary until the swelling went down then the big guy brought you here.”

“What swelling?” You ask, almost afraid of the answer.

“In your brain. Minor. Should be fine now with all the drugs and advanced healing,” She says so nonchalantly it almost puts you at ease— almost.

Sounds like you had a concussion. Awesome. That explains the pulsing headache that was on the rise and your less-than-stellar vision. Your advanced healing can only do so much. You have brain fog to look forward to for the next 2 weeks. Even more awesome, “Might wanna take a week off after this.”

You made it to the bottom floor, spotting the kitchen underneath the stairs. It was sleek and clean like the rest of the house.

“Me? Take a week off? Nah, I’m unstoppable.” You joke as you round the kitchen island with the speed of a tortoise. A cabinet automatically opens for you, revealing the glasses. You grab one and fill it up at the sink. You chug the liquid down in a very unladylike way, immediately refilling the glass. Damn, you were actually extremely thirsty.

“Miggy’s gonna force you to take a month off with the way he’s been hovering over you.”

Your cheeks instantly heat up at her casual statement. She takes notice, a smirk pulling at her pixelated mouth. 

“Where is Miguel?” You ask sheepishly. 

“Called into the tower,” she casually glances down at her nails, “Had to go do something only he could do , I don’t know. He’s been at your bedside every day and night. He’s gonna be pissed when he gets back to see you finally awake when he wasn’t here. In fact, you should get back to bed.”

“How long ‘til he’s back?” You ask, completely disregarding her suggestion.

“No idea,” She shrugs, her expression still smug. She was having fun seeing your schoolgirl crush. Lyla knew everything from the beginning. She knew all the rules of the agreement too. Miguel brought you to his home. You’d slept in his bed. You’d stayed in this dimension well past the 48-hour limit. He was breaking rules for you— Miguel didn’t break rules.

You take your water and head to the massive windows. There was a large balcony just beyond the apartment. Lyla, seemingly reading your mind, opened the door for you— well not exactly a door. A rectangle of glass dissipates right next to you, leading outside. Guess they don’t do doors the same way in 2099. 

The air is fresher than you expected for a city balcony, you attribute it to being so high up. This view was easily head and shoulders above any of the surrounding buildings. It was cold and a little windy, but it felt nice on your arching, bedridden body. 

The view was spectacular. You’d been to Nueva York dozens of times before, technically, but you spent all your time in spider tower. You’d caught glimpses of the city, of course, but you never really took the time to appreciate it. 

New York in 2099. A futuristic version of your home. It looked nothing like your New York. Everything was so sleek and rounded— taller than your world's cities. There are a few things you can recognize from this height. The green of Central Park is still cut out in the center of the towering Skyscrapers. You’re in Manhattan, not far from the park. The rivers converging around the islands— okay maybe you only recognize a few things. The buildings and streets you know were likely engulfed amongst the behemoth futuristic towers that now make up this New York.

No, this wasn’t your New York. This was Nueva York, and it was incredible. 

“Lyla,” You ask and she automatically blips to your side, “Where are we? Like, where is his apartment?”

“You’re still in the tower,” She confirms, “The penthouse suite.”

She confirms your suspicions. You may not have seen much of the city, but you were certain Spider Tower was one of the tallest buildings in it.

Miguel lived and worked here. You wonder if he ever left the grounds in anything other than a portal. Did he have friends? Did he like to go out to dinner? What silly little life did he live outside of being Spider-Man? You suspect he doesn’t have one. You want to ask Lyla but you feel like you’ve already invaded enough of his personal life simply by being here. Then again… he apparently brought you here.

“Why am I here, Lyla?”

She raises her eyebrows over lidded, unamused eyes, “Do you really need an advanced AI to tell you that, girl?”

You don’t, but you also don’t want to dwell on the deeper implications of this unholy shit show. 

“What do you think of… this? Of us?”

“Try being a little less vague if you can.” The AI rolls her eyes. 

“Fair enough.” you mull over your next words, “But just… why would Miguel bring me here? He’s broken almost every rule.”

“Ya know, it amazes me how dense you humans can be,” She leans against the railing next to you, “Before you came along, Gabe and I were his only close friends. Though, I’m not sure I count.”

“You count.” You inform her immediately. 

“Well, thank you,” Some comical blush circles pop up on her face and disappear in an instant, “Miguel cares a lot, despite trying to make people think he’s made of stone. You’re the only other person that’s… been in his life this way. He looks out for his own. Something bad happened to you— and he got scared. And he took control like he always does. Humans aren't always rational. That’s something you all need to accept.”

For a programmed interface, she was a really good therapist. It was all things you already knew but just didn’t want to admit to. You were just human. Miguel cared. You both cared— and that made everything more complicated. 

“Was he really with me the whole time?” You ask Lyla, suddenly feeling like a tween gushing over a crush again.

She peeks her eyes over her obnoxious heart-shaped glasses and rolls her head to the side, “Why don’t you ask him yourself.” and in a flash, she’s gone.

As soon as she vanishes, you feel the spider-sense ring in your head, and butterflies instantly rise in your stomach. You turn around to see Miguel standing at the door, still in his spider suit with an almost heartbreaking look on his face.

“What are you doing out here?” it takes him only four long strides to stand at your side, “Lyla shouldn’t have let you out of bed.”

“To Lyla’s credit, she did try,” You smile at him. He doesn’t smile back, worry painted over his features.

“Stubborn woman.” He reaches out to you but quickly pauses his movements as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. “Please, come back inside. It’s freezing out here.”

You nod and head back towards the door. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how slow and awkward your walking is. He slowly walks at your side the whole time, hovering a hand behind you as if you’ll fall at any second. You catch a glimpse of your full body in the reflection of the windows and you can see why he’s so cautious around you. You looked like a minefield of bandages and bruises. It was jarring to see all at once. 

The door closes behind you with a sleek ring as the glass reforms in an instant. You’ll never get used to that. 

Miguel’s in front of you again, ghosting his hands over your body, “I can’t believe you’re up and walking. How are you feeling? How’s your vision? They stopped the internal bleeding right away but there still might be—”

He shuts up when he meets your eyes. His were wide but still soft somehow. Caring in a way you hadn’t seen before— deep, lustful red eyes.

“Hi,” you simply say.

“Hi,” he responds with the faintest of smiles. You’d seen his face flash through a series of emotions since he saw you, but he seems to have finally settled on relief. 

“I… Like your house.”

“Uh, Thanks,” He stands up straight again, scratching the back of his head, “Will you— I need to— Can you just sit in the living room for me?”

“Um, sure, yeah,” you make your way to the living room just in front of you, he hovers next to you the entire way. He helps you to a seated position on the couch. You swear he holds himself back from fluffing the pillows too. 

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect you to be–” He slowly sits down next to you, taking a deep breath. Shouldn’t you be the one freaking out? Today, apparently not,  “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” You say with slightly forced cheerfulness, “I mean… good considering…” you look down at the bandages scattering your body.

His gaze drops away from yours, “Yeah.”

You weren’t lying. Sure, you were achy and groggy with some bad scrapes and bruises, but overall… not bad. You’d likely experienced a critical accident just days ago. Even with advanced healing, you shouldn’t be as chipper as you are.

“I mean… how am I feeling this good ?” You ask, simultaneously questioning yourself and Miguel. “Lyla said it’s only been 3 days.”

“Four days now.” Miguel’s eyes shoot back to yours, “Partially because of your suit. The nanotech acted as a shield for the most part, preventing any burns and such. You’re also in the twenty-second century with access to the multiverse. We can heal anything.”

That’s… a fair point. Well, future medicine fucking rocked.

He scoots closer to you, reaching out his hand toward your wrist. He pauses, waiting for your permission and you simply place your arm in his hand. 

“For example. Here…” He gently runs his thumb along a faint silvery line on your forearm, “You had stitches. I removed them this morning. The rest of these,” He runs a thumb over one of your bandages, “Are cautionary until this evening.”

“That’s amazing,” You look down at your other arm with scattered marks and bandages. Just a matter of hours and you’d be back to normal—for the most part. Like nothing ever happened at all. 

“Still,” Miguel’s gaze drops again, “I don’t change the fact that you shouldn’t have been—”

“Don’t,” You cut him off, already knowing where this is going. “Shit happens. Shit always just happens with this job. I’m a big girl, I’ve been through this before. If you turn my freak accident into self-loathing man pain I’m gonna fucking kick your ass, O’Hara.”

You don’t want to focus on the gravity of it all. You don’t want some protective speech, you don’t want assurances that everything will be okay when you know it will be. His actions have spoken louder than his words ever could. You just… want him to stop looking at you like that— Like you’re helpless.

He says nothing. Shock briefly pulls at his stern features until he settles into a smile. You smile back. 

“You’re probably hungry.” He says. 

Right on cue, your stomach growls like a beast and you’re suddenly fully aware of the aching hollowness inside you. 

“Starving.”

____________

Thank god Thai food still tasted the same in the future. You made the request and Lyla had it delivered in less than thirty minutes. It was Miguel’s favorite place in the city, apparently. He had a favorite restaurant, just more proof to you that he wasn’t completely a workaholic robot. There was a regular human underneath that rugged persona, just like you’d always suspected. 

You heartily enjoy a red curry and a few dumplings, Miguel has some noodle dish he sets aside for later. 

As you finish your meal Miguel returns with a kit of medical supplies, graciously asking if he could check your progress. You agree, not turning away from your dinner for a second. He scans your body with a small tool you’d never seen before.  

“Inflammation down 20 percent, vitals normal, advanced healing progressing as expected,” Lyla’s ambient voice announces, “She’s doing great, despite not listening.”

“I’m a rebel, what can I say,” you chuckle lightly. The scan finishes and several small projections hover around Miguel. 

“Okay, yeah, this is all good. Really good,” He says, reading over the results. He’d changed out of his suit, opting for a loose pair of sweats and a shirt with a band you don’t recognize. Strangely enough, he looked more attractive in normal clothes than in a skintight suit. He was comfortable. He wasn’t Spider-Man or a leader he was just— Miguel. You liked just Miguel.

He rummages around back in the kit and pulls out a syringe with pale blue liquid. 

Oh hell no.

“What’s that?” You ask with apprehension. 

“Painkiller and something that’ll speed up your healing,” He scoots closer to you at the dinner table, “This is your last round of it.”

“I don’t think—”

He jabs it into your shoulder before you can properly protest. Despite the pain from the needle, you swear you can feel relief instantly once it’s injected. 

“Ouch.” You grumble, taking the last bite of your rich curry.

“Oh, do you need a lollipop?” he tuts, packing away the kit— infuriating man.

“No, but maybe something else to suck on,” You joke. His cheeks flush in an instant. Victory. “Actually what I’d like most is a shower,” you admit. 

After four days of stewing motionless in a bed, you can practically smell yourself— which means Miguel could definitely smell you. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re still a fainting risk and I don’t want to leave you—”

“Okay, then come with me.” You counter instantly. His protective nature is not going to keep you from a hot shower. And well… It felt nice to have him close. 

 He pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. His cheeks are still faintly red, “I mean, I guess I—”

“Great,” You stand and make your way to the stairs, “Let’s go.”

You pause at the foot of the stairs, remembering what a slow challenge they were earlier. Sure, you were feeling better than earlier— you’d had a meal and whatever was in that needle was fucking magic— but your legs still felt like compacted jelly.

Before you can take the first step you feel Miguel behind you, his hands caressing down the back of your legs and up your back. He gently scoops you into his arms with ease and strides up the steps without missing a beat. Your spider-sense sighs in gratitude.

“Sure. Let’s go.” He grins, glancing down at you. 

He walks you both back through his bedroom and into the master bath. A sleek glossy room that matched the rest of the penthouse, every inch of it covered in black marble. The massive shower was on your left and the counter with a ceiling-height mirror was to your right. He seats you on the counter next to the sink. The rainfall shower starts up behind him. 

“Okay, let’s get these off you,” he says as he kneels down and gently pulls off one of the bandages from your leg. The flesh underneath is practically healed. You start to remove the ones from your arms, grazing your fingers over the already faint pink marks underneath them. Some were faint scabs and cuts, others were almost entirely healed over. Just four days and this is what was left.

He stands, finished with your legs. He grabs the hem of your shirt and gingerly pulls it off of you. All that remained was the bandages wrapping your abdomen. He slowly starts to unroll them. You wince slightly. He pauses but you nod for him to continue. This was the worst area. The bruises you saw peaking out earlier were already fading away from their previous deep purple. A faint wound still remained on your left side, red tendrils from it reaching over your stomach. You notice small pricks lining the larger portions of the wound. You’d had stitches here too— and now it looked like it’d been healing for weeks.

You shake your head, not wanting to stare at the damage any longer. Later. You’d think about it all later. You had a beautiful man and a shower that were calling your name. 

You slide off the counter and pull at the hem of Miguel's shirt. He leans down and you pull it off his body, revealing that gorgeous toned torso. He runs his fingers along the elastic of your shorts and shimmies them off your hips. You do the same with his sweats. A silent ballet you both were deeply familiar with at this point. He cradles your hands as he guides you both backward into the waiting shower.

The steaming water feels like heaven as soon as it hits your body, the rainfall drenching you both in an instant. Your sore limbs instantly feel relief. Your buzzing mind was put at ease. All the anxieties of the day melted away and spiraled down the drain. 

You pause there, just letting the sensation consume you. Time slows down and the crackling sound of water hitting stone fades away. You feel like you can properly think for the first time since you woke up hours ago— and it all hits you at once. 

You fought. You almost died— and Miguel saved you. If he wasn’t right there when it happened, who knows what would have happened to you. You wouldn’t be here in his house, that’s for sure. He’d stayed by your side, he exhausted every resource to heal you. And he was still by your side right now. 

He looks out for his own. Something bad happened to you— and he got scared.

Lyla’s words from earlier echo in your head. He was scared to lose you. You were scared to ever lose him. Not just as a fellow spider but as… something more maybe. You’d felt the feelings pulling at you when you hunted him down in the multiverse those weeks ago. Terrified you’d find him injured or even dead. It was more than a spider-sense. More than this forced proximity you’d both had… well, it wasn’t so forced anymore, was it.

You feel your weakened legs start to wobble and Miguel's hands are instantly on you, pulling you close to him. 

“Easy, arañita,” he coos ever so softly.

You look up at him, watching the water cascade over his stern face. His fluffy hair was now drenched down over his forehead. Those crimson eyes filled with concern. 

You sigh and rest your head on his chest. “Thank you… for everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” He runs a hand over your head and down your back. “Consider us even for saving me… if that helps.”

And there it is, the Miguel you knew. Trying to step away from the gravity of the situation. From feelings becoming too real. This was all supposed to be temporary after all, maybe you should take a page from his book.

Still, you were both here in each other's arms— and that meant something.

“ Déjame cuidarte .” He says just above a whisper. 

Miguel trails his hands down your arms, his touch somehow hotter than the water. You close your eyes at the combined sensation. You feel him reach overhead, grabbing something. His hands come back to you, now trailing through your hair. You feel a foamy lather as he does so and the faint smell of flowers hits your nose. 

Miguel was washing your hair. 

His fingers move slowly and with purpose as they crawl along your scalp. This wasn’t about getting you clean, this was about making you feel good. He was trying to comfort you. To make you forget about… well, everything. 

You melt into him, trailing your hands along his stomach. One of his hands trails down your back while the other works the shampoo through your hair. He holds you close. He takes care of you.

He leans your head to the side, the soap rinsing from your hair. He walks you both further into the stream of water and turns you around. Your back is flush with his torso as his hands ever so gently trail over your healing body. 

You feel suds foaming from his touch. When had he grabbed that soap? You decide you don’t really care. 

He leans down, lips caressing your temples. “Do you feel good, little spider?”

“Yes,” You sigh.

“Do you want to feel better?” you feel one of his hands trail down your stomach and gently ghost over your waiting cunt. A pulse of arousal surges through your whole body. 

“Please,” You moan, pulling his head further down. You lean back and pull him into a kiss. His fingers plunge down and run through your folds. You gasp for air at the sensation. 

His fingers come up and circle lazily around your clit, already wet and wanting for his touch. He holds you. He plays with you. 

Something’s missing this time. Something that was always there when you were both in the most intimate of positions— The spider-sense. You felt its presents, as you always did with Miguel, but you didn’t feel its pull. It’s seemingly innate nature to make you and Miguel go at each other like animals. 

He wasn’t doing any of this because he felt like he had to, he was doing this because wanted to. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted to see you squirm and come undone by his hands. 

Later— Think about it later. Just enjoy this. Enjoy him. 

He slowly pushes his middle finger inside you. You grind yourself into his palm as he slowly works in and out of you. His free hand comes up to cradle your breasts. He backs you both into the closest wall, the water still cascading over you. His knee comes up between your legs, spreading you wider. 

“I’ve got you, arañita. Te tengo, está bien .” He moans against you. You're completely leaning against him as he holds you close. As he works you faster. 

You see a glimpse of the both of you in the mirror past the quickly fogging glass— it’s absolutely filthy and you love it. His massive hulking form curled around you wantonly. Your serine, blissed-out face. You adored this man.  

“I want you,” You moan, “W-want more.”

“No,” He says just a little too quickly, “Not yet.”

“Please.” You beg breathlessly. 

“Not yet, sweet girl,” He sighs, pressing a kiss against your temple. “Finish healing. Get better for me, then you can have whatever you want.”

You don’t entirely dislike the sound of that. You're suddenly aware of your aching body again after being so caught up in the moment. With how fast you were healing it wouldn’t be long at all. 

“P-promise?” you barely gasp out. 

“I promise.” He curls his finger inside you, grinding his palm against your clit. You gasp, arching further into his touch. “Good girl.”

He was playing you like a fiddle. Familiar with every part of you like the back of his hand. He holds you there against him for what felt like hours, slowly working you. Letting the pressure build and fade as he saw fit— making you feel good.

You eventually come with a shaky sigh, your mind completely melting away. He holds you up, letting the warm water wash over you a few minutes more. You were spent, you were tired. The shower stops. Miguel wraps you in a towel and carries you to the bed.

He sets you on the mattress and gently runs the towel over your body. He cradles your leg, kissing down the length of it as the towel wicks away the beads of moisture. He does the same with your other leg and your arms. He takes his time, giving attention to every part of you. You watch him as he does so, feeling your heart race faster with every gentle touch. 

He said he would take care of you. He said he wanted you to feel good. 

When he finishes you hold each other's gaze for a moment. Both still completely naked, you now dry and him still sopping wet. It was a little ridiculous, but you’d never felt more comfortable around someone in your life than with this lumbering man kneeling at your feet. 

He stands eventually, running the now useless towel over his damp hair. “I should—”

“Stay,” you reach out to him, grabbing his wrist. “Stay with me tonight. Please.”

He pauses, looking down at you. You can’t help but feel so small and meek under his gaze. He’d just unspokenly catered to your every need and now you were begging him to sleep with you. Pathetic, maybe, but you don’t fucking care. You just didn’t want him to leave— and you don’t think he does either.

He closes his eyes with a small smile, “Alright. One moment, please.”

He disappears back into the bathroom to grab a fresh towel and comes back out dry with a pair of black briefs on. You curl under the crisp white covers as he rounds the other side of his massive bed. The lights dim as he crawls in next to you. You roll onto your side and he pulls you into him. You feel his steady breathing against your back and it sends a wave of comfort over the normally buzzing spider-sense. He was so close. You were in his bed— with him.

“Miguel—”

“Shhhh,” he hums, resting his chin just above your head, “Duerme querida.”

You close your mouth, opting just to enjoy the rare moment with him. The feel of his body completely engulfing yours. His thumb tenderly rubbing comforting circles against your stomach. His alluring, amazing scent. Everything— just everything about him right now. You commit it to memory and lock it away.

You were in deep shit.

__________

Déjame cuidarte: Let me take care of you Te tengo, está bien: I’ve got you, it’s okay. Duerme, querida: Sleep, my dear.

And of course, do correct me if any of this is wrong!

I could think of literally no other way to get our Arañita in his house other than some dramatic near death experience, okay

_________

Taglist:

@ineedgarlicbread @pinkiemme @thesilenthill @bontensbabygirl @fallenangelsongwolf @raerorigel @littlefreakymunson @viriexo

@w33ni3

[ltash]

Damsel In Distress

"You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear." - Oscar Wilde

Angela, you go ahead, we'll cover you, hermana," Alejandro said.

I ran and jumped over the rocks, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

"Watch for snipers!" Ghost yelled from behind.

Alejandro, Soap, and Ghost came after me. As I climbed a rock, a sniper bullet whizzed past me, grazing the side of my lower belly where my plated vest didn't cover. It felt like a big paper cut, and a blood-curdling scream escaped my lips as blood started to soak my clothes.

I struggled to keep my eyes open, the edges of my vision darkening. Ghost's arm wrapped around me, providing a steadying presence.

"Angela! Look at me," Ghost commanded, his voice cutting through the haze of pain.

My eyes fluttered open, locking onto his. I tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming, making it hard to form words. The searing intensity of the sniper bullet's graze was far worse than I had imagined, feeling more like a full gunshot wound.

Ghost's expression softened slightly, a rare glimpse of concern breaking through his stoic exterior. "Stay with me, Angela. You're going to be okay," he said, his voice both a reassurance and a command.

As the convoy started moving, the rhythmic hum of the engine provided a strange comfort.

The whole journey, my constant whimpers and groans of pain filled the confined space of the convoy. Despite my best efforts to stay quiet, the agony was too much to bear. Every bump in the road sent fresh waves of torment through my body.

Ghost's arm remained steady around me, providing both physical and emotional support. He kept his voice low and calm, offering reassurances. "You'll be okay, Angela. Just hang in there."Soap glanced over from his seat, his expression a mix of concern and determination.

"We're almost there, just a bit longer," he said, trying to keep my spirits up. Alejandro occasionally looked back from the front seat, his eyes filled with worry. "Stay with us, hermana. We're not leaving you behind."Despite their words, the pain made it hard to focus. I rested my head against Ghost's shoulder, seeking some semblance of comfort.

We reached the base, and the cars pulled inside. Ghost opened the door. By that time, I was nearly passed out, barely holding on to consciousness. The adrenaline that had kept me going was fading, and the pain and exhaustion were taking over.

"Hey, Angela," Ghost tried waking me up.

I barely opened my eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling me under. Ghost's usually stern voice held a hint of concern.

"We need a medic here, now!" he called out urgently.

Alejandro and Soap rushed over as a couple of medics appeared, quickly assessing my injuries.

"She’s lost a lot of blood," one of the medics said, pressing a bandage against my wound.

"We'll get her stabilized," the other medic assured, starting an IV.

"Hang in there, Angela," Soap said, his voice soft but firm. "You're gonna be okay."

As they lifted me onto a stretcher, Ghost stayed close, his presence a steady anchor in the chaos. I felt a hand squeeze mine, and I knew it was his.

"We're right here with you," he said quietly.

They took me to the infirmary, the urgency in their movements making my head spin. When the medic poured alcohol on my wound, I screamed so loudly that the entire base echoed with my cry.

"Hold still, Angela," one of the medics urged, his voice trying to be soothing but strained with urgency.

Ghost, Alejandro, and Soap stood nearby, their faces etched with worry.

"You’re going to be fine," Ghost reassured me, his voice a rare mix of gentleness and command.

The medics worked quickly, their hands moving with practiced efficiency to clean and bandage my wound. The burning pain seared through my lower back, and I couldn't hold back the tears. "Mommy!" I screamed, crying for my mom as I remembered she always took my pain away.

"You're strong, Angela. Just a little longer," Soap said, giving me an encouraging nod.

It felt like an eternity, but finally, the medics finished dressing the wound and started an IV drip to ease the pain.

"She’ll need to rest and recover," one of the medics informed the team.

"We’ll make sure she gets it," Alejandro replied firmly, his eyes meeting mine. "You did good out there."

Exhaustion began to overtake me, and I let my eyes close, comforted by the presence of my team. I knew I was safe and in good hands.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. Someone was holding my hand.

I blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the light. Ghost sat beside me, his grip firm and reassuring.

"Hey," he said softly, noticing I was awake.

I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in my back made me wince.

"Take it easy," Ghost said. "You're still healing."

I nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and relief. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"We made it out," he replied. "You were pretty banged up, but the medics took care of you."

Alejandro and Soap walked in, relief washing over their faces when they saw I was awake.

"How are you feeling?" Alejandro asked.

"Sore," I admitted, "but better."

"You gave us quite a scare," Soap said with a smile. "But you did great out there."

I smiled weakly. "Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you guys."

Ghost squeezed my hand gently. "Rest now. We've got everything under control."

"I am hungry," I said, my voice a bit stronger.

Ghost chuckled softly. "That's a good sign."

Alejandro smiled. "I'll get you something to eat. Any preferences?"

"Anything but those chips," I joked weakly, remembering the incident in the car.

Soap grinned. "I'll see what the mess hall has. Be right back."

As he left, Ghost continued to hold my hand. "You scared us out there, Angela. But you’re tough. You’ll be back on your feet in no time."

"Thanks, Ghost," I said, feeling a wave of gratitude. "For everything."

"We're a team," he replied. "We take care of each other."

A few minutes later, Soap returned with a tray of food. "Here you go. Soup and some bread to start."

I took the bowl, my hands trembling slightly, and began to eat. The warmth of the soup soothed me, and I felt a bit of my strength returning.

"Take your time," Alejandro said. "There's no rush."

"We are going to capture Hassan with the help of Shadow Company," Alejandro said. "Let's see how things turn out. Meanwhile, you rest."

I nodded, feeling a mix of concern and determination. "Be careful out there."

"We will," Ghost assured me. "You just focus on getting better."

As they prepared to leave, Soap gave me a reassuring smile. "We’ll bring him in. Don’t worry."

I watched them go, feeling a surge of pride in my team. They were going to continue the mission, and I had to trust them to succeed.

I settled back into the bed, letting the exhaustion take over. As I drifted off, I found comfort in knowing that, despite everything, we were still moving forward together.

I woke up in the evening to Soap's voice.

"Angela, he's here. We're going to interrogate him. Do you want to come?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, feeling a mix of curiosity and hesitation. "Yes," I replied finally, pushing myself to sit up. "I want to be there."

Soap nodded, offering me a hand to help me up. "Let's go then. Just take it easy."

They took Hassan outside. I was feeling much better, so I walked with them. For the first time, I saw Philip Graves.

"You must be Angela, right?" he asked. From his accent, I knew he was American.

"Yes," I replied.

Hassan was sitting on his knees, and they pulled the black cloth from his head. Ghost stood beside the jeep, while Soap and Alejandro positioned themselves behind Hassan.

"You speak Arabic? Farsi?" Hassan asked.

"No," Graves replied.

"Then I'll have to speak in your medieval English, you illiterate street dogs," Hassan sneered.

"I speak Farsi and Arabic," I said, stepping in front.

Everyone's eyes turned to me in shock.

"Then you must not be one of them," Hassan said.

"Salaam! And yes, I am one of them," I replied.

"Anha sanhal Ghobrani raakshand wa man inteqam hama anha ra khuwahim giraft," Hassan spat, his eyes filled with fury. (They killed Ghubrani and I will avenge him.)

"Na shama en kar ra nakhwahid kard," I said firmly. (No, you won't do that.)

Everyone watched in silence, the tension in the air palpable. Hassan glared at me, but I stood my ground, unwavering.

I said, my voice steady. (You cannot win against them, and what will be the difference between you and them if you do the same thing they did?)

Hassan looked at me, a mix of confusion and curiosity in his eyes. "How do you know Farsi and Arabic so well?" he asked.

"Because my mother is from Iran and the UAE," I replied. "But I am American by birth and by blood, and I won't take any shit from you. If you try to do anything stupid, Hassan, I will kill you with my own hands. Payan." (The end.)

Everyone around us was silent, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Hassan stared at me, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Ghost, Soap, and Alejandro watched, ready to back me up.

"You cannot keep me without my will. I am Quds Force major," Hassan shouted, his voice echoing with defiance.

Graves stepped forward, his demeanor cold and threatening. "We'll see about that," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I moved to stand silently beside Ghost, observing the tense exchange.

"Extremely impressive," Ghost said, turning his face towards me.

"I am," I replied confidently, leaving no room for doubt.

Ghost's eyes narrowed at me. "Now I know my choice is good," he said.

"Yes, definitely," I replied, rolling my eyes at him.

Shepherd ordered Hassan's release. Soap intervened, but ultimately, Shepherd was right. We couldn't keep Hassan on mere suspicions. His mobile had already been traced by Laswell, leaving us no choice but to let him go.

After Hassan was released, Soap turned towards me. "Angela, you are so talented."

"Shukran, Habibi!" I replied in Arabic, a playful smile on my face.

"Teach me some languages when you get time," he said.

"Sure! When we are back from this mission, I will."

Ghost walked in silence.

"You are full of surprises, Hermana!" Alejandro said as he walked past us, praising me.

"Gracias Hermano." I replied.

We went back to the base, and Soap showed me to my room, which was conveniently next to Ghost's.

I went straight to the shower, taking care not to mess with my stitches. The warm water was a much-needed relief, washing away the dirt and grime from the river. I got dressed in a tight black t-shirt and sweatpants, feeling slightly more human.

My body felt sore, and I started feeling feverish. By the time I went to bed, the fever had spiked. I had zero energy to move, so I tried to sleep, but it was in vain. The pain and the heat from the fever made it impossible to find any comfort.

Fever and chills made me partially unconscious and unaware of my surroundings. The next morning, I heard loud banging on my door.

"Angela! Open the door, it's already noon." Ghost's voice boomed through the door, realizing I hadn't left the room since last night.

I had no energy left to even leave the bed. I tried to speak, but my voice was barely a whisper.

"Open the door. Bloody fucking hell!" he cursed.

Soap and Alejandro joined him. "What happened, hermano?" Alejandro asked.

"She isn't opening the door. Do you have a spare key?" Ghost asked.

I could hear their muffled voices from afar. "Yes, hermano." Alejandro went and came back with a bunch of keys.

The door flung open.

"Angela!" Ghost rushed to check on me, cupping my face. "She is burning," he said, concern evident in his voice.

He carried me and took me to the hospital. My eyes fluttered open as soldiers watched him carry me, with Soap following closely behind.

The doctors checked my stitches and put me on antibiotics. As they worked, I could feel the fever starting to abate slightly, though I was still weak and exhausted.

"You're going to be okay," Ghost said softly, staying by my side. "Just rest now."

"Who told you to leave the hospital when you weren't feeling well?" Ghost said, his tone sharp.

"It was me. I asked her to come to see Hassan," Soap admitted, looking guilty.

"I'll see you later, Soap," Ghost said, glaring at him.

Soap nodded and left the room, leaving Ghost and me alone. Ghost's expression softened as he turned back to me, his concern evident.

"You need to take care of yourself, Angela," he said quietly.

"I know," I replied weakly. "I'm sorry."

"Just focus on getting better," he said, staying by my side as I drifted back to sleep, feeling reassured by his presence .

The whole day, Ghost stayed by my side. He gave me my medicine on time, checked on me regularly, and made sure I was comfortable. God, he was such husband material.

At lunchtime, he brought me a tray of food. "Eat," he ordered, bringing the spoon to my mouth.

"I don't feel like it," I resisted, feeling like a child.

"You need to eat to get your strength back," he insisted, his eyes firm but caring. "Just a few bites."

Reluctantly, I opened my mouth and took a bite, feeling a bit better with each spoonful.

"Should I bring you crisps?" Ghost chuckled, mentioning the chips again.

I couldn't help but laugh. Despite feeling unwell, his lightheartedness brought a smile to my face. "Maybe later," I replied, feeling grateful for his efforts to keep my spirits up.

"There you are, the happy girl I know," Ghost said, pinching my cheek.

"Ouch! Get your hands off me," I replied, playfully slapping his arm.

My hair was a mess, and Ghost took it upon himself to run his gloved fingers through it, causing it to tousle even more.

"Stop it, Simon!" I scolded him, trying to push his hand away, but secretly enjoying the attention.

As he pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me, I playfully hit his chest. But then he kissed my cheek, his lips warm and tender against my skin. Before I could react, he crashed his lips into mine, igniting a spark of passion between us.

Drawing me closer, he sat on the bed and pulled me onto his lap, his hands running gently over my thigh. "I want to eat you up, luvvie," he said with a playful grin, his eyes filled with affection.

"Get better for me love." He whispered.

I heard the door open, and Soap's voice filled the room. "Hey LT!" he called out, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw me sitting on Ghost's lap.

"What are you doing here, Soap?" I said, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. "At least knock before you enter."

I quickly stood up from Ghost's lap and moved to sit on the bed, trying to compose myself.

"What do you want, Soap?" Ghost's voice was stern as he addressed him.

"Alejandro is calling you to his office," Soap replied, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

I felt sorry for Soap as he left the room, clearly embarrassed by the situation. Ghost stood up, giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead before leaving to attend to Alejandro's call.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Out of the Woods

So finally here is the fic to accompany the Liebgott Taylor Swift moodboard (as seen below) Pairings: Joseph Liebgott x reader. Warnings: swearing, gore (reader is a nurse), war themes

Normandy 1944

Joseph Liebgott had never been the easiest man to get along with, he was stubborn and opinionated and was built like a ticking time bomb, the slightest thing could set him off and that was the mistake Y/n made when she first bumped into him.

“Hey, watch where ya going ya shit head!” Y/n stumbled forward, her threadbare boots scuffing in the mud as she dropped the wooden crate of medical supplies, cursing as the valuable, clean bandages unravelled into the sludgy puddle. The path outside the aid station was a thick mire and often reminded Y/n of the way her father had reminisced about the trenches of the Great War.

“ I should watch where I’m going?” Y/n spat, narrowing her eyes at the paratrooper, “You’re the one who just cost first battalion half of their medical supplies.” Throwing the salvageable bandages back into the box in anguish, the crumpled lumps of clay-coloured cloth were no good now. Y/n wasn’t sure how she was going to break the news to Eugene; the medic wasn’t known for his anger but knowing their situation this would surely push him over the edge.

The paratrooper spun around to face her, his skin pale and dark eyes encircled by purple, “oh so first battalion got their own personal nurse now? No wonder those fuckers are so cheerful,” he sneered, oblivious of the accident he had inflicted and not bother to offer any kind of assistance as Y/n fumbled anxiously for the supplies.

“No, I’m distributing supplies to all the medics in each battalion of Dog, Easy and Fox company actually, but maybe when I find out which battalion you’re from I’ll conveniently skip them,” she snapped back, thrusting the waterlogged box aggressively under her arm, no longer concerned by the trail of sludge leaking down her white apron.

“Good day, Corporal.”

Holland 1944

The second time they met was no better. Joe had been injured on a patrol and his neck was bleeding profusely through the rudimentary bandage wrapped poorly in a limp scarf.

“Liebgott just let me look at it God dammit,” Y/n reached over, her nimble fingers trying desperately to remove the bandage from his neck but he flinched away. Her fingers barely brushed against the dressing as he shot up from his seat in a receptive, crumbling leather chair situated in the corner of the temporary aid station, having once been someone’s home that now lay abandoned and derelict.

“No, get off me. I don’t need your help. Where’s Doc Roe?” Liebgott snapped, and Y/n sighed elaborately; she was in no mood for this kind of attitude. There were eleven other men in the aid station who would all greatly appreciate being attended too.

“Doc Roe is dealing with other casualties. You got me or nothing.”

Liebgott snorted, “Guess I’ll just bleed to death then.”

Y/n protested but Liebgott had already shouldered his M1 and was making his way towards the entrance.

“Why won’t you just let me look at it?” Y/n hollered, a little louder than she had intended and alerted the other paratroopers.

Joe spun on his heels, his mouth-eaten jump boots, scraping the rough, wooden floorboards.

“I don’t want some woman half-assing a dressing because she wants to be part of the war effort. This is no place for a woman, it is a man's war,” he vituperated her, taking no notice of the stares he was receiving from his friends. “I don’t want your help,” his word was final and his boots were heavy as he departed leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

“I don’t know what his problem is with me, Gene,” Y/n sighed, as she finished unpacking the fresh medical supplies from one of the many crates from their much-needed supply drop. Her muscles griped, but soon relaxed as she finally took a seat on one of the crates; Y/n had been on her feet all day. “I don’t know why he hates me.”

Eugene's dark eyes followed her movements, sending a sympathetic smile her way as he dropped down beside her on the crates, “Liebgott is a hard man to read, ma Chérie.”

Y/n simpered, the right corner of her lips turning upwards at the nickname. Eugene, with his dark hair and kind eyes, had always been a striking character and the two were of one mind. His friendly but subdued nature seemed to draw people to him, making him a favourite within the company, including with Y/n who despite what other men in the Company thought was always a welcome hand by Eugene’s side,

“I just don’t understand why he hates me.”

“I don’t hate you,” the gruff voice caused the pair to turn; Y/n felt as though she may have whiplash from the speed at which she spun around, concerned by how much he could have heard from their conversation and worried that he would now think she was pathetic, lamenting about trivial problems. Joe, standing in the doorway leaning against his M1, seemed to have not heard the conversation or if he had he never made a comment. Instead, his dark eyes made their way towards Eugene, bloody bandages still pressed against the wound on his neck.

“Are you free to look at my neck now, Doc?” He asked, ignorant of Y/n presence - why should this be any different to any of their previous interactions? He stared blankly at Eugene.

“Sure, Liebgott,” Eugene stood up and moved over to his fellow paratrooper. “Take ya self a seat, I’ll grab ma things.”

Eugene disappeared, his heavy footfalls seemed to echo his departure and was the only sign Y/n needed.

“I’m going to head out, Gene. I’m shattered,” her hands fumbling into her musette bag, hastily stuffing the extra box of syrettes Eugene had given her into the inner pocket. Joe’s eyes seemed to dance after her, an unwanted shadow documenting her every movement. They followed her out of the door and even as her boots squelched unpleasantly down the track, her legs carrying her rapidly away from the watchful eyes. She couldn’t find it in her to turn around, to face him, too afraid of the glare he always sent her way.

Bastogne 1944

The Luftwaffe started dropping bombs around midnight. Y/n with blood encrusted under her short nails, had just finished her rounds, checking on all the wounded soldiers she had patched up during the day. The distinct whistling from above was her first clue that they weren’t going to have a quiet night. Like a deathly siren announcing the beginning of the end. Reneé appeared beside her, anxiety etched on her delicate features.

“We are in for a long night, Y/n. Grab what supplies you can.”

Y/n nodded, hurrying towards the store room when the first bomb whistled down on the church, shaking it from the rafters, dust falling in great clouds from the ceiling.

“Y/n, come quickly. We have to evacuate everyone.”

Along with the other nurses, Y/n helped Reneé evacuate the walking wounded first, sending injured soldiers into the snowy streets of Bastogne. Next came the more severely injured, hauled out on stretchers between two nurses.

“Y/n, stay out here with the wounded, check their wounds. We have to make sure no one has torn any stitches trying to escape. I’m going to try and get some more out,” Reneé called, hurrying back into the crumbling church with several other nurses hot on her heels.

Great flames billowed from the surrounding buildings, the night was ablaze with fire and smoke, and the earth shook with each eruption. Soldiers had started firing the Ack Ack guns at the aircraft above. The noise was deafening, a constant pounding over the top of the whistling bombs and explosions. Y/n could feel her heart pounding, a constant thumping in her ear reminding her that she was miraculously still alive.

The church was struck again and Y/n had to fight the urge to follow her friends into danger, but the wounded soldiers needed her. Lights flashed up behind her, illuminating the terrified nurse and her patients. She turned to see a jeep approaching, a wounded man strapped to the front wailing in agony, thrashing against his restraints. The jeep swerved to a halt and a figure came running towards her.

“EUGENE!” She cried out running to embrace her friend.

“Ma Chérie, are you alright?” Eugene hugged her tightly to his chest. Y/n couldn’t help the tears that began to fall, the growing emotions of the evening finally spilling from within her.

“Gene, Reneé went back inside,” Y/n sobbed, just as the third shell hit the church. They both watched in horror as the front of the church caved in, stone crumbling down into the street and blocking the entrance.

“NOOOO!” Y/n cried, thrashing against Eugene’s arms but he wouldn’t let go.

“No Y/n, please. There is nothing we can do. I can’t lose you too,” he admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as they shared in their grief.

Joe sat shivering in his foxhole, the cold seeping into his bones in a way that the winter in San Francisco never could have.

“Hey Joe,” George called out, plonking himself down beside him. “How ya doing?” George shoved his scuffed leather boot against Joe’s clothed leg, prodding him like an impatient child.

Joe turned to him, “How the fuck do you think I’m doing, George? I’m freezing my fucking ass off in the middle of the woods for a CO who can’t even make a decision.”

“Alright, jeez. Sorry for asking,” George raised his hands in surrender. “We just got news from Bastogne.” George began, trying to gauge Joe’s reaction. “It was hit by the Luftwaffe. The aid station… it’s gone.”

“Oh fucking brilliant. Now if we get hit we ain’t got no aid station either.”

George swallowed quickly, “Y/n was in Bastogne.”

Any words Joe had thought of died in the back of his throat. His face went as white as the snow on the ground and he could feel the sweat growing on his palms, his stomach plummeting into his jump boots.

“Is she…?”

“I don’t know, Joe. Doc’s not back yet but I wanted to prepare you in case.”

“In case of what?” Joe snapped, standing from his foxhole and slinging his M1 over his shoulder in anguish. “And why should I care anyway? It’s not like I like her or anything.”

“Fucking hell,” George whispered under his breath. “Joe, when are you gonna grow some balls and admit you’re in love with her. Everyone can see it, including Webster and he’s oblivious to most things.”

It was true George had to spell it out to him back in Holland before he got hit.

“Webster sent a letter to Hoobler the other week asking if you’d finally told Y/n.”

Joe sighed, running his hand over his face, deep in thought.

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Hell yes. I bet even the Krauts on the other side of the clearing can see it.”

Joe nodded slowly, “okay. As soon as I find her I’m gonna tell her.”

George nodded, watching as his friend hurried away to check if Eugene had returned.

“Let’s just hope he’s not too late.”

Y/n groaned as she straightened her back, stretching after what seemed like hours of bending over to apply dressings, carrying wounded men to transport vehicles, and digging through the rubble to collect supplies. Her friend's bodies had been retrieved from the church and lay in a neat row under rough, army-issued blankets. Y/n couldn’t bring herself to look at them, couldn’t bring herself to accept their fate.

She had seen members of Easy Company coming and going. A few had been sent by Captain Winters to help, bringing with them more wounded paratroopers from the front line. Y/n was too preoccupied to notice the familiar figure approaching her, she didn’t notice until he grabbed her arm firmly and spun her around to face him.

“Liebgott!” She gasped, raising her hand to smack him. “What the hell is your problem? You scared me half to death.”

Joe looked a mixture of shocked and confused until his cheeks grew a bright red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He seemed genuinely sorry but Y/n was too consumed by her emotions to think rationally.

“Well you did a darn good job of that didn’t you,” she snapped. “You know if you’re just here to be mean or make some rude comment then you can forget it. I’m not in the mood today. I just lost my friends.” Y/n knew she should not have snapped, it wasn’t Joe’s fault but all the emotions were bubbling up inside her and if she felt anymore pain her heart would burst.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Joe began, he reached forward to take Y/n hand in his own. It was warm, comforting and almost felt familiar, as if he had been holding her hand all their lives. She let him but watched in confusion by this unusual act.

“I’m so sorry about your friends, Y/n. I know this must be difficult for you. I’m here because… well when George told me the aid station had been hit I couldn’t think of anything else than making sure you were okay. Y/n I realised something and…”

“Joe, let me stop you right there. Why would you care if I was okay or not? Joe you hate me… and… and I’ve never understood why?” Y/n sobbed, bringing her hand to cover her mouth, muffling her whimpers into her bloody sleeve. “Why do you hate me, Joe? What did I do wrong?”

Joe’s heart shattered at the sight of the broken woman in front of him. Her shoulders shook violently and tears flowed freely down her dirty cheeks, smudge with ash and mud. She looked frail, weak even and Joe hated that he’d caused it.

“Y/n, I never hated you. Why would you think that?” Joe moved towards her, collecting her hands in his own larger ones once more and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Talk to me, Y/n. Please.”

“Well you always shout at me and… and you wouldn’t l-let me treat your wound and y-you avoid me all the time,” she stammered, looking up at him through tear-filled lashes.

“Oh Sweetheart,” Joe pulled her against his chest, his breath felt warm and tingly against her neck. Y/n had never noticed that he was only slightly taller than her and her head fitted perfectly in the crook of his neck. Her hands wrapped into tight fists against his jacket and she could feel his heart hammering against her hands. “I don’t want you to ever feel like that again.”

“Joe…”

“Shh Mein Liebling, it’s all going to be alright now.”

Austria 1945

Y/n had never dreamed that she would get to visit Austria. It seemed as if it was a world away from the likes of Bastogne and the horrors of war. Its tranquil, turquoise lakes and steep mountains with their snow-covered peaks seemed the pinnacle of the landscape. Work had become scarce too, other than the occasional scrape or sprain it had mainly become stock control and arranging supplies to be sent to the Pacific where the fighting had yet to cease. Y/n knew that both herself or Joe could be sent to the Pacific at any time it was inevitable, and neither of them was going to get through the war unscathed.

For now, they were at peace and in the comforts of her room, under clean sheets with her legs tangled in Joe’s and her head resting on his chest, Y/n couldn’t help but feel at peace. The steady thrumming of his heart and the gentle rise and fall of his chest coaxed her too and from sleep in waves. She didn’t want to move, afraid that she would disturb her sleeping paratrooper but at the same time her legs had gone numb hours ago and she could feel the pins and needles begin to prickle their way up her legs.

“Joe?” She whispered, reasoning her hand cautiously to brush a stray brunette lock out of his eyes. Joe’s nose wrinkled and he screwed his eyes shut tighter with a sigh. Y/n smiled as she watched him stir from his slumber. It was one of life’s greatest pleasures to see Joe so relaxed, so at peace even if for just a while.

Joe moaned, his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks before they opened revealing his chestnut orbs.

“Good morning Mein Liebling,” his voice was gruff and sleepy but the smile on his face said that he was more than conscious enough to show his love.

Y/n smiled back at him, “Good morning handsome. How did you sleep?”

“It’s the best night's sleep I’ve had in a while, although I don’t recall much bc sleeping happening.” Joe grinned and Y/n's cheeks grew bright red at the thought of last night’s activity. Glancing around the room there was evidence everywhere. Clothes strewn across the floor, the mirror hung lopsided on the wall, the desk was cleared of any objects and the paper that had once occupied it lay across the carpet.

“I have to admit it’s the most enjoyable night I’ve had in a long time,” Joe admitted, tangling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“Me too,” Y/n admitted and Joe smiled once again.

“What does it mean? Mein Liebling?” Y/n asked, running her fingernails slowly over his exposed chest.

Joe laughed, “my darling. It’s been your nickname for a long time.” He admitted his cheeks rosy and his smile nervous.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been calling you that for far longer than you’ve realised. I just didn’t want anyone to realise I was talking about you. Figured the other guys would give me hell about it.” Releasing the lock he’d wrapped around his finger, he sat propped up by his elbows so he could face her.

“Y/n, I need to ask you something and it’d be real nice if your answer was yes.”

Y/n sat up now too, her expression a mixture of anxiety and confusion but the soft smile on her lips encouraged him to continue.

“Y/n will you come home with me, back to Chicago I mean? I can get my old job back at the cab company and we can buy a big house…” he paused a grin spreading across his lips. “A big house with lots of rooms, for all the little Liebgotts we’re gonna be making.”

Y/n laughed, smacking Joe’s arm.

“You’re lucky you’re good looking Liebgott.”

“Am I taking that as a yes?”

“Yes, you can.”

Joe grinned at her, his cheeky little smile followed by a little laugh causing Y/n’s heart to swell beyond what she thought was possible. Wrapped in Joe’s arms in their little room in Austria Y/n realised that maybe they were finally out of the woods.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @desert-fern @mayhem24-7forever @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @merriell-allesandro-shelton @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @mutantmanifesto @malarkgirlypop

[witchy-shortcake]

That one Jade drabble i promised i would write.

TW⚠️: This story contains mentions of drinking and substance abuse, if you find those themes triggering i advice you to Skip this.

I really hope you all enjoy my first attempt at a semi-decent whump drabble.

Jade came stumbling into the apartment. She didn't even bother to take off her boots, which were leaving muddy footprints everywhere.

Slumping against the wall, she managed to reach the couch and crah face first into the cushioned surface, letting out a small muffled sound.

She sat Up as best as she could, wincing in pain, and started undressing, tossing her blood-stained clothes aside, leaving on only her bra and panties. There's were still a couple hours before she had to pick up Sunny from school so she could clean It all Up later.

She examined the bullet wounds on her leg and forearm, she was sure she could dig the bullets out of there herself, she wasn't a newbie anymore, but, still, she would need a little... Numbing if she wanted It to work.

She crawled towards one of the drawers she always kept locked so her sister wouldn't try to play with it's contents, leaving a bloody trail on the floor, and took out some pills, gauze and a bottle of cheap liquor. Those would probably do the trick.

She stumbled back to the couch with the little strenght she had left and downed the pills in one go, followed by a big gulp of absolutely disgusting alcohol that tasted like rusty nails. She then closed her eyes and waited for the pain to subside, taking another hit from the alcohol bottle every time she felt the burning pain of her wounds, which were seemingly already starting to get infected.

Jade finaly started feeling the effects of the drugs coursing through her system. She bit into the shirt she had casted aside before to try and avoid screaming and started digging her fingers into one of the wounds. The pain made her see black spots but the alcohol and The pills were numbing the sensations down to some degree, and she sure was thankful for that.

She managged to dig out both of the bullets and poorly wrap both the open wounds in gauze. She got Up from the couch, skinny legs trembling with the effort to walk to the bathroom to clean herself without putting too much weight in the injured leg. When she got there she turned the water on to draw herself a cold bath and disposed of her underwear. She took the rest of the pills out of their bag and swallowed them before going into the bathtub.

She slipped into the bathtub, letting out a sigh of relief as the freezing water made Contact with her sweat-soaked skin, her wounds stung like hell but It wouldn't last long, the drugs were already starting to take effect and She could feel It, she only had to wait a couple of minutes more.

Before she knew It, Jade was barely conscious, her head kept above water but not for long. She felt hot and nauseous and her head felt like It was stuffed with cotton. She could no longer tell when or where she was anymore.

If she could have looked at herself from outside of her body, Jade would have though It was ironic, She looked almost like he did, when she found him in his apartment almost three months ago, feverish, high out of his mind and injured beyond repair, marinating in a mixture of old bathwater and his own blood for god knows how long, but, somehow, still Alive and kicking. But, if she didn't manage to get Up before the bathtub overflowed and her head ended Up under water Jade would not have the same luck.

She woke Up again almost an hour later. The water had thankfully stopped running, and The one that she was bathing in was a brownish red, from her Blood and all the dirt that she had come home covered in. She crawled out of the tub, leaving behind the drenched and bloody bandages and managed to take a few steps before she fell to her knees, overcome by pain and overwhelming nausea. She held back her hair as best as she could, even though It was damp and plastered to her face, and started spewing out all the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. She had barely eaten anything for the past few days, but still, she felt like her body was purging out all her sins, along with what seemed like an endless flow of watery vomit.

When her stomach finaly stopped convulsing she fell to the ground, too exhausted to even cry in pain when her head hit the cold floor, falling into a far from blissful sleep.

[crisalidaseason]

Tenth entry: Accept protection and care.

Sometimes we are so used to protecting that we forget to be protected. Accept help as much as you would offer, lean on your friends and family. Nobody should burden anything alone.

_________

“Is it Deigh?” Garrick asked.

The pocket knife was quick and precise on Liam’s hands, the rough shape of a daggertail taking shape.

“No, I’ve carved him already. This one is Feirge”

“Rhiannion’s dragon, right?” Imogen chimed in.

Liam nodded, eyes still perfecting the back spikes of the dragon. He noticed as she sat beside Garrick on the dustless stone ground of Xaden’s room.

“She’s gorgeous, I’ll give you that” Garrick muttered, winking at him.

Liam had to swallow a groan when Imogen sent the man a death glare. Ugh, those two could be just as insufferable as Xaden and Violet. Liam was surrounded by idiots in love.

“I’m not hitting on her” Liam chuckled “but she is indeed pretty”

“He gave one to Sorrengail too” Imogen said “I think our boy Liam took a liking to my squad, which is expected since I am in it”

Liam softly kicked Imogen, to which she responded with a full force one. He yelled, rubbing the spot in an attempt to ease the pain.

“You’ve never done Chradh” Garrick put a hand on his chest “I’m hurt”

“Neither Glane” Imogen protested.

“I’ve only seen Glane a few times and never laid eyes on Chradh” Liam defended himself “Also, excuse me if I have other duties aside from taking commissions. I’ll make them eventually”

Interrupting their conversation, Xaden swung the door open and quickly pulled Bodhi and Masen through his wards. About an hour ago they were all waiting on the rest of the summoned marked ones to arrive until Xaden suddenly left the room in a hurry and asked them to wait for his return.

“What the fuck?” Liam blurted.

Bodhi’s face was bruised all over, left eye completely shut and a still bleeding split lip. As soon as the door closed, he collapsed, Masen and Xaden barely catching him.

“Shit” Imogen whispered, standing up and going through Xaden’s dresser in a practiced motion.

Liam left the bed, giving space for Bodhi to lay down. Garrick took rolls of bandages and a dark stained bottle from Imogen’s hands.

“Where do you keep cotton?” she asked Xaden.

“I ran out, use a clean bed sheet”

Liam did not understand what the fuck was happening, but he helped Imogen tear pieces of the sheet. He occasionally sent looks at Bodhi, who seemed to be out of danger but in a considerable amount of pain. What puzzled Liam was how calm everyone was - even Imogen - it seemed like he was the only one about to lose it.

“Imogen…” he whispered.

“Hey” she put a hand on his shoulder “It’s okay, he’s fine”

Yes, but why was he beaten to a pulp? Bodhi was not one to pick fights often and if he occasionally did, the other person was unconscious in a matter of minutes.

“I’m alright” Bodhi groaned as he pressed the cloth onto his split lip “no assassination attempt”

Liam trusted his friends, if they were not freaking out then he was not going to. He simply watched as Bodhi stripped his shirt - showing a variety of bruises and little wounds on his chest - and Xaden wrapped his cousin’s ribs with Garrick’s help.

“Tell me you have painkillers” Bodhi groaned.

“I don’t feel broken ribs” Garrick concluded.

“I ran out” Xaden groaned “I haven’t been able to stock up lately”

“I have it in my room” Liam offered “strong ones”

“I fucking love you, Liam” Bodhi laughed, but soon grimaced due to the effort on his ribs.

Liam sprinted to his room, careful not to be caught but fast enough that Bodhi would not be in pain for much longer. He quickly and silently entered his room, opening his warded drawer and pulling a vial of painkiller Violet had given him days ago.

“It’s actually a painkiller, but it knocks me out in a matter of minutes. Just don’t use more than two vials per month, choose wisely, and please do NOT use it if you’re not going to sleep immediately after” she had told him.

He knew from experience that the medication was potent, Bodhi would sleep like a princess. Liam sent a quick kiss in Violet’s general direction, hoping the girl was having a blessed sleep, and sprinted back to Xaden’s room.

“Here” he handed it to Garrick, gasping for air.

Bodhi took the vial and swallowed its contents in seconds, laying down again and waiting for it to take.

“Now, would someone kindly explain to me what the fuck just happened?”

None of them spoke, but he noticed the discreet shudder of Imogen’s frame. Xaden’s eyes were glued on Bodhi and that was enough for Liam to know that there was something serious about this.

“We might as well tell him” Garrick whispered “the earlier he mentally prepares, the better”

Xaden’s gaze remained on his cousin, but he nodded.

“It’s RSC classes” Imogen spilled “Rider Survival Course, it’s a second year requirement where they fucking torture you”

Liam felt the ground sway and nausea build in his guts. Fuck. This place was sick, this place was fucking sick. Of course leadership would not stop the high kill count in the first year.

“were you…like Bodhi?” he reluctantly asks “were all of you?”

The silence of the three third years was all the answer Liam needed and his mind began to spiral. He could not help but panic over the future, his future. Over her future. Bile rose up to his throat at the thought of Violet, Rhiannon, Sawyer and Ridoc going through it. Fuck, he thought about Imogen and Bodhi who were going through that shit.

“We got you, Liam” Masen said, most likely noticing his panic rising “we got each other’s back, in every single shit they put us through”

“We’ll patch you up when it happens” Imogen reinforces “You’ll be fine”

I’ll be by your side when it happens, boy. Deigh’s voice filled his head.

Liam nodded, but the disturbing images of his imagination were still fresh. He sat on the ground, shoulders giving up to the weight of his fate and life. He was so fucking tired, so fucking angry.

“Guys” Bodhi spoke, speech slurring “don’t wanna break the depressive mood, but I feel weird”

Xaden's eyes widened, assessing his cousin for any signs of danger.

“Does it feel like you have no bones?” Liam offered.

“Fuck man, exactly” Bodhi’s words were almost incomprehensible “what the fuck”

“It’s the painkiller” Liam explained “I felt the same, but Violet said it was normal”

Four heads turn to stare at Liam, Bodhi not being able to even find where Liam was.

“Why would you need a strong painkiller?” Imogen narrowed her eyes “and why is Sorrengail involved?”

Xaden, Garrick and Masen were inquiring the same with their eyes.

“Had trouble sleeping, she offered help”

“And you trusted her?” Masen exclaimed “she could have poisoned you!”

Xaden snorted and Garrick burst into laughter - to Masen’s shock and indignation. Even Imogen seemed to think the idea was ridiculous, despite her dislike for Violet.

“I doubt it, Masen” Xaden replied.

“Excuse me, Riorson. She might not try to kill you, but there is nothing stopping her from harming people dear to you” he insisted.

“Can you not talk about Violet like you know her?” Liam snapped “She’s not even here to defend herself!”

Masen could not be more shocked at his words, but Liam had no regrets. He was already fed up with people jumping to conclusions about Violet, at some point the fucking prejudice had to break. Violet was doing her part, it was about time the marked ones did theirs.

“And do you know her?” Masen gritted his teeth “how can you trust someone who was raised by that fucking murderer?”

“Enough” Xaden’s voice rumbled through the room.

Xaden’s features were unreadable, but Liam knew that he shared the same opinion as Liam’s.

“All of you, go back to your rooms” his brother ordered “Bodhi passed out already, we’ll reschedule the meeting for tomorrow”

Liam looked at Bodhi, who was indeed in a princess sleep. Masen left with a huff, not addressing any of them goodbye. Liam hated to be on bad terms with a marked one - they needed to be a unit after all - but he could not be a hypocrite and not offer Violet the same loyalty he offered to his other friends.

“Good night” Garrick clasped Xaden’s shoulder and patted on Bodhi’s leg “let’s go, woman of the hour. I’ll walk you to your room”

Imogen rolled her eyes at him, but offered her goodbyes, following Garrick. Liam was about to leave, but Xaden stopped him.

“You stay, Liam”

He nodded, standing up and crossing his arms. Xaden simply sat on the chair nearby, groaning in relief as his legs finally got to rest after such a hectic day.

“You know Masen is just looking out for you” his brother said.

“I know, but I’m not stupid. I know who to trust” Liam’s tone was still upset “she’s trying”

“She always does” Xaden’s eyes were distant, as if his words referred to something else “I’ll talk to Masen, I don’t think he’ll stay mad at you for long. Nobody does”

“Okay”

Liam noticed the block of wood and pocket knife on Xaden’s table, walking the few steps to retrieve it.

“I still have yours” he smiled “Sgaeyl says you could have made her meaner”

“I’ll take the constructive criticism” Liam chuckled.

Xaden sighed deeply, arms crossed loosely on his chest and eyes on Bodhi’s sleeping weight.

“What’s been keeping you up?” he finally asked “don’t say nothing, whatever Violence gave you must be strong as fuck for Bodhi to be out like that”

Liam debated lying, but it would be useless considering Xaden always knew when people were lying.

“Nightmare” he simply replied “my brain has new creative ways to plague my sleep”

Xaden huffed, surely not a stranger to the bad imagery of the human mind. Liam still remembered the night terrors in which he would wake up screaming, calling for his father. Something Liam also experienced alongside his brother.

“Some nights are hard for me too” his brother whispered “you can knock on my door if it happens again. Let’s refrain from using…medicine”

“It’s fine-”

“No, It’s not, Liam” his eyes locked Liam in place “I remember those nights-”

Xaden stopped, breathing unevenly.

“I remember” was all he said.

Liam did not reply, but nodded. If it gave Xaden an ounce of peace, he would take the offer every once in a while.

Previous chapter

Next chapter

[callofdudes]

Way back home.

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, John is tasked with picking up the pieces.

CW: Gore, violence.

Word count: 1.6K

Blood dripped down your temple. Everything was fuzzy. You stared straight ahead as your legs dragged your tired body out of the broken building. The fields of blown, torn up dirt sprayed across the ground. Men screamed and cried around you, shouting orders you couldn't comprehend. Bombs blasted the dirt around you. The dugout across the field hid your teammates who begged you to run for your life.

You were done.

Dirt and mud caked your clothes. Your uniform was torn and you were burnt. Flesh peeled away from your knee where bacteria swarmed and stung the area. Your ears were ringing and the rushing of your blood made you dizzy.

Your throat was dry and everything was sore. When you got close enough a soldier grabbed your foot and pulled you into the dugout. Your back hit the ground and you stared up at the sky. Three men's faces entered your vision but you didn't move to look at them. They called you but you couldn't respond. It took too much effort.

"GET A LIEUTENANT DOWN HERE! WE NEED THIS SOLDIER ON THE NEXT MEDICAL TRANSPORT!"

Two soldiers picked you up under your arms and heaved you out of the dugout where you were carried off. But you felt fine. Burning and tired, but your body has refused the idea of pain stopping you for a while now.

You could still see his body. Your last smile to him. "We've got them now." He replied triumphantly. "Just don't get killed alright." You muttered as you watched the door to the house. That was the last thing you said to him before the rocket hit the side of the building. Roach went flying and his head hit the other wall. His throat snapped and blood splattered from the wound. "ROACH!"

When you woke up there were voices around you. You looked up and resisted the urge to groan. Your legs pulsed and your body burned.

"Hmm, you're awake." A stern voice said.

You opened your eyes and looked around. From where you were you knew you weren't in medical. The dark atmosphere and the occasion jolt, followed by the harsh strum of an engine. You were in the back of a truck.

You looked down at your legs to find you weren't in a bed at all. You'd been strapped into one of the seats in the truck.

"You're in good health, soldier. A couple of bandages was all you needed."

You stared down at your shredded uniform. You felt disgusted. The dried blood that was barely cleaned and the dirt still caking your inflamed areas. How were you in good health? What about this was good health? Your throat was drier than the desert and your eyes stung. You had to curse at yourself and get to hold back your tears.

The soldier across from you grinned. "We're going back to base. Once we are debriefed we can get a shower hey everyone?" The van cheered.

One of them leaned forward. "Hey. You're 141, best handpicked soldiers on the planet."

You didn't bother to look up. As much as you got that a lot you weren't going to bring up a witty comeback or a strong argument.

Roach wouldn't be coming back with you.

You leaned your head into your hands and dropped your shoulders. Tears swelled in your eyes and silently fell into your palms. You broke down under the cover of the darkened van as the men talked like it was just another day. Talking to cope. Talking to hide the pain of lost company. Talking to try and avoid the thought of all the men who weren't on those transport trucks. You clawed at your messy hair and cursed yourself.

It felt like forever in that transport van. It felt like every moment was one step closer to losing your mind. Your tears eventually ceased. You couldn't cry anymore. Your eyes hurt and your throat constricted to the point you almost couldn't breathe. Your stomach growled and everything irritated you. Everything made you angry and upset. You felt so weak. So powerless.

"Hey, Y/N, bet I can lift more than you eh?"

"Try it, sergeant."

"OI! Roach! Y/N! Back to it!"

"Y/N, you want to try this new experiment I did with Johnny? It's really cool~"

"You're only asking because Ghost caught you and you didn't get to see the end result."

"...Alright. you have me there."

"Roach!"

"Y/N! I missed you so much!"

"Sergeant, get the bug under control."

"Bug? Watch how you talk to my partner pal!"

The truck stopped and the gate was opened. A lieutenant nodded and ushered you all out. One of the sergeants turned and carefully approached you. "It's going to be alright." He said as he unstrapped you before your weak arms could decide if they were up for the task.

You stepped out of the truck and looked up at the base. You watched the rest of the men walk toward their barracks with the lieutenant and sighed heavily. You picked yourself up and grabbed your gun. You tried to steady yourself and stepped on your sore leg. You made a stride toward the mission house for 141 which was a ways away.

The first thing you did when you got there was get some water. You felt a flood of relief when you turned on the tap and water rushed through it. You downed four glasses before stalking over to Price's office. You raised your hand to knock when you heard voices.

"-and both Ghost and Soap have gone MIA."

"Thank you lieutenant… keep an eye out for them if they try to contact us. If they're alive they'll let us know."

"Yes Captain."

You moved back out of sight as the door opened and the lieutenant left with a file in hand. You sunk to the floor and covered your mouth. Tears filled your eyes and you bit your skin to hide.

You cleared yourself somehow. You managed to stand, you grabbed the wall for stability and hobbled over. You knocked weakly on the door and heard Price's voice.

"Come in."

You opened the door and shakily walked in. You kept your eyes on the ground though you looked beyond bewildered. You slowly shut the door behind you and walked to the middle of the room.

Price looked at you and saw the state of you. Torn, bloodied, wrecked, shaking, sniffling.

"They informed me you'd be here for your briefing soon." Price pulled out a pen and waited for you to speak.

But nothing came.

You just looked at the edge of his desk. You felt everything inside you crumble.

You couldn't remember what was happening. You didn't know who was winning or losing. You didn't know how many men were killed or what info you'd gathered. It all just faded.

"Sergeant?" Price's voice grew quiet and soft.

You shuddered and opened your mouth. "I don… I don't know…"

"You don't know?"

You shuddered and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"Y/N, where is Roach?"

Another tear. And another.

Before you knew it Price was standing and coming around his desk. He wrapped his arms around you and everything stopped. The warmth, the reassurance, the comforting grasp.

"It's going to be ok sergeant."

Your hands came up and clawed his uniform. You hid in his shoulder and just cried. Tear after tear you sobbed against him. He didn't care about how messy or dirty you were. His large hands engulfed you, his strong arms kept you hidden and safe. The scent of cigar smoke and whiskey.

You clawed his jacket until your hands hurt. You shook violently.

"It'll be ok. It'll be ok…"

"Roach is dead! Roach is fucking dead!"

Your feet gave way and instead of clattering to the ground John held you and slowly brought you down to the carpet. He kneeled and rocked you in his arms. Your head fell back against the carpet. Your hands strangled to hold onto Price but he never let go.

He held you tightly and pulled you up into his chest. "It's not going to be ok." You croaked.

He turned back to you and brushed your hair out of your eyes. "Oh Y/N…" His own tears showed but all he could do was wish they didn't fall. "He is so proud of you. We're all so proud of you. I know that might not help but he's not mad. You know that. Whatever you did to try and save him he's not upset it didn't work."

"I didn't do anything! I couldn't! I could… I couldn't do anything."

"And I know that hurts."

You shut down. You couldn't think. Johnny and Simon were missing, Roach was dead. All you could do was cling to Price. You closed your eyes and rested on his chest. His heartbeat was racing but the common thump somehow made your body want to stop. So you did.

"Did you get medical attention?" Price asked as he rubbed your shoulder.

"No…" You managed.

"We should get you down there."

You squeezed him tighter, forcing him to stay. He rested again and nodded. "Ok. That's alright Y/N. I'm going to sit here as long as it takes. Ok?"

You didn't respond. You rested again and relaxed. His hands massaged over your aching spine and picked the mud from your throat.

"Captain Price sure is awesome, ain't he Y/N?"

"Yeah. Yeah he is."

"It's like you could go to him about anything."

You sighed deeply and nodded. "He was right… can come to you about anything."

"I'm always here." He reassured.

Haven't been feeling good so I'm leaving this here. Wrote it while feeling out of sorts so it's not edited. I just need a dad hug from Price. I really want to start writing for Price more.

[neeneee]

Say It {Rengoku Kyojuro x fem!reader}

SPOILERS AHEAD!!! If you haven't watched Mugen train and finished the manga do not read below the cut xoxo

Based on Yorushika's 'say it', idk if y'all will enjoy this, but it honestly made me cry while writing it, I hope it does you guys too. :) It's much sadder if you kinda imagine the scenes like in a movie, its very touching, if i say so myself.

3.5k words bro, I'm so proud of myself!!!

“You’re being reckless, (Y/n),” Giyuu admonished the girl, frowning a little at her behavior. “You’re acting impulsively, it’s going to get you killed.”

She shrugged and turned her back on him, walking away from the water pillar; She made no effort to loosen her cramped finger form the hilt of her chipped weapon. The metal of the katana had been stained by the demon’s disgusting blood, but she ignored it, like she’d been ignoring everything for the past five months.

Tomioka had reprimanded her many times for how she’d been acting, throwing herself at danger whenever it presented itself. He knew she was a skilled slayer, and her position was proof enough, but she still had to take time and assess the situation, not throw herself into battle and just hope for it to go well.

His blue eyes watched her march into the butterfly estate; she said nothing and simply allowed them to tend to her wounds, never letting go of her weapon.

(E/c) eyes stared up at the ceiling; She made no sounds of discomfort as the girls cleaned the cuts and gashes all over her body, pouring alcohol over them and bandaging them.

Suddenly a memory flashed in her mind; she could see her beloved’s face and feel the warmth of his skin against hers. The sun over her and the feeling of the breeze softly caressing her back. She could clearly see how his eyes set on her and the emotions they held. The warmth of his gaze enveloped her and lulled her to ease.

“When I return from this mission there is something I must tell you!”

A small smile formed on the girl’s face; her eyes softened at the blonde’s comment.

“Goodbye, Kyojuro-san,” He smiled and patted her head, a habit he had picked up ever since they met. Her lips parted once again to say something, but the words died in her throat, so she shut her mouth again and continued to smile. The man’s back turned and he left; She mentally praised how confident he was, how the security radiated off of him in waves, she could almost see the burning passion he so often spoke about and promised herself that she’d tell him as soon as he returned.

The words were forever left unspoken between them, and there was nothing she regretted more than that.

Her throat burned with unreleased sobs as she watched his image slowly fade into nothingness, the perpetual state she found herself in ever since that night. She had tried to forget the words he’d told her before his departure, they represented another weight in her heart, an incognita that would never be solved. She was left with the burden of every story, now forced to live and deal with every memory on her own, no one to share it with. Part of her knew what he wanted to say, but she needed to hear him say it.

Surely, on the last day of her life, remorse will be pulling at her and berating her for everything she didn’t say, every word that didn’t spill out of her mouth and into his ears. Now, the three words danced around her mind, scolding her for not letting them out and mocking her for being a coward.

Her limbs twitched and trembled, as if bearing a weight too big for her frail body. Faith had laughed in her face, it took all her hopes by the throat and mocked her, it mocked her for being stupid. For not accepting that this is the destiny of the demon slayers; a destiny written the moment they took the oath, they were to die for the good of humanity, for the greater good. Every dead slayer was a step closer to succeeding and even if it didn’t seem like it, they were making progress.

So why couldn’t she accept that fate, why was she trying to reject destiny, just who does she think she is?

The katana finally fell out of the grasp of her clenched finger, startling the girls working around her. Her weak hands rose to cover her face and she cried into them, not caring if anyone saw her. This had been the first time she cried since her crow hesitantly told her the unfortunate news of the flame hashira’s departure.

She’d finally come to terms with the fact that for months she refused to believe, convincing herself she was being forced to sleep through a horrible nightmare, that some cruel higher force was obligating her to sleep through the night and to live a life without him. And then the anger laced with guilt gripped at her heart, weaving rotten thoughts into her head.

She remembered the boys sent on the mission with him, and all the passengers of the train and even the children used by one of the demons.

Why had everyone but him returned? Why was she forced to see everyone nursed back to health while her Kyojuro was dead? Why?

The memories flowed into her unwilling mind, and she started to remember everything she had forcibly forgotten in hopes of curing her own heart and carrying on. Her heart and mind fought a useless battle, one to feed her delusion and empty dreams. Her heart yearned for a note to be left at her door, ‘let’s meet tomorrow morning’. The notes Kyojuro had a habit of slipping under her door whenever he didn’t want to disturb her but wished to communicate with her.

She knew he was dead, but still.

A sad laugh escaped her lips and her arms dropped to her sides, she continued to stare at the ceiling and hoped he wasn’t watching her from wherever he was, not wanting him to ever witness how truly pathetic she was, how she wasn’t as strong as he had thought she was; Surely, he would call her stubborn and beg her to move on, but how could she? She couldn’t be at peace knowing that she felt just as he did but never let him know.

Everything would’ve been so much easier if he’d just put it into words, say it loud enough for her to hear him, not expect her heart to just understand whatever he had tried to convey through actions. If she ever saw him again, even if in a dream, she’d scream at him and at everyone willing to listen, how Rengoku Kyojuro was the love of her life.

The days passed in a blur, until they became months, until she found herself standing in a mansion, growing desperate as the walls twisted and turned to a demon’s will. Again, her heart numbed and the grip on her katana tightened. She stared at the tattooed demon disintegrate out of his own will, and anger bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. A scream formed at the back of her throat, and she let it go freely, Tanjiro and Tomioka cringed at the guttural wails escaping the woman’s lips, before she fell to her knees. Tears mixed with the blood on her face, her free hand clawed at her face in a desperate attempt to wake herself up from this horrible nightmare.

Tanjiro looked at Giyuu’s knowing eyes in confusion, expecting an explanation, but the water pillar remained silent and stared at the girl. He didn’t have the heart to tell him about her and how she loved the flame pillar, about how she’d bow to kill the demon who took him from her. He understood her frustration, despite being beheaded, the creature decided not to die and instead chose to part on its own terms, a fate he did not deserve.

“(L/n)-san, please pull yourself together, this is not over!”

His words seemed to calm her, but the look in her eyes was chilling, and Tanjiro could smell the array of emotions she’d been feeling. Anger, sadness, loneliness and longing. Before they could go to her, the room shifted once again, and she was gone.

Her katana slashed through every demon she came across with a vengeance, her movements were impatient and out of control. The memories of the blonde raced through her mind and blinded her further, she searched for Muzan through the mansion, confident that she’d kill him, the cause of her misfortune. The death of her parents, her siblings, Shinobu, Rengoku.

The crow announcing the death of Tokito and Sanemi’s brother only fueled her anger further, as she rampaged through the building, killing anything that came into her path. “Muzan has revived, Pillars must gather at once!” She skidded to a halt and followed the crow, once again, she found herself in the presence of Giyuu and Tanjiro. Muzan’s figure also became clear, and he looked nothing as he did before, she had never seen him very clearly, but he looked nothing like what she remembered from that night.

Her mouth dried and the hairs on the back of her neck stood, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“(Y/n), Tanjiro,” Tomioka warned sternly, holding his arms out to stop them both. “Calm down.”

“Persistent.” Was the first thing he said, looking at the trio like scum. “You’re all seriously persisten and it bores me. It sickens me from the bottom of my heart. Whenever you open your mouth you only remember that one dumb notion that you can avenge your parents, kids, siblings. You’ve all survived, that should be enough for you.”

They all stared in disbelief at his monologue, how he undermined their feelings, their loss. He spoke about their loved ones as if they were a nuance and they should be glad they’d been exterminated. (Y/n)’s blood boiled at the sight of him, the initial fear had bubbled into pure wrath. The emotion sunk its fangs into her heart and darkened it, clouding her judgment and consciousness.

“So, your family got slaughtered, what’s the problem here? Think of yourself lucky for surviving and go back to the way you were living before.”

“What… what are you saying?” Tanjiro was the only one to speak, putting into words what they all wanted to ask.

“Think of it this way, being killed by me is like a calamity. You don’t need to think hard about it,” His tone changed, as if he was making fun of them. “Wind, rain, volcanoes, earthquakes. No one swears revenge on a natural disaster, no matter how many lives it takes.” He continued to ramble on his nonsense, uncaring of the boiling anger growing within the people standing before him. Tanjiro spoke, but the woman couldn’t hear him; Her ears were ringing so loudly she could only heart the sound of her own heartbeat, a coldness spread through her body replacing the initial heat that had consumed her.

A cloud of haze settled over her eyes, and she attacked indiscriminately. Her brain and muscles weren’t in sink, her body was acting out of survival instinct, rage and impulse. She delivered attack after attack, trying to do as much damage as she could to his body, but everything was failing. Kanroji, Giyuu and Obanai were also trying their hardest, nothing seemed to be working. No matter how many breaths he received nothing was causing lasting damage to him.

Even when the building shifted, and the pressure became too much, she continued to try to move towards Muzan. The image of her mother and father calling to her, her siblings cheering on her, Kanae and Shinobu asking her to be strong flashed before her eyes and she couldn’t allow herself to be defeated.

“The night is beautiful.”

‘Fight!’ The voice of her mother rang in her ears, causing her to frown.

“Huh?”

‘It’s not over, fight!’ Her father urged.

“(L/n)-san!”  Tanjiro’s voice snapped her out of her daydream, she stood in a hurry shoving rubble off of her. The wood had made numerous cuts and scrapes on her legs and arms, but she ignored everything and pushed forward.

She pushed, and pushed, and pushed herself. Every breath form she knew and the one Rengoku taught her. Her repeated them as many times as she needed to. She watched as the younger ones stood infront of them, receiving the attacks from Muzan, dying instantly. Their words and cries rung in her airs, Kanroji screaming at them to stop and Tanjiro’s gasping, so she pushed forward, not stopping when she was severely wounded. When Giyuu’s arm was cut, when Himejima lost his leg, when Obanai lost his eyes, when her hand and eye were gone, she pushed forward, holding her katana in one hand and wrapping part of her haori around her bleeding wrist. Despite Muzan growing angrier and his attacks more vicious and frantic, she pushed herself.

Her vision clouded and she fell to the ground, not strong enough to hold her body. She could hear Kanroji’s and Obanai’s whispers of love, promising each other to meet in a different life and love each other properly; She felt no jealousy, instead her aching heart was filled with peace and slowly, she drifted to sleep.

She felt her mother’s arms wrapped around her; the rest of her family followed. Tears flowed freely and she hugged them back, allowing herself to be pulled on to her knees.

“(Y/n)-san?”

Slowly, her eyes opened, and she gasped; Slowly she pulled herself away from her family and ran to him; Rengoku’s smile never faltered, his eyes held the same intensity as they ever did, and he was clad in his priced slayer uniform. With no doubt or restraint, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close to her.

“I missed you, Kyojuro-san.”

The words tumbled out of her mouth with no hesitation; his embrace tightened around her, feeling the tears seep onto his clothes. She sobbed loudly into his chest, refusing to let go of him, desperately searching for the sound of his heartbeat.

“Would you like to have a date with me?” He smiled, his hands rested on her shoulder, and he separated her from himself, which she reluctantly allowed. “That is what I wanted to say that day, but I decided to use that trip to build enough courage to let you know.”

“I already knew, but I needed you to say it properly.”

His laugh echoed in the garden they stood in, and she laughed along with him. When his laughter died down, his lips set a kiss on the top of her head.

“You should go back now.”

“What? No! I’m happy here!”

“It’s not your time, (Y/n).”

“I’ll search for you, in every life, as long as it takes!”

His smile widened and she was pulled away, she desperately struggled to stay, reaching out to them. Her siblings waved at her goodbye, as did her parents. She fought on, trying to stay a little while longer, her family turned to walk away, but he was still there, staring at her. Despair built within her with every inch of distance growing between them.

“Say it! Kyojuro, say it properly!”

“I love you, (Y/n)-san!”

“I love you, too, Kyojuro!” She screamed; tears started to flow once again but she made no effort to wipe them away, continuing to fight. “More, more, say it!”

“I love you; I love- “

Her eye snapped open to the glowing sun, the sun she could feel but not see; The kakushi around her cheered, happy they hadn’t lost another member. A smile formed on her face, despite the pain she was feeling, and her vision being gone, she smiled.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine now, I heard you wear an eyepatch now,” (Y/n) joked, still holding the stick that had been given to her by Aoi. “Mind giving me one?”

“You’d look real flamboyant in it.” Tengen answered, ruffling her hair with his one hand. “I never got to give you my condolences, after Rengoku.”

“Thank you, Uzui-san.”

“Is this (Y/n)-san?” A foreign voice asked, she didn’t recognize that person, it seemed to be a boy but she' couldn’t see 'd never heard him before.

“Ye’, I’ll leave you two to it, M’gonna visit Kamado-kun. Bye, (Y/n)-chan.”

“Bye, Tengen.”

“Uh-uhm, my name is Rengoku Senjuro and this is my father, Rengoku Shinjuro,” The boy spoke again, she perked up at the mention of their names. Now she knew, they were Kyojuro’s family. “We heard you and my brother were a couple, so we wanted to thank you for taking care of my brother. when we couldn't.”

The man said nothing but patted her head once again. “You would’ve made a beautiful bride for my son.”

“I-“ She muttered, trying to find the words, Shinjuro smiled weakly as he noticed the bandages around her eyes start to dampen. “We never got to be a couple…”

“It’s okay, nee-san, father decided that you’re a Rengoku now!” The boy exclaimed, setting a ring in her trembling hands. “Tengen-san told us the whole story, if nii-san loved you so much, he would surely want you to have this.”

She smiled and nodded, hugging the metal to her chest.

“Can you take me to Kamado Tanjiro’s room?”

The boy took her hand in his and helped her out of bed, she followed both men to the boy’s room, she didn’t know how many people were there, but it seemed like the room was crowded. Kyojuro’s father seemed to be reluctant, so it took her and Senjuro to pull him into the room, with Tengen encouraging him to enter.

Senjuro’s grip on her hand loosened, she could hear Tanjiro and his sister giggling. She allowed Shinjuro and the boy to speak, before she asked any questions or said anything. She didn’t even notice he was fighting with the late hashira’s emblem, she internally scolded herself for being so enraged that she didn’t notice her surroundings.

“Eh, Kamado-kun,” She finally uttered, the room went silent, and she could feel everyone’s gaze on her. “Thank you for being by Kyojuro’s side when he- he…”

“(Y/n)-san, I’m sorry for not being able to do more,” The boy apologized, but before she could protest, he continued. “I never got the chance to give you his message; He asked me to tell you that there’s a gift for you in his room.”

“How fitting…” The woman smiled as she felt the details of the kanzashi, she could feel the little flames shaped ornaments hanging from a pin; They made a pleasant little sound when they moved. She pinned it to her hair and smiled, imagining how they looked. It must’ve looked strange with her purple kimono -Senjuro had told her the color- with the yellow and orange flames, but she didn’t care.

(L/n) (Y/N) wore that kanzashi until the day of her death, with her a short and strenuous breath she uttered his name and the words she meant to tell him all those years ago. With a smile she let out her last breath, knowing she’d meet him again, soon. Nothing she’d done had been in vain, and even if she hadn’t gotten the story she wished for, she was grateful for the one she got, even the sad and painful moments of it.

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself, Toujuro-kun.” (Y/n) Scolded the boy, who seemed to have too much energy despite only sleeping a few hours.

“I know, but I just get so focused that I don’t even notice the time,” The boy said, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “Dad keeps having to slap me.”

“That’s scary.” She shuddered, sitting beside the boy, handing him a bento-box. “But he’s probably just concerned.”

“I guess so.” He laughed, gladly taking the box, accidentally brushing his hand with hers.

They stared at each other for a moment before looking away, red as beets. A familiar feeling settled in their chests; it was foreign yet nostalgic. The girl stared at him with a look he couldn’t describe.

Toujuro and (Y/n) had known each other their entire lives, and she had taken it upon herself to feed his almost insatiable appetite, and he would help her with her history homework. They had been inseparable from the moment they laid eyes on each other, and no one had been able to pull them apart. They threw monumental tantrums the moment their parents even mentioned them attending different middle-schools.

“I feel like I met you before, Toujuro-kun.”

“We’ve known each other since we were babies…”

“No, like- like in another life.”

“(Y/n)-san-“ He cut himself off, blushing profusely. She waited for him, expectantly. She silently urged him to continue, even though deep down she knew what he was about to say.

“Say it out loud.” she ordered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Eh?” Toujuro looked close to combustion, she’d never seen him that red in her life. “Wha-what?”

“Say it, properly.” She said once more, she could see him gulp and take a deep breath.

“I love you, (Y/n)-chan!” He exclaimed, startling a few of the people around them, but he didn’t seem to care at the moment, all of his attention was on her. “Would you like to go out with me?” She didn’t know if he meant for it to be so loud, and despite the embarrassment she was feeling, she nodded with a small smile.

“See you on Friday, at Obanai-san’s restaurant.”

 His smile widened and he nodded. Finally, something inside her felt right, like she was complete at last.

[lizardperson]

come all sufferers

part 6: to raise morale [on ao3]

fandom: fallout new vegas characters: female courier/original male character rating: e cw: wound care, oral sex (not at the same time :P ) wc: 862 prompts: wound care for @sweetspicybingo

[hurt/comfort bingo masterlist]

---

Gabriel flinched, despite his best efforts.

"Will you hold still, you stubborn old man," Mika scolded him, continuing with her work. He was lying on the bed in their Novac motel room, partially undressed, while she was picking pieces of buckshot out of his side with a pair of tweezers.

"I'm trying, damnit." He took another sip from his bottle of scotch to numb the pain. "You sure you know what you're doing there?"

"You sure you want to sass me while I'm digging around your insides?" she replied dryly. "Or I can get Strauss up here, if you'd rather have her do it?"

"If you want to get rid of me, just say so." They both chuckled. No, the resident 'doctor' was the last person he wanted to do this job - she had a certain reputation among the locals.

Mika continued tending to his wounds in silence for a while, then she spoke again. "You did good, saving No-bark's ass."

He sighed, rubbing his face. "That guy is going to get himself killed soon, if he doesn't learn to shut up."

"Yeah, but not today. Thanks to you."

The strange old man somehow had gotten into a fight with a duo of skittish caravan guards earlier and would not stop accusing them of whatever his current obsession was - probably communists again, or ghosts, possibly both. Gabriel tried to intervene, with little success, and ultimately ended up with a few bruised ribs and a bunch of lead from a shotgun graze in his side. But at least No-bark got out of the whole thing unscathed… Not that Gabriel personally cared much for that guy, but Mika liked him for some reason, as usual collecting the weirdos, misfits, and outsiders like bottlecaps. She probably would have never forgiven him if he hadn't stepped in.

Eventually, after poking and prodding him for a while longer, Mika had removed all the pieces. She put a healing poultice on the affected area, numbing the pain somewhat, and bandaged him up. While she went to clean herself, he laid back down on the bed, exhausted from the whole unnecessary experience, and closed his eyes. A nap sounded like a nice idea now.

"Thanks for patching me up," he murmured when he heard her return.

"You're welcome." She was quiet for a few moments. "You look like shit."

Gabriel chuckled. "I can imagine."

Mika straddled his lap very carefully and leaned down to kiss him. "Guess I'll have to make you feel better," she whispered while slowly kissing along his jaw.

"Don't think I'm in any condition for that," he objected. Her soft touch felt nice, but he was definitely too tired for sex.

"I'll be gentle. Just relax, okay?" How could he possibly say No to that…

She steadily worked her way down, kissing his neck, his chest, and the non-bandaged parts of his stomach, careful not to hurt him. Gabriel leaned back into the pillow, eyes closed, and just focused on her warm breath on his skin and the softness of her lips. It was a welcome distraction from the pain - she was right, this was exactly what he needed now.

Mika reached his groin, still gently kissing every inch of his skin, and he could feel himself getting hard. She freed his cock from his underwear, and all he wanted was to sink into her. Of course she had other plans, and just continued teasing him, licking around the tip and driving him absolutely wild in the process, very much on purpose.

They had been sleeping together on and off for almost ten years now, and while sex with her had been great from the very beginning, it only got better over time. They knew each other's bodies so well, knew exactly how to push all the right buttons, and part of him never wanted to fuck another woman again.

She finally took his hard cock into her mouth, very slowly and deliberately, inch by inch.

"Fuck, Mika," he groaned, burying a hand in her hair. Gabriel was losing himself in the sensation, forgetting his aching body and just feeling her mouth for who knows how long. Sheer bliss.

"Getting close," he warned her eventually, voice hoarse. That prompted her to pick up the pace just a little bit, and even take him in deeper and deeper, finally sending him over the edge. The tension from the orgasm caused a sharp pain in his fresh wounds. Worth it, though.

Gabriel needed a moment to collect himself again, meanwhile Mika moved back up to kiss him gently. He could taste himself on her lips, and if it weren't for his state right now, he would return the favor all too gladly. She snuggled into his arms on his non-injured side and they both enjoyed a few moments of silence together.

"So… did that raise your spirits a bit?" she eventually asked, grinning at him.

"Sure raised something," he chuckled, pulling her closer and kissing her head. Now he really needed that nap, though.