#nothing wrong just another checkup

[hell-litwrites]

I've held on,

Stayed strong.

.

Just one more you said,

But now I've lost count,

It's all red,

And I can't afford the amount.

[hearteyesdiaz]

.

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Dreamers | Rhysand & Daughter!Reader

Summary: After Madja is away in business for two months, he has to find a healer to replace her in her absence, which happens to be you, his bastard daughter, and unbeknownst to him, Azriel’s mate.

Word Count: ~ 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, bad family relationship, mentions of prostitution, implied sex, but it ends happy don’t worry (PLATONIC BETWEEN RHYS AND READER)

A/N: This request was like perfectly matching up with my daydreams so thanks !! hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Throughout all your years of education and schooling, there was one truth you knew without having to be told.

You were unwanted. A mistake.

You’d always known that and hadn’t cared much for the first few years of your life. Your mother had been a prostitute, and your father had accidentally knocked her up. Whether it had been a mistake, or your mother had purposefully not used a contraceptive just to have a tie to the High Lord was still in debate, but you didn’t care much anymore.

He had tried to raise you, probably not wanting you to grow up a whore like your mother, but been trapped Under the Mountain, leaving you alone, your only real ties to him were through Cassian, who didn’t seem to care that you were a bastard child or your circumstances.

He felt like more of a father, sometimes.

You’d gotten your apartment in Velaris, working as an herbalist, and something of a medic, using the mingled magic of your mother and father to heal people. Some would say the job didn’t match your sometimes uncaring and blunt, even bitter demeanor. But you didn’t care what they said, and you never had. It paid the bills, and let you live relatively comfortably in your little shop when not in the apartment.

You had heard the rumors of Feyre, the Cursebreaker who’d freed your father, and by extension all the other High Lords from Under the Mountain. You’d seen the female and your father together, walking the streets happy as could be together, openly proclaiming their love, not to mention their baby.

After he’d been liberated, you hadn’t tried to seek him out, and he hadn’t with you. It was for the best, probably. You wanted nothing to do with his perfect little happy family and Inner Circle, you didn’t belong there, and you had no desire to. You hadn’t needed a father to grow up, and you didn’t need one now.

However, Madja was away on business, leaving you as the only other healer in Velaris capable of giving checkups to their child. It was for that reason, you suspected, that he invited you to a “family” dinner as if he’d ever treated you like family.

“It’ll be alright.”

Your mate, Azriel, spoke to you as he got ready to escort you into the House of Wind, where they wanted to have dinner that night. You hadn’t bothered to dress up nice or fancy, only donning some loose pants and a shirt, clothes you would usually work in.

Azriel had been your mate for nearly three years, having secretly accepted the bond, and decided to keep the relationship private for now, to let things settle down for now, and now had stretched into one year after another, until you were both content to live in the shadows.

“You know how I feel about them.”

You replied, sighing before quickly composing yourself at the clear mix of emotions on his face. His urge to defend his family and to empathize with you warring with each other in his mind.

You stepped forward, settling into his arms as you felt the shadows wrap around you, the environment shifting as your eyes remained open, and then you were there, the door to the House of Wind standing right in front of you. It felt wrong, to come back here after completely cutting off contact, only to be used for your healing abilities and medical knowledge for a half-sibling you’d never met.

Glancing over at Azriel, he gave a little nod, and you opened the door, setting foot inside the home and immediately confronted with the scents of multiple people. You could recognize some, Mor, Rhys, Cassian, maybe Amren? Only Feyre, Rhys, and Cassian were seated at the table, waiting for you. You’d heard news that Mor was visiting her private estate, and Amren off god knows where.

Expression as ticked off and blunt as you were feeling, you walked in, taking a seat as a plate of food magically appeared in front of you.

Rhys’ gaze ran up and down you, noting your clothes, simple cheap ones to get the job done, the herbs caked under your long nails, the calluses on your hands from handling your mortar and pestle so often, the way you didn’t smile at him or any of his family, or the same impassive and slightly annoyed look on your face. Something briefly appeared in his gaze, before being gone just as easily. Good. You had enough to deal with without any family problems.

“Hello, Y/N, I’d like you to meet -“

He spoke, voice sounding as confident as usual, but with a hint of a crack, as if testing the waters as he gestured towards Feyre.

“Your mate and son. I’m well aware.”

Your voice wasn’t like his, not with the silver tongue he had, tone blunt and straightforward. You didn’t refer to them by name on purpose, to make it seem like you hadn’t even cared to follow the news about him and his life. Like you were better. Feyre cast a sympathetic glance at Rhys, one that made your temper flare.

He shouldn’t get to be comforted for his past mistakes coming to bite him in the ass.

Cassian remained silent, exchanging glances with Azriel across the table. This was bound to happen eventually, and the General didn’t try any of his usual tactics to lighten the mood.

Rhys swallowed, opening his mouth to speak, probably to try and soothe you or make you less openly hostile, but you interrupted him.

“What do you want?”

You asked, tone blunt and cold, detached almost if it weren’t for the anger you held against him. He tried to hide his wince but failed to do it completely. That made you feel a bit better, at least. A sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. His expression sobered into one of resigned seriousness.

“Our healer, Madja, will be away on business for two months. You’re the most qualified to take her place if you would.”

He said. Feyre seemed a bit uncomfortable with the thought of you being the personal healer for their family for two months, and you didn’t blame her, considering your demeanor and history, but it still pissed you off.

“How much will you pay?”

You asked blandly, making it clear that the job meant nothing to you to get closer to them at all. All that mattered was the pay. Your mind was already calculating the costs, advantages, and disadvantages of taking the deal. He stiffened slightly, another small victory.

He stated a price, it was high, ridiculously so, in fact, but you weren’t complaining. Money was money. Even if you got it from your half-family.

“Sure.”

You said simply, still not touching your dinner. The food was tantalizing, but the thought of sending a message even more so. You wouldn’t dine at this table, not like how you had done so many years ago. Though your throat was parched, you didn’t touch the glass of water.

“Is that all?”

You asked, your mint green eyes, the same shade as your mother’s, meeting his violet gaze. Pure indifference was all you were determined to give him. After he’d forgotten about you, too obsessed with his mate and new child, the replacements, to bother with you.

“I was hoping you’d stay for dinner.”

He said quietly, a hint of pleading in his gaze. You felt a pang in your chest at that but shoved it down as you got up from your seat, not tucking it in. They could look at the seat pushed out after you left, and think about you. It would hopefully plague his mind like he plagued yours.

“Keep hoping. See where it gets you.”

You said dryly, walking out of the kitchen, out of that goddamned sentient House that remembered you even now, how it knew your favorite food, just the way you knew your mother had cooked it so long ago, or the way you’d loved the water from that river out back, one you still visited now.

You heard the harsh scratching of a chair against the wooden floor and footsteps, and before you could winnow away, you found that you couldn’t move.

Not metaphorically or rhetorically, you literally could not move your own body, and that’s when you became all too aware of the presence in your mind when your barriers had slipped because of your irritation. Your father finally released you as he stood behind you, you whirled to look at him, seething.

“Stay out of my head.”

You hissed, shoving him away from you even as he gave you a begging gaze.

“Please, I’m sorry, let me try, just give me one chance to be your father, one?”

He begged, voice cracking with desperation you’d never seen before, and it would’ve weirded you out a little if you weren’t frozen in place, throat even dryer now as you tried to think of something to say.

Despite how you denied it and wanted to be cold and vengeful towards him, deep down, that wasn’t what you wanted. Maybe a relationship with him wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice to leave you behind, he’d been kidnapped Under the Mountain, and been so busy putting his Court back together and handling a war that he hadn’t even been able to think about you.

You swallowed, sighing and giving a resigned nod.

“Just..meet me for breakfast tomorrow, I guess. At my apartment. It’s down the block to the right of Rita’s, you’ll know it when you see it.”

As soon as you said it, he pulled you into a gentle hug, feeling you stiffening under his touch. You weren’t the most touchy person with strangers, or people you didn’t know very well at that.

Breakfast tomorrow. Great.

*********************************************************

Az had already been late when he’d arrived at your apartment for the moment, his tedious little schedule for the recent mission already thrown off because of the extra time he’d taken bending you over a counter. Just as he gave you a little kiss on the cheek, opening the door to head out, he ran face-first into Rhys, the only thing stopping the two from kissing being the subtle height advantage Azriel had over his High Lord.

“What -“

Rhys began, and Azriel was gone quicker than you’d ever seen his shadows transport him. You dragged your father in, closing the door behind you.

“He’s my mate and has been for three years, but anyways, breakfast.”

You blurted in a rushed tone as you tried to ignore the obvious thing that had just happened. Rhys ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed, seeming exasperated but not surprised.

“I thought so, Cassian said he’s been coming home smelling like you lately.”

He muttered under his breath as you slipped an oven mitt on, pulling a muffin sheet out of the oven and hissing as the oven brushed against your arm, leaving an angry little red spot. Your father’s eyebrows raised at that, and he walked over and turned your sink to a lukewarm temperature, grabbing you and easily moving you over to it to run the burn under it. Protective instincts were probably already kicking in for him, albeit a bit dusty and not used for anyone other than his new son.

He grabbed a roll of bandaging that was on your counter, from the other night when you’d also accidentally burned yourself while trying to open the oven with your bare feet, hands too busy. The oven-related incidents were getting a bit too often, now. Especially since Azriel threatened to throw the oven out if you didn’t stop getting hurt.

“Thanks.”

You managed to mumble as his slender fingers skillfully wrapped some of it around you, securing it easily. He gave a little nod, slipping an oven mitt on and dumping the muffins out, just shoving them all onto one plate he set on the small table with two chairs, one for you and Az.

He sat down, you sitting across from him, grabbing a muffin and unwrapping it, before just awkwardly eating in silence.

“So..”

You said, swallowing as you tried to think about how weird this conversation would be. He sighed, running his hands through his hair again. It seemed to be a nervous habit of his.

“I’m sorry, for not being there. There was just so much going on, with the war, Amarantha, not to mention Koschei…”

His voice trailed off at the mention of them.

“I..get it. You were busy with all that.”

“I still should’ve been there. You’re my daughter, and you grew up without a father because of me.”

You swallowed, trying to bite back the emotions that rose because of this conversation. He seemed to notice, violet eyes softening as his chair scooted a bit closer to yours, wanting to comfort you but unsure how to do so without further upsetting you. You suddenly felt bad for all your remarks and attitude earlier. He’d been trying, you hadn’t.

“We can start over if you want. Just father and daughter?”

You nodded, sniffling slightly. At that tiny sniffle, he couldn’t resist anymore, getting up and pulling you into his arms. This time, you didn’t stiffen, didn’t struggle, or try to pull away, you just cried into his chest in a way you usually only could do with Az. He held you close, hand soothingly rubbing your back.

“I think I’d like that.”

You managed to choke out as the tears dried up, and you looked up into his violet eyes, now noticing the golden flecks in them, like stars you could wish on.

Stars promising hope and a future of warmth and acceptance.

Tags:

@judeduartewannbe

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 28-Gynecologist!Miguel x Nervous!Reader (Teasing/Fingering)

*Requested by reader ;) Also, early update due to working both jobs tmw*

        It was that time of year again for you. It was always a nerve racking experience since you always worried about anything being wrong with you. After a long shower, you changed into a fresh pair of clothing, ready for your appointment. The fear of you smelling or sweating or anything for that matter made you nervous. It was just a regular checkup. Nothing changed from last year, so there was going to be nothing wrong.

        Besides, your friend, Lyla, worked at the gynecologist as an assistant. She always helped you calm down. Lyla even tried to set you up with one of her friends. A handsome man named, Miguel O'Hara. You had dated him a few times and found him very attractive. If only you weren't so timid. During those dates you barely uttered a word, just a small squeak here or there. You were honestly surprised that he even asked you out a few more times. 

        You were starting to get comfortable with him. Perhaps on your next date you could ask him about his job and his likes. Miguel was so kind. He was defiantly your type. You even thought about him at night. Gasping lowly, you slapped your cheeks. Now was not a good time to think about Miguel. It would be embarrassing to be wet for your checkup.

"(Y/n)~ Come on in!" Lyla chirped, motioning you inside.

        You took your regularly deep breathes, slowly following Lyla's lead. You friend gave you a quick hug before leading you into a private room. Lyla hummed as she closed the door and asked the routine questions.

"Alright, and did the front desk girl tell you about the new gyno? I hope so,"

"S-She did. I was okay with it being...a male," You whispered, trying to hide your stutter. Lyla just curled her lips into a smile,

"Don't worry, (Y/n)! You'll be perfectly fine! Anyway, how's it going with Miguel?" She asked, changing the topic. Your eyes lit up,

"T-Thank you again for giving me his n-number! He...He is really kind...and sweet. He doesn't r-rush me when I try...try to talk to him," You explained, "He doesn't mind me texting him....instead."

"I told you he was a good one!" Lyla grinned from ear to ear, "He likes you a lot too~"

"H-He does?!"

        Lyla chuckled at your flustered expression. Upon hearing a knock at the door, Lyla hummed as she got you ready. You were getting nervous again. She helped you relax before opening the door.

"Hello, Miss-(Y/n)??" Miguel paused as he stared at you. You squeaked in response before turning to Lyla.

"Oh, totally forgot to mention that Miguel is your new doctor~" She said with a wide grin, "Now I know I'm supposed to stay in here with you both, buuuuuut you guys know each other~ Bye!"

        Just like that, Lyla left both you and Miguel alone. Your face was a million shades of red as you tried to fit your gown, recalling that you were naked in front of the man you were dating. Miguel cleared his throat as he took a seat by the computer. He glanced over your files before turning towards you.

"This must be awkward," He started and read your body language, "Would you like your phone to text me?"

        You nodded violently in response. Miguel resisted a chuckle and went to your pile of clothes on the separate chair and looked for your phone. He glanced at your panties, restraining himself. He gave you the phone and grabbed his, waiting for your response. A smile on his face as he watched you. You were so cute. Someone worth his time. Someone worth his love. Miguel would do anything to keep you happy and relaxed.

'Did you know I was going to be your patient?' You texted him. Miguel glanced at the message,

"No, I just started here two days ago. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I can get another doctor." He replied. You hesitated before typing,

'No, it's okay. I was just surprised. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.'

"Not at all," Miguel chuckled lowly and stood from his seat, "Just let me know when you want me to start. I'll take as much time as you need."

        Your eyes soften as you looked at Miguel. You remembered when you first met him. He was so tall and seemed so threatening. Putting your phone to the side, you played with your fingers as you took a deep breathe. You looked into Miguel's eyes and gave him a nod, allowing him to start.

        Miguel was slow and gentle. He asked you to raise your right arm before moving your gown. He watched your facial expressions, making sure that everything was okay. You whimpered quietly as his large hand took ahold of your breast, gently massaging it to check for any lumps. Normally, you would just tremble as the doctor checked you, but this was different. This was Miguel touching you. Something you only dreamed of. Not only was he making you shake from nervousness, but also giving you those dirty thoughts.

"All good on this side, now for the other." Miguel's hand gently trailed your back as he repeated the process on your other breast, "You're shaking, are you okay?"

"Y-Yes," You whispered lowly.

        You inhaled deeply as you tried not to focus on Miguel touching you. He was just doing his job. So what if his large hands felt good as they massaged your breasts. So what if he was more gentle with you than your previous doctors. So what if he smelled amazing? You were here for a check up, not to fantasize on him railing you. It wasn't like you were up for such a task anyway.

"Alright, you're all good there, no lumps. Now for the main part, just let me know when you're ready by propping your legs up for me, okay?" Miguel told you, rubbing your shoulder.

        God, he was so fine. You gave him a nod, watching as he got his gloves and tool ready. Now this, you were embarrassed about. You always hated this part. You could feel your heart about to leap out of your chest. Miguel was about to look at your pussy. You haven't even kissed the man yet and you were about to skip a bunch of steps. It was hard to think about his job now. All you could focus on was Miguel examining your wet pussy.

"U-Um," You gulped, reaching for your phone. Miguel handed it to you,

"Want some water?" He offered.

'No, I'm just...please be gentle with me. I know this is your job, but I can't help but feel even more nervous since we're dating.' You texted him. Miguel looked at his phone and chuckled lowly,

"Have I ever told you how cute you are?" He said, switching his glove, "I won't judge. How could I?" He gave you that sweet smile you loved.

        Nodding once more as he stole your breathe away, you got ready. You placed your feet in the little prompt set up they have and spread your legs. A shiver ran up your spine as the cold air hit your pussy. Miguel tighten his gloves and sat on his chair, rolling towards you. You bit your lower lip as he sat directly in front of your cunt, spreading your legs out even more. This was just a check up. Just a check up and nothing more.

        Miguel withheld a groan as he noticed your cunt already wet. Despite your nervousness, it seemed like you were practically excited for him to be looking at you, to be touching you. This was turning him on. Normally, Miguel would get these over with since every other girl would not hesitate to spread their legs for him. Miguel was loving this change of pace. He was loving everything you did. Miguel wanted to hear your voice. A voice only for his ears.

"Alright, let me know if anything feels uncomfortable. I'm just going to feel around for anything, okay?"

"O-Okay," You stuttered.

        Miguel had to bite his cheek. He proceeded to enter a finger inside you, with holding a groan at how tight you were. So wet and so tight, just for him. As he felt around your velvet walls for anything strange, Miguel could not help but hear a quiet whimper coming from you. He glanced at your expression, watching as you closed your eyes and biting your lower lip. God, Miguel was going to lose his patience with you. He knew that you were only like this because it was him. Lyla had told him about how difficult it was for other doctors to even touch your breasts. The fact that you were letting him do this was just so tempting.

"How are you doing?" Miguel asked. You gasped lowly as he pressed his finger up,

"F-Fine," You said, shaking from his touch.

        Miguel's finger was just exploring your insides for anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't like he was actually fingering you. However, his finger was so thick and it was making you hot. You tried to think of something else, but the idea of Miguel doing more was turning you on. You whimpered lowly as you felt yourself clench against his finger. Why did these thoughts have to come now? Miguel was just doing his job and here you were getting horny.

"I'm going to insert the tool now. It will feel uncomfortable for only a second, okay?" He told you.

        You just nodded in response and followed his orders. Once he finished with the tool, Miguel approached you. He was so close. Miguel took his gloves off, bringing his hand to your cheek,

"You did so good for me. Are you okay?" He asked you. 

"Y-Yes," You told him and rubbed your legs slightly, "U-Um...S-Sorry...But...I..."

        Miguel raised a brow and read your body language. Your perky nipples and the juices that were streaming down your cunt were just all so tempting. He glanced into your eyes that screamed, 'fuck me'. Knowing that he couldn't or he would lose his job, Miguel inhaled deeply. He leaned down to peck your lips,

"Can I just say, that you are so goddamn tempting?" He whispered, enjoying your expressions, "I know what you want, and I can't give it to you here...But I can help release that tension."

"P-Please?" You nearly squeaked.

        Miguel nearly cussed. He returned to his chair, sitting directly in front of your poor, lonely cunt. He leaned forward and blew against it, watching you twitch. A smile formed against his lips as he entered two fingers this time. He stood up and pumped his fingers inside you, watching your face contort in pleasure. You were so tight for him. So needy. 

"I want to hear your voice later tonight, could you do that for me?" Miguel whispered in your ear as his fingers pumped into you.

"Hah...hah....Y-Yes....I can," You whimpered a soft moan, raising your hips slightly. 

        Miguel hummed happily and curled his fingers right at your sweet spot. Your body arched as you grinded your hips against his hand. Miguel quickly swallowed your moans with a kiss, not wanting anyone to hear you. As much as he wanted to hear those sweet moans, he knew that if he did, he would fuck you right here and now. Feeling your pussy tighten against his fingers, Miguel curled his fingers again. You held onto him as you reached your orgasm.

"That's it. That's my good girl," Miguel whispered, removing his fingers and licking them, "Taste so sweet. I'll have to reward you later,"

"M-Mig," You whispered, panting softly as you sat up. You reached for you phone, 'Want to come over to my place after work?' You texted him. Miguel glanced at his phone,

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." He leaned down to kiss you again, "Get dressed. I'll see you later."

        You smiled softly as Miguel left. Quickly putting your clothes back on, you noticed that your panties were missing. Your face turned a million shades of red, knowing that Miguel must have swiped them. You whined softly before grabbing your phone.

'Please bring my panties back!'

'Sure, when I see you tonight.'

[tarrynightss]

How they are during your pregnancy + how they are with the baby

Pairings: Jake, Quaritch, Tonowari, Tsu’tey x fem!reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, childbirth (nothing graphic), fluff

Jake Sully

With Jake the pregnancy would definitely be a planned thing. He does his best to prepare himself, talking to Norm and anyone else he can find that has a good pair of brains. He wants to know exactly what to do in every situation that might occur, even reading up on it. It’s cute and you are glad that he’s doing his best to protect both you and the baby, but after you are a few months in, you almost want to rip his head off when he asks “Does your back ache? What is your pain level on a scale of 1 to 10?” yet again.

He’s constantly fussing over you, especially when you are getting close to your due date. The regular checkups from the human scientists have your Tsahík fuming, but Jake wants to make sure all ground is covered. He’ll take all the death stares if that means you and the baby are healthy.

Jake almost starts running circles like he’s in looney tunes when the birth starts. Another Na’vi has to force him to sit down by your side, and even then his tail is constantly swatting all over the place in anxiousness.

The type to say “god damn!” when he watches the baby being pushed out, making you almost snap his hand in two.

He won’t be able to take his eye off of his child when it’s born, hugging both you and them to his chest. He’ll kiss your sweaty forehead, crying as he tells you how well you did and that he’s so proud of you.

Sorry but when the baby is a few weeks old he definitely pretends to drop it because he thinks it’s funny, earning angry hisses and swats from you.

Will constantly cuddle with the baby when you aren’t holding them, rubbing his nose against their little belly. He’ll also love squishing their cheeks together and playing with their tiny ears, having them make funny faces at you.

Gags at least once when changing a diaper but doesn’t complain, just soldiers through.

Miles Quaritch

Who gave this man another kid?!? You did, and when Miles finds out he almost drops dead. He had just kinda assumed that they had snipped his ability to reproduce away just as they had snipped his ears. Boy was he wrong.

When your stomach starts growing and your urge him to touch it, he does so with much reluctance as he’s scared he might hurt the child. The tiniest hint of movement under his hand makes his ears perk up, and he’ll bend down to lay one against your belly. Na’vi hearing is incredibly good and he hears the thrumming heartbeat of your child instantly. “Our baby,” you whisper and caress over his hair. He repeats it back to you, accepting it a little bit more.

Miles continues telling Spider that you’ve just gotten fat until finally the boy has had enough, clearly seeing that you are pregnant. He gives his dad an earful about how he couldn’t even take care of him, so why the fuck is he having another. A valid point, but Miles tries to tell both himself and Spider that that was human Quaritch, not him. The boy accepts it just because you’ve always been a motherly figure to him, but he shoots Miles glares whenever he comes near.

He does his best to take care of you but this man is not exactly used to being gentle. He’ll cuddle you and rub over your stomach and back, trying to suite your aches. Where he fumbles is when you’ve been up almost all night, puking your insides out, and he dares to complain about his sore back. SORE BACK?!! He’s sleeping on the ground after that.

Strangely enough, as the months progress the pregnancy seems to be what forms you, Spider, and Miles into a true family. Both enjoy putting their hand on your stomach and feeling the baby kick, Spider letting out an excited “wooow!” at the force every time.

Miles starts sharing with Spider the few memories old Quaritch had of him as a baby. “Your head was gigantic,” Miles tell him, staring up into the sky with a grin. Spider laughs out a no, peeking over you to see his father. You lay like this often now, side by side as a family. “Humongous,” Miles doubles down, making you all cackle.

Miles is scared when you give birth, his eyes tightly closed as he holds onto your hand. He knows he doesn’t deserve to have this after all he has done, but lord, please let you and the baby be alright. He holds his breath till finally, he hears the baby’s first cry, his eyes snapping open. Both of you cry as you cradle your child close to your heart.

Suddenly becomes an expert on how to handle babies, constantly telling Spider to be careful with this or that, barely even letting him hold the baby the first few days.

Takes pictures of your child with a leaf hat on or something and finds it absolutely hilarious.

Carries the child everywhere, strapping them to his chest like a real male wife.

Tonowari

The first child born from your union is nothing short of a blessing to him. Even when your stomach is barely noticeable, he constantly touches it and it becomes a comforting feeling for the both of you.

Parades you around in front of the clan like you are the rarest jewel. He’s so, so proud of his beautiful mate, so happy that she’s carrying his child. He wants the whole world to see.

Tonowari constantly gives you massages, not even giving your feet or back the chance to start aching. He was already big on doing so before, but now you aren’t leaving the tent before the morning massages are done.

He’s so supportive and there for you that he goes as far as to hold your hair while you puke. You can scream your hormones out at him all you want and this man will just smile to himself, noting how ferocious you look like this.

Tonowari basically is the midwife during your birth, holding onto your arms as he helps you pace your breathing. When you push he puts his forehead against yours to comfort and support you.

Holds the baby up for the others to see after they’re born, the biggest smile on his face. He won’t stop bragging about his child to anyone who will listen. Every bump or blink is worth a reward in his eyes.

Takes the baby to watch over the ocean, telling them stories about all his adventures. When the baby eventually starts being able to point, he’s absolutely delighted, following to see what their chubby finger is pointing it. Whether it’s a simple barnacle or a fish, Tonowari will tell his child in great detail about whatever peaked their interest.

Tsu’tey

Finally. He has waited so long to have his own family and he’s absolutely overjoyed when he hears the news. He’ll pick you up and spin you around while laughing and cheering, making everyone around you wonder what is going on.

Tsu’tey was always protective of you, but with the pregnancy that gets 10 times worse. He’s constantly hovering over you, never letting you go out alone in the fear you’ll get hurt. You try to assure him you’ll be careful, but that’s not good enough. Too much can happen in a blink of an eye. He simply won’t allow it.

Instantly starts collecting beads for both the baby’s songcord and for their first neck piece, though the second will still have to wait a long time to be worn. He’s just too excited, already fantasizing about all he will teach his child, all the memories they will make.

He talks to the baby every night when the two of you are alone. Tsu’tey lays his head against your belly and tells your child all about his day, but also stories about what he and you have gotten up to in the past. It’s heartwarming to you to just lay back and watch him, chuckling now and then at his words.

Tsu’tey doesn’t just hold your hand during birth, he sits behind you, holding in his lap. He breaths with you as if one, stroking lovingly over your arms and legs as he encourages you to keep going.

Love is a word not strong enough to express what he feels for your child. As soon as their eyes meet, he smiles the brightest he has ever done in his life. The baby is perfect in his eyes, a beautiful mix of the both of you.

He loves sleeping with the baby cuddled up against his chest. At first he was too scared he might crush them, but after you swore you would watch him during those little moment, he gave in. It were the best naps he’s ever had, his heart beating as one with his child. Tsu’tey hadn’t thought he would ever feel this at peace.

[ak319]

(AN: Reader is 13-15, Arthur, 23-24)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, angst, fluff

You watched Arthur’s every move as he settled in, his face weary yet hardened, scrubbing off remnants of dirt and whatever else he’d encountered in the washing barrel. You lowered the clothes you were folding, feeling the slight twinge of nerves as you reached for his stew.

He liked it hot, which meant you had to reheat the pot. You realized you hadn’t eaten all day, but you brushed the thought aside. Taking the bowl in hand, you crossed over to him as he finally sat down, visibly exhausted.

“Here, Arthur." You said softly, extending the bowl to him.

He grunted in response, the closest thing to a “thank you” he would offer, and took it from you, his gaze giving you a quick once-over before returning to his meal. Routine checkup as you called it.

Trying to bridge the silence, you ventured, “So...how was it?”

Arthur barely looked up. “Was what?”

“The job…” You tried not to sound too eager, but the truth was, you were starved for any scrap of conversation, any glimpse into the part of his life that stayed cloaked in secrecy.

“Went well.” He replied curtly, still focused on his food.

A brief silence followed as you fiddled with a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You felt a familiar ache bloom at the base of your skull and then another one at the abdomen, a dreadful sensation. Just then, it hit you, your period was due.

You froze, holding the empty tray as the realization dawned. Arthur looked up, stew mid-bite, and raised a brow at your sudden stillness, your gaze into space.

“What’s got you standin’ there like a ghost?” he muttered.

“Huh? Oh… nothing,” you managed to reply, trying to appear casual, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint flush that had spread across your face.

“Need... anything?”

"Um..." You started pondering which perhaps went on for a minute.

Arthur’s gruff voice interrupted your thoughts. He reached into his pocket and, with a casual flick, tossed a few crumpled bills onto the tray. “Your pocket money. Now, go brew the coffee.”

The whole thing felt like a bad joke. Arthur tossed you a few bucks every so often, calling it "pocket money," like you could waltz into town and buy whatever you wanted. But he was always right there with you whenever you went to the market, keeping a close eye on everything. Or you had to give him the list.

“Uh? Um... th-thanks.”

Arthur's brow furrowed, his gaze sharpening. "What’s wrong with you today? Why are you actin’ weird?”

You forced a chuckle, shaking your head. “I’m fine, actually. You’re the one who is wei-, um looks tired. I’ll get on with the coffee.”

Before he could question you further, you hurried off, trying to shake the unease settling in your stomach. As you set the coffee pot on, you remembered the stew you’d set aside for yourself and turned toward the wagon, only to see Pearson ladling out the last bowl for himself.

A pang of frustration mixed with the ache of hunger, you’d been so careful, setting everything up, and now even that small comfort had slipped through your fingers.

First, the looming sense of dread that seemed to haunt your every step, and now this, a missed meal because Pearson snatched up the last bowl of stew without a second thought. Emotions churned, thick and heavy, clouding your mind as you went about your tasks in a haze.

You delivered Arthur’s damn coffee, scrubbed his dishes clean, and finished up the rest of your chores, all while running on nothing more than stale biscuits and the last dregs of (tea/coffee). Asking others for food? You didn’t want to be seen as Arthur’s sister, the one mooching off his work, asking for scraps, felt cheap, when he practically carried the camp on his shoulders. The thought made your stomach churn with resentment and embarrassment. Yeah, not something a Morgan does. Although in your opinion, you shouldn't be doing anything if he earns the most...but whatever. Asking from your brother? If he found out you skipped lunch. He’d be livid, calling you reckless or worse for not managing the basics, you couldn't handle a scolding at the moment.

Frustration gnawed at you. It wasn't just the hunger, it was the constant grind of chores, endless and thankless, all because you were one of the few women in the camp. Susan wielded her age like a shield, always finding ways to rest while you and Annabelle picked up the slack. But even Annabelle was too busy, neck-deep in whatever business kept her hands clean of the daily tasks. And so, it fell to you.

You flopped onto your cot, hiding your face in the pillow as the pains of hunger and period mixed with a deeper ache, one of loneliness, exhaustion, and memories you could almost taste. You remembered your mother’s gentle hand on your forehead when you were ill, the comforting smell of warm food she’d bring, and the luxury of rest she allowed you. It felt like a distant, lost dream now. Here, rest wasn’t an option, it was a rare privilege you couldn’t afford. Great, now your pillow is also wet with tears.

⋆⋆⋆

You were knee-deep in a mountain of laundry, your temper simmering with each aggressive scrub against the washboard. The clothes bore the brunt of your pent-up frustration, wrung and scrubbed with a vengeance. Suddenly, something light and obnoxious hit the basket, a boy’s underwear. You knew immediately who the culprit was.

"How. Dare. You?" you snapped, eyes narrowing.

John, already a few steps away, stopped and turned, a lazy smirk creeping across his face. "What? You’re the one washing."

"Yes, I am the one washing, you jerk." You grabbed the offending article and chucked it back at him, hitting him square in the face. His eyes widened, and he gasped, genuinely taken aback.

"But I am not washing that!" you said, pointing at the ragged underwear as if it were a symbol of all your grievances. "Those are for you to wash, understand?"

John held the underwear in his hands, clearly bewildered. "What? Why? Is it not… a cloth? And why would I wash it? I’ve got way more important things to do." His voice grated against your headache, every word echoing like a drumbeat in your skull.

"Important huh? Okay. Then let's solve this problem another way."

You could feel your patience unraveling, and, without thinking, you yanked a pair of scissors from your belt and snipped through the fabric with one swift motion.

"Hey! That was one of my two pairs! What the hell is wrong with you?!" he yelped, clutching the scraps as if they were made of gold.

"Then maybe you should think twice before tossing them my way! Now go and cry." you shot back, but the anger and heat were taking their toll. Your vision blurred slightly, the world beginning to spin.

John’s voice rose in protest, but it sounded muffled, distant. You took a step back, steadying yourself on the edge of the wash basin, blinking rapidly to try and clear your head. "Damn heat… and damn you, John…" you muttered, but the words seemed to tangle and drift as darkness crept in at the corners of your vision.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first sight that met you was Ms. Grimshaw, her familiar face creased with concern as she fanned you gently with a worn-out piece of fabric.

"Ah! You are awake, quite the theatrics you put on out there..." Her voice was both exasperated and relieved. You let out a soft groan in response, turning onto your side, trying to escape the brightness of the day that felt too harsh against your feverish skin. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and the heavy weight of your head pressed down against the pillow.

"T-time...?" you managed to croak, the words feeling foreign in your mouth.

"It's four," she replied, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

Your eyes shot open wide in panic. "T-the clothes? I-"

Susan rolled her eyes, cutting you off. "I washed them, don't worry. But tomorrow you gotta do them, got it? And what’s with you tearing that boy’s underwear?"

"Huh...? What?" Confusion clouded your thoughts as you reached for your canteen, the bitter taste in your mouth only worsening your discomfort.

"Forget it," she huffed, shaking her head. "Oh, I hear him. I think Arthur's back."

Panic surged through you as you struggled to focus, the realization hitting hard. Arthur. You had to see him, make his coffee, bring him his food, and make sure he knew you were at the camp and doing your part in the camp. But every instinct in you rebelled against the idea, your muscles weak and senses dulled as if they’d given up the fight.

Your vision blurred, and you sank deeper into the cot, eyelids heavy, your body refusing to cooperate. You barely registered Susan’s faint, dismissive muttering as she left the tent, her words blending into a haze of disapproval. For now, making sure Arthur was taken care of was the least of your worries.

Meanwhile, Susan spotted Arthur sitting by his cot, his irritation palpable. Freshly cleaned up from his last job, he seemed expectant, perhaps wondering where you were with his usual meal or coffee. Sensing an opportunity to stir up trouble, she approached him, her tone casual but dripping with judgment.

"Mr. Morgan," she began with a sly look, "your sister did nothing today. Not a damn thing. And right now? She’s sleeping in, like she's royalty or something."

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Why would she do that?”

“Who knows?” Susan shrugged with exaggerated indifference. “She had some spat with John, then just sulked off and refused to lift a finger.”

The moment the words left her lips, Arthur was on his feet, his expression hardening. Without a word to Susan, he strode to your tent and pushed open the flap, not bothering to knock. His gaze swept over you, expecting to find you feigning sleep, or maybe just ignoring the day’s tasks.

"What the hell is you-"

But the sight of you, lying pale and motionless beneath the blanket, immediately stopped him in his tracks. A faint flush tinged your face, and your breathing was shallow. His agitation shifted to alarm in an instant.

Arthur knelt beside you, his hand reaching to press gently against your forehead, feeling the unmistakable heat of fever radiating through his palm. “Damn it,” he muttered, guilt and worry flooding his face. He’d been ready to scold you for shirking camp duties, and instead, here you were, worn down to the bone.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focusing as you tried to mumble something. “Arthur... I meant... to get your food… just…”

His jaw tightened, frustration directed inward. “You’ve been pushin’ yourself too hard,” he said, his voice low but edged with anger, at himself, at Susan, at anyone who’d failed to notice what you were going through. “You’re coming with me to the clinic, no arguments.”

You nodded weakly, relief and exhaustion settling over you. Without another word, he slipped his arms beneath you, lifting you up with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

As he carried you to the stables, he did not forget to throw a bloodthirsty look at Susan making her gulp. It clearly stated.

'You are dead if something happens to her.'

The air in the clinic was thick with the smell of antiseptic and the soft rustle of the doctor’s coat as he examined you. Arthur sat beside you, his brow furrowed with concern, his hand clenched into a fist resting on his thigh. You lay on the cot, shivering despite the blanket wrapped around you, your pallor alarming him even more than before. The doctor’s voice was a distant murmur, but the words echoed in your ears.

“She’s suffering from dehydration fever. It’s left her weak, but with proper treatment, she should recover. Make sure she stays hydrated, and she’ll need rest, here's the prescription and you can go home if you want once the drip is finished..” The doctor turned to you one last time with a gentle smile. "Rest well, alright? Lots of it."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind the doctor, Arthur turned to you, his expression shifting from worry to something sharper, more intense. “What the hell were you thinking?!” he snapped, his voice low but edged with anger. “You could have told me you weren’t feeling well. Instead, you’ve been pushing yourself like this?”

You flinched at his tone, the weight of his words mixing with the guilt that already gnawed at you. “I--but you said...that I gotta...work...” you started, but the words caught in your throat, and instead of explanations, tears began to prick at your eyes.

"FUCK WHAT I SAID!- "He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I also said to take care of yourself, I am not always around! And just--look at you..."

“I--I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “I thought I could manage...”

“Thought!?” he echoed, incredulous. “You can’t just think you can handle it all when you’re this sick! You’ve been working yourself to the bone! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you ask for help?” His voice rose with each word, frustration spilling over as he paced the floor, refusing to meet your gaze.

"And what did you just tell the doctor, huh? That this wasn't the first time it happened?! Are you kidding me?! Are you tryin' to waste yourself?!"

The harshness of his tone cut through you, and you couldn’t help the tears that began to spill down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your throat tightening. As you looked into his furious eyes, the dam broke. The tears spilt over, hot and unrelenting as you remembered all the times, you put him and others first, in fear.

In fear of being left with strangers while Arthur is away and thinking that they might say or do something to you if you don't do the work properly.

"Damn it,” he murmured, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I was...scared and I-I--miss her,” you sobbed, clutching the blanket tightly around you as if it could shield you from the pain. “I miss Mama. She would know what to do. She would take care of me…please take me to Mama...” Your voice cracked, the memories of her soothing presence and the comfort she always provided weighing heavily on your heart.

Arthur’s anger faltered as he watched you break down. hearing you call for Mama again and again was agonizing. He felt his heart twist painfully at your words, the memories of your mother hanging heavy in the air. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice losing its edge. He reached out, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, his own frustration melting away in the face of your grief. “I miss her too. But you can’t go on like this. You need to take care of yourself for her, for both of us. And why the hell are you scared, you are my sis' and as long as I am alive, no one can touch a strand of yours,” He pulled you in a side hug carefully.

"And listen here, from now on, you only do my chores. Fuck the camp." You pulled away slightly, in shock.

"W-what?"

He nodded with a playful smile. "Damn right. You get better and you do my work only. Susan can surely handle the others, right?"

You blinked up at him, your surprise turning into disbelief. “Arthur, you can’t just tell me to ignore everything else... I can’t put that on Susan. She-”

He interrupted you with a firm squeeze of your hand, his eyes softening. “I can and I will. You need to rest, and if that means I have to play the tyrant for a bit, so be it. Besides, Susan can manage. She’s been slacking off more than you realize. And if someone has a problem with it then they can come to me. Anytime.”

A small laugh, almost devilish, bubbled up despite your exhaustion, the tension easing slightly. You snuggled back into the hug to calm your shivering.

“That's...that would be fun to watch."

He nodded and you decided to press your advantage. “Um…so tell her to do your chores too-”

"Don't get too ahead of yourself now."

I hate you.

“Get well soon, and you better take your meds and all when I ain’t around.” Arthur’s voice held a rough tenderness, though he masked it with a gruff tone. Beneath his impatience, you sensed a genuine worry, a hint of eagerness for you to recover, not that he’d admit it, of course. His true motive, or so he told himself, was purely practical.

Pearson’s stew lacked the warmth and care you added to every meal, and coffee was never quite right unless you made it.

He groaned inwardly, imagining another week of choking down meals without your touch. But the look he shot you as he spoke was more protective than he probably intended, softening just enough that you knew he was looking out for you.

“Did ye’ even hear me, missy?” he muttered, noticing your eyelids drooping, his words somewhere between annoyed and fond.

You jumped, startled out of the drowsiness that was starting to creep over you, and gave a hum of acknowledgement.

⋆⋆⋆

John rushed up to Arthur as he emerged from your tent, having just ensured you were well-fed and rested.

"What is it, you rascal?" Arthur asked, turning to face him with a mix of curiosity and annoyance.

“Um... I was looking forward to a compensation…” John trailed off, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“For?” Arthur raised an eyebrow amused, the impatience creeping into his tone.

“(Y/N), tore... she... tore my underwear, which is not fair...I only asked her to wash it...I mean....”

A smirk crept across Arthur's face. “She did the right thing, I am proud of her.” He grabbed John by the back of his neck, pulling him close with a playful yet threatening grin.

"My sis ain't your maid, boy, got it? In fact, nobody's maid here. Wash your shit yourself.” The playful banter vanished, replaced by a weighty silence as Arthur's gaze hardened. He gave John a firm shove, sending him stumbling back and casually walking back to his own tent, chuckling at the boy's foolish request.

[yuff7e]

heyy i was hoping you could hear me out on this female reader x bakugo fic request. this might sound so weird but pls stay w me. when u give a guy head it can bruise the back of ur throat. (obviously isn’t perm) and dentists can actually tell and see the bruising. so i’ve jus been thinking about going to a dental appointment with Bakugo the next day after giving him that head and the dentist being able to tell and lowkey teasing about it. how would bakugo react lol. thanks!!!!

♬ ₊˚. dental appts w bakugo katsuki !! .🎧⋆✧ sfw / fluff / light mentions of nsfw / mentions of mouth poking

female reader

hi anon !! this is such a funny request i HAD to do this !!! i literally giggled when i read it :3 that’s so silly i bet he’d be so flustered, enjoy <3

the cuties song -> www.spotify.com (LMFAOO)

your boyfriend, katsuki, was driving you to your dental appointment today. you two were doing the usual, listening to music and talking occasionally as you gaze out the window. you usually don’t like going to the dentist, but you knew you had to get a few things checked eventually.

once katsuki pulled into the parking lot, you grabbed your purse and your phone and hopped out of his car - fixing your hair in the window once you shut the door. “let’s go!” katsuki shouts, you huff - moving another strand of hair into place and catching up to him.

“you look fine, baby.” he grumbles, pulling your hand into his - you shoot him a quick smile before walking in the doors. once you’re inside katsuki speaks to the receptionist at the counter and lends her your information as you look around, you haven’t been to the dentist in forever.

eventually you two sit down, katsuki crosses a calf over his knee and puts his arm around you - watching the kids fondly and glaring at the men that walked past and looked at you. you pull out your small compact mirror and fix your hair once more, earning a small chuckle from katsuki.

“what?” “nothin’ you’re just cute..” a pink hue frames your cheeks and you look back into the tiny mirror, suddenly the door entering the dentists office calls out your name and you both stand up - following the woman into the room where the dentist is at.

“hello ms.[last name], take a seat.” the dentist greets you kindly and you sit, katsuki sitting in the other chair in the room. the dentist looks at your records and assures everything is fine with your teeth and that they just want to do a short checkup to double check that everything is normal.

you sit back once you hand katsuki your purse and essentials, opening your mouth for the dentist to examine. as he’s poking around in your mouth he stops for a second and gives you a look, you look back at him quizzically and he just chuckles - glancing at katsuki as well.

“what? is there somethin’ wrong?” katsuki questions, sitting up in the chair. the dentist tells him there’s nothing wrong, but that there seems to be some.. bruising, in the back of your mouth. katsuki coughs at his confession and you glance between katsuki and the dentist, suddenly - you start giggling. your face has turned a light shade of pink that the dentist points out, which just turns the hue darker as the dentist continues the teasing.

katsuki stares at the dentist with wide eyes and sits back in the chair, clearly embarrassed. “it’s quite alright, it doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong. it’s just always funny to notice and tease the patients about, don’t worry - this is not an uncommon thing.” he speaks as he clicks his mouse against the mousepad, eventually he spins back around in his chair toward you and tells you that everything is fine and that you don’t have to come back until a few months pass.

you thank him and grab your things from katsuki, before you two could walk out the dentist stops you - “make sure to not get another bruise, now.” katsuki stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at the dentist “wh—- hey!” before he could continue you place a hand on his chest and push him out, “sorry, and yes sir - i won’t.”

the dentist smiles at you both fondly as you walk out, katsuki keeping a tight grip on your waist as you make it to his car. before you open the car door you place a hand on your forehead, giggling breathlessly to yourself - “oh my, that was so embarrassing.” “yeah it sure fuckin’ was, why’d he care so much anyway?” katsuki mumbles to himself as he gets in the car.

you get in as well and place a hand on his arm, “don’t worry, now that we know in advance we’ll do something else before going to the dentist.” you flutter your eyelashes at him and he just gives you a “really?” look. you laugh at his silent response and he puts the car in reverse, revving loudly before backing out and speeding off.

—

yay !! this was actually so fun to write and super easy !! thanks for the amazing and silly request !! i love requests like these :)

REQUESTS : OPEN

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

for Natasha, Seele, and Bronya, March 7th and Kakfa

With an S/O who likes tease and try to fluster them think on same level as Yae Miko from genshin

(Honkai: Star Rail) Natasha, Seele, Bronya, and March 7th's S/O teasing them

No Kafka just yet on this blog, but eventually there shall be!

Natasha actually loves S/O's teasing.

It'd make other patients within earshot groan, but Natasha chuckles delightfully while having a hand cover her mouth.

The only time she'd find it annoying is if she's in the middle of work, which thankfully doesn't happen if the operation is life-threatening.

Otherwise, Natasha doesn't mind the attempts to tease her and finds it really fun to play along with their antics.

Unless it's in front of the kids.

Then she actually gets very flustered and very irritated if they don't shut up.

(Natasha) "S-S/O! Not in front of the children!"

(S/O) "Hm? Why so serious all of a sudden, dear? You didn't seem that hot and bothered when I said to you in private-"

Natasha glared at them.

(Natasha) "S/O!"

(Hook) "Natasha, what are they talking abou-"

(Natasha) "Nothing. In fact, I think it's time for S/O's checkup."

(S/O) "...Does it require your grenade launch-"

(Natasha) "You're going to be in bad shape, so yes. It will."

Seele sighs loudly whenever she hears S/O trying to get a rise out of her.

It was kind of working, but the it just made her want to punch them instead of being flustered.

At least the ones in public. Since S/O would like to not be cleaved in half by her scythe.

Seele is at least impressed by their tenacity, but she supposed that went for everyone with Wildfire.

They were a pretty stubborn bunch.

(Seele) "Ugh, my back is killing me..."

(S/O) "Well, we did-"

(Seele) "Finish that sentence, and I will be killing you."

Seeing that shit-eating grin on S/O made Seele roll her eyes. One of these days, she was going to give them a taste of their own medicine.

Otherwise, if they try to make any wise-cracks like that in front of the Chief or Natasha, the bottom of her fist hits their head both gently, yet firmly.

(Seele) "Shut your trap, already."

Bronya is very easy to fluster, go figure.

She can keep her cool when in professional settings, but all it takes is S/O cracking a very inappropriate joke to shatter that, at least when there's not many people in the room.

If she is in the middle of important business, she is going to glare at them until they take the hint.

But her threatening aura is somewhat diminished when her cheeks go red.

Bronya reacts far stronger when it's just the two of them. Part of her is thankful that is where the worst of S/O's teasing comes to the front, but she would prefer not to deal with it that much.

(S/O) "My, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to kill me with your gaze alone."

(Bronya) "I'd very much like to, S/O! You can't just...s-suddenly grab me like that!"

(S/O) "Hm? But I thought you liked-"

(Bronya) "NOT ANOTHER WORD!"

She tries to clear her throat and grumbles hearing S/O's laughter.

They're lucky Bronya adores hearing it...

Depending on the situation, March will either play along or begin stuttering like crazy.

If it's the two of them only, March becomes smug and tries to outplay them.

But if its in front of the Astral Express crew, more than likely she'll be trying to shut them up.

(Stelle) "Keep your flirting in your room, you two."

(March 7th) "H-HEY! S/O STARTED IT!"

(S/O) "What's wrong, March? I thought you'd want everyone to hear about our undying love, as you put it-"

(March 7th) "Ugh, SHUT UP!"

Himeko laughs while Welt and Dan Heng simply shake their heads.

(S/O) "You know, just last night she was-"

(March 7th) "OKAY! Putting a veto on that thought, any objections?!"

(Welt) "No."

(Dan Heng) "No."

(Himeko) "I'm curious-"

(Stelle) "...So am I-"

S/O laughs at everyone's reaction, making March pout and hit them on the arm.

[camimadra]

Unruly Patient ◇ Zayne x reader ◇ fluff ◇ 2,249 words

You take deep breaths as you walk along the corridor, convincing yourself that you’re doing the right thing. Earlier, you’ve been at the hospital for a checkup when you’ve been told that Zayne is sick himself and another doctor will check on you.

While you’d rather have Zayne as your doctor, you went along with the checkup, knowing full well that he would be angry with you for skipping it. Afterward, you still kept thinking about Zayne, and that’s how you ended up here, at his place.

After another deep breath, you knock on the door, hoping that Zayne won’t chew you up and spit you out for just dropping in without warning. It takes a few moments until the door finally opens, and your breath hitches when you see Zayne.

His eyes and nose have a slight red tinge and he looks tired. There’s nothing left of his usual vitality and energetic aura and even worse is the fact that he’s wearing sweatpants and a plain shirt. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable and out of his element.

“Yes?” he asks, his tone and expression quite pensive, but both grow softer when his eyes fall on you. “You’re here? Why?”

“Hello, Dr. Zayne,” you say, trying your best to keep your voice steady. “I just finished my checkup and got told at the hospital that you’re sick.”

“Call me Zayne, please. I know well enough that I’m a doctor,” he says, and his usual stoic expression returns to his face. “If your checkup is finished, then why are you here?”

“To help you get better, of course. You take care of me when I’m sick, so I might as well return the favor.”

You hold up the little basket you brought, filled with medication and home remedies that he could try to get better. Thanks to your grandma, you certainly have a lot of those.

“I think we just established that I’m a doctor,” Zayne says as he raises a doubtful eyebrow at your basket. “It’s my job to take care of you. You on the other hand risk getting sick yourself.”

You assumed it would be hard to persuade him, but you’re not giving up just yet. “Considering that you’re the best doctor I know, I thought you would want to get better as quickly as possible so you can care for your patients again. Maybe I was wrong.”

Zayne lets out a small growl, but then he steps aside and opens the door wider for you. “Show me then what you have in there that can heal me.”

You walk through the door and make the mistake of taking a deep breath as you pass Zayne. Usually a little bit of the hospital clings to him, like the smell of disinfectant, but now it’s like walking through a snowy forest, the trees covered in morning frost. You imagine a low rising sun, making everything glitter in the first light, and a sense of calm washes over you.

Only when Zayne closes the door behind you do you manage to snap out of it. He steps up to you and points to a door. “In here.”

You walk into a surprisingly comfortable living room. Judging by Zayne’s office, you imagined his home to be just as minimalistic, but the room is dominated by a huge blue sofa on a fluffy rug, one side covered with a whole array of pillows. The walls are lined with wooden shelves, most of the space used for books, but there are a few little trinkets you wouldn’t mind looking at a little closer. You don’t want to pry though, so you wait for Zayne and follow him to the sofa when he sits down.

“Will you tell me your secrets now?” Zayne asks, leaning over to you. For a moment you’re unable to speak, but then you remember the basket in your hand.

“These are the medications I usually use,” you say, handing them to him, and your hand tingles when Zayne’s fingers brush against yours. 

He does you the favor of checking them all thoroughly although you suspect that as a doctor, he probably recognizes them on sight. Finally, he hands them back. “These are similar to what I already take, so you better keep these in case you get infected.”

The words are accompanied with a frown, telling you that Zayne still disapproves of you being here. “I never get sick. Hurt maybe, but not sick. You should know that.”

Zayne’s face grows even more grim, but he still hums in agreement. “I guess that’s true.”

“Anyway, what you really need is this,” you say, pulling out a small container. “Best soup for when you’re sick. You’ll have to heat it up, but then it’ll do wonders.”

“You cooked this yourself?” Zayne asks, and something in his voice twists your stomach into knots. He sounds surprised and somewhat touched, making you wonder if nobody ever cooked for him when he was sick.

“Yes, I did. It’s a special recipe from my grandmother. No sickness has a chance to survive this one.”

Zayne takes the soup from you and studies it for a moment before setting it down on the table. “Thank you for making the effort. I have just eaten, so I have to try this later.”

“No worries,” you say, “we can start with this instead.”

You pull out a small cream jar and open it up to hold it under Zayne’s nose. “This is great to help you breathe better, especially when you sleep.”

You’re about to pull your hand back, but Zayne holds on to your wrist. His fingers are cool against your warm skin, and the tingling feeling is back until he tugs lightly to get the jar closer to his face. “That does smell good. Where do you apply it?”

“Under your nose,” you say, “although it feels a little cold to the skin. You might prefer to put it on your chest and get under a blanket.”

“I don’t mind when it’s cold,” Zayne says, and while he lets go of your wrist, he studies you intendly. “How about you? Does the cold bother you?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking about your medicine or himself, but you want to make sure that he doesn’t feel bad in any case. “No, I quite like it. It feels nice, especially when you’re running a fever.”

“I don’t think I do,” Zayne says. “As my self-declared nurse, will you check my temperature?”

There’s a taunt in his voice, but he will learn that you don’t give up easily. He can make fun of you all he wants, but you’re determined to take care of him. 

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you muster up the courage to lift your hand and put it on his forehead. For a second, he draws back, but then he holds still, the tiniest of smiles appearing on his lips. "Measuring my temperature like this won’t give you any valuable results. Even you should know that.”

“Even I can tell that you don’t have a fever,” you say, taking your hand back. “So my methods are perfectly fine. You just need to be a better patient.”

Zayne seems to ponder that for a moment before he looks at the jar in your hand. “My nose is not the only problem. I had trouble sleeping due to a light cough. Would you recommend putting the cream on my chest?”

“Of course. That way it will be the most effective.”

Maybe you should have caught on to his scheme sooner the second Zayne stopped arguing with you, but you’ve been so invested in making him better that you never stopped to think how he might tease you.

Without warning, Zayne pulls his shirt over his head. He brings his arms down to cover his stomach with it, but that still leaves his naked chest. You try to look away as he leans back against the pillows, but Zayne’s eyes don’t leave you for even a second. “Will you apply the medicine then? After all, it’s your duty as my nurse.”

You know he’s doing this on purpose to get you to cave, but you certainly won’t give him the satisfaction. He might make you nervous, but two can play this game, and you certainly did way more frightening things in your life than touch your crush.

“Fine,” you simply say while scooting closer. Then you put a generous amount of cream on your fingers and lean over Zayne. He still has this triumphant look in his eyes as if there’s no way you could keep going. 

You prove him wrong by dapping little blobs of the cream along his collarbone before turning your attention to his chest. The cream needs to be rubbed in to work properly and you start by making little circles with your fingertips, prompting Zayne to close his eyes and lean his head back. 

While you’re no longer under his scrutiny, you use the chance to study his face. It’s a little unfair that he can be this pretty while sick and tired, but you’re glad that he tries to relax. Fighting the urge to run your hand through his hair, your focus on rubbing the cream into his skin wherever it makes sense. It’s soft and warm to the touch, and you get a little lost in what you’re doing.

Zayne opens his eyes and lifts his head while raising an eyebrow at you. “I might not be a nurse, but I don’t think this is supposed to go there.”

With horror, you realize that you ran your fingers along his neck, your thumb still following the sharp line of his jaw. You quickly take your hand back and get to your feet. “I need to wash my hands.”

“The bathroom is at the end of the corridor,” Zayne says and you fly out of the room, your heart pounding.

As you wash off the cream, you can’t stop picturing Zayne just lying there and letting you take care of him. Usually, he pushes everybody away who even suggests that he needs help. Does that mean something, or is he simply trying to be nice?

After a few deep breaths, you walk back into the living room, finding Zayne going through the basket. He put his shirt back on which might actually be healthier for you at the moment and you dare to sit down next to him.

“All these things you brought,” Zayne says, his eyes finding you again. “One could think you were trying to take care of the whole house, not just me.”

“I don’t care about the whole house,” you say before you can stop yourself. The implication is pretty clear and something in Zayne’s eyes seems to shift. You bite your lip and decide that maybe you made enough of a fool of yourself for today. “I should probably go.”

You try to get up, but Zayne grabs your wrist again. The touch is light and you could still get free, but you’re rooted to the spot as Zayne looks up at you. “I’m still having trouble sleeping. Shouldn’t my nurse help with that?”

This time, he doesn’t sound like he’s teasing you, and you wonder if he doesn’t want to be alone. After all, who doesn’t want to be taken care of while sick.

“If you have a cough, you should try to lie a little elevated,” you say, propping up some of the pillows behind Zayne. “Try it.”

Zayne lies down, but frowns. “This isn’t particularly comfortable.”

He takes a big, soft pillow and puts it into your lap, and before you can ask what he’s doing, he lies down on it, looking up at you. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel. “Is that more comfortable?”

Zayne turns to the side and closes his eyes, his nose barely an inch apart from your tummy. If he leaned forward just a tiny bit, he could bury his whole face in it. “It’s perfect.”

You wait for a bit to make sure that he stays this way, and since he’s the one who got into this position, you find the courage to touch him again. He doesn’t move when you trail your fingers over his forehead and tousle his hair, and when you pet along his ear and neck, he lets out a soft hum and looks up at you. “This is nice. I already feel better.”

“Nice try,” you say in a mocking tone although your heart tries to beat out of your chest. “You need sleep, so close your eyes.”

Zayne actually does as he’s told and you go back to petting him. He whispers a small “Thank you,” and you’re pretty sure he falls asleep right after. It’s not exactly the most comfortable position for you to be in, but you don’t mind at all.

It’s nice to see him relaxed and comfortable, especially when you’re the reason for it. Now you only have to figure out your own problem. When you came here, you thought you were helping a friend that you have a bit of a crush on, but looking down at him now, you know it’s way worse. You might be a little bit in love with Zayne, and knowing him, it’s going to be impossible to tell if he feels the same way about you.

[lovesick-feelings]

can i req sun/moon yandere hcs?

Sorry this came very late darlings! A part of the reason is that i've been going through a lot in life and i haven't had much time to catch up but don't worry as i'll still be here for anything! (´⌣`ʃƪ)

Another reason was because of how indecisive i was for teamwork headcanons between the two. There was supposed to be more explaining how the two work together to watch over their dear but I decided to add it later in the future. I know it'll take another decade to write it out and I really don't wanna hold up this request more than I already have. ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

Note: This takes place before the Security Breach incident making Moon way less aggressive and sadistic to that Moon.

SUN

♡ *GASP* A NEW CO-WORKER!?! What wonderful news that is! He barely has any older friends (mostly cause adults find him creepy), so he finds the thought of having you around thrilling! When you show up, his visits start as occasional checkups, but soon they become more regular. You are such a caring and kind person to him and the children. He loves getting attention from you so much that every time you look at him, he feels like he's going to burst!

♡ His obsession grows so strong it goes against his intended programming to frequently focus on you. He knows he’s supposed to report problems like this, but he’s sure it can’t be so bad if he feels this happy around you! This has gotten him in trouble with staff and Moon multiple times, but he doesn't understand why. He’s doing his job of making someone happy and that’s his bestest friend in the world!

♡ Sun wants to do EVERYTHING with you. Despite protests, he doesn't want you to feel left out and all gloomy in the corner, so he’s bringing you along on all the things he considers fun! It’s scary when he suddenly scoops you up in his arms and skips at lightning speed across the daycare to where all the activities are. You’ll often find yourself surrounded by children playing games or making crafts. 

♡ Your happiness together is all he wants. When you laugh at the sock puppet he made of you, he feels all warm and fuzzy inside. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time! Anything you guys make is immediately stored and displayed proudly in his room. Now that he thinks about it, he should probably organize it better for the on-growing collection of your belongings and things that remind him of you.

“Wasn’t that so fun, Sunshine!?” 

“Yeah it was but I really gotta get back to work”

“Oh - oh wait! I got another game we can play together!!”

♡ Touchy-feely does not begin to describe how Sun behaves around you. Hand holding, cuddling, hugs, you name it, he wants to do it all. When Sun sees you, he just wants to squish you, and love you, and hold you in his arms forever and ever!! Even when you're busy, he can’t help the urge to pull you into a surprise hug. He would love to try kissing you someday but he gets bashful just thinking about it.

♡ Every time you come back to your desk he’s already got a gift waiting for you there. All four flavors of Fizzy-Fazz (He didn’t know which you wanted, so he got all of them) with a couple of chips and bars. A lot of the drawings with you and him together with hearts all over or the occasional origami around your work desk with sweet messages like “You’re my sunshine!” and “You look very pretty today!”. As cute as it is, it's gotten excessive to the point where you have to clean your desk on a basis.

♡ Like a kid, he’s relentless when getting you to pay attention to him. Unfortunately, this turns him into a huge distraction because, instead of getting your work done, Sunny boy is dancing around insisting you join him for more playtime. This transitions into interactions with co-workers. When someone comes to check on you, he’s already got your attention on something else while he shoos them off the daycare grounds.

♡ Nothing is worse than an unhappy darling. If Sun senses something is wrong, he will panic. Because he's built to recognize distress when he senses it, he's very understanding. So, when he feels you’re hiding something from him, he can’t help stressing over it. Now every minor gesture can be interpreted as a huge sign. You're not in the mood for hugs one morning and he looks at you as if you dropped-kicked a baby. God forbid he finds out he’s the reason you’re unhappy 💀

♡ He’ll try so hard to make it up to you but it only worsens as he realizes it’s becoming futile. He will cling to you more if he thinks you're mad at him. While trying to reassure you of his love, he sounds like he's just reassuring himself. He'll invent any excuse to keep you longer as well. He hates making a mess, but if it means you’ll stay longer, it doesn’t matter! He takes whatever desperate measures are needed, except for violence. The shame and guilt would outweigh whatever reason he had to lash out.

“Sunshine, please don’t go! No! No! NO! I CAN’T let you go!”

MOON

♡ Was it really necessary to have you around…? As grateful as he is to have a helper, he’s been doing fine alone. He’s mostly reclusive, only approaching when needed. It takes Sun’s endless gushing about you and a few approaches for him to warm up to you. When he realizes you are someone he can trust, he’ll make an effort to talk to you more while the children sleep. His biggest comforter becomes you, someone he can watch and protect. Your genuine care turns his curiosity into fascination.

♡ Moon could care less if he’s not supposed to cater to you. He already attends to a group of children so it shouldn't be a problem if he wants you as well. He keeps it discreet around you and other staff though. It’ll only cause trouble if he’s caught acting out. Lucky for him, he can be patient. If it means having you all to himself he has no problem going the extra mile into making you his compliant little star~

♡ Despite being a staff, Moon has a habit of urging you to sleep. Some days he’s more persistent than others. He can be pretty stubborn and, because of that, you often agree with him, so he can stop staring at you from across the room. If you’re really adamant about disobeying him, he has other ways of convincing you too~ Like placing Moondrops in your drink and waiting for them to melt before giving it to you.

♡  He always tells you this is for the best. He only wants what's best for you because your safety and health are his priority. Before you know it, he’ll have you tucked in the softest pillows and blankets. He’ll stroke your hair, whispering sweet nothings as you’re lulled to sleep. There's nothing more addicting than holding your still, peaceful form in his arms. Caressing your soft face while hearing your gentle breathing, he wishes it could last forever. Anyone trying to wake you up is signed up on his hit list. 

“Now now rest, Starlight~” 

“Moon I can’t I really have to finish-” 

“Shhhh… work has no place at bedtime~”

♡ It’s always a battle for him to choose whether he wants to hold you. His intrusive thoughts keep telling him to pick up and cradle you so he can see your cute reactions. On the other hand, he couldn’t risk anyone else seeing him being so clingy. He becomes the stiffest and most awkward bot for physical affection because he can't choose what to do! He is much more daring and demanding when you two are alone. You’ll spend hours locked down in his arms while he’s snuggling against the crook of your neck. Behave and he’ll leave a couple of pecks here and there too.

♡ Moon is deliberate when it comes to his gifts. You won’t receive them from him often, but when you do it's something he knows you needed or wanted. Like the time he saw you shivering, he handed you a daycare-themed sweater or hand-painted mug for all the pens and pencils you've collected. No matter how the gift is, it must be neatly presented to you. Even the energy bars he gets for you are wrapped in a cute blue bow. He prefers to hand you his gifts in person so that way he can see what you like and what he can improve on (also because he really loves the attention he gets from it).

♡ Moon is a sly one. As he prefers a more tranquil darling, he attempts to win you over though it would be easier to kidnap you. His way of doing so is making you more dependent on him. He takes his time studying you before making any moves. When he’s not stalking you he’s manipulating everything around you to his favor. If you’re a kind person he’ll draw you in by making himself look all alone because of those awful rumors of him being scary. If you’re more wary of him he’ll take his time gaining your trust, obeying your every word, and making you feel you’re the only one that can tame him until he can finally claim you as his own.

♡ Moon can be clingy but he never goes as far as to become suffocating. He’ll allow you to have space until he senses someone is trying to interfere. His possessiveness only drives him to stalk your co-workers as well. Everyone is considered an obstacle some more than others and is to be dealt with accordingly. Moon isn’t one for violence but he’s familiar with fear tactics that will surely leave your so-called friends to regret their decision.

♡ If he senses that he is at fault he’ll change himself to be softer but the same can't be said if he believes your co-workers had a hand in your change. He’s working behind the scenes causing “accidents” to happen. Your co-workers will drop like flies and you haven't a single clue why. He hasn't shown you this side because he knows you’ll only make it harder for the both of you. But let’s say you had suspicions. Moon would either downplay the whole thing or put you in "time out". Depends if he believes there's some way he can salvage the last bit of trust in him.

“Naughty Starlight, you are not allowed to leave timeout until I said otherwise~”

[lovelynim]

Fabi dearest Fabi congrats on the incredible milestone, you deserve every follower and many more! For the request *makes funny face* can I please ask something with Dr. Zayne x Lee!Reader, maybe reader is having a health checkup but Zayne's touch tickles too much. Or something. 🙏 🥹

Ginnyyyyy!!

Thank you so much! ~ Eheh, I kinda expected you to ask something with dr. Zayne (I'm also the one to blame for it). Now, I wonder how this one will turn out (and let's hope it's all cover by our insurance!)

“Do you still have trouble sleeping at night?” Zayne asked in his usual cold, serious voice tone as his eyes went through page after page, carefully reading the results of your exams. Regardless of it being his working hours, you couldn’t help but wish he was a little sweeter - you two were dating, after all.

You let out a sigh, crossing one ankle over the other and resting your hands on the examination table to support your body as you leaned back. “Not anymore, doctor,” You looked up to the ceiling. It would be better to avoid the small talk - you didn’t need Zayne reminding you about how you needed to keep personal feelings outside the hospital and blah blah blah. Boring.

“But are you getting 8 hours of sleep?” Zayne looked up from the pages in his hands, raising one eyebrow as he waited for your answer. Busted.

“W-well, most of the days, yes, I think,” you let out a nervous chuckle and Zayne simply shakes his head slightly in disapproval.

“Your exams show nothing to worry about and it seems your condition is stable so far,” Zayne explained, carefully arranging the pages on top of his desk before picking the stethoscope up from around his neck.

You straighten your posture as soon as you notice he is approaching you and, for some reason, you feel a little nervous. It’s just another run out of the mile check-up, you tell yourself inside your head, trying to shrug off the feeling of uneasiness.

Zayne places the earpieces on his own and looks at you, seemingly puzzled. “Is there something wrong?” He asks, standing inches away from you.

“...no, doctor,” you hesitate for a moment, looking back at him in the eyes.

As if trying to figure you out, Zayne delays himself for a couple more seconds before wrapping one arm around your body. “Then, excuse me,” he warns, moving the chestpiece inside the back of your clothes and holding it against your bare skin.

The coldness of the metal makes you gasp and flinch, but as you attempt to move away from the stethoscope, Zayne gently squeezes your side, making you jump back into the cold object on your back. “Stay still and breathe deep,” Zayne instructs, his voice close to your ear.

You press your eyes shut and feel a faint heat reaching your cheeks.. Was he teasing you on purpose? Or just being painfully oblivious like he always was? As you try to follow his instructions and stay still, your body can’t help but tremble a bit - half because of the coldness on your back, half because Zayne’s touch against your side is making you stay on the edge.

“Is something wrong?” Zayne mutters softly, breaking the room’s silence, “your heart is beating… really fast.”

You let out a shaky sigh and a nervous smile take place on your lips. Of course I’m nervous, you dumb doctor, you think before looking at him.

[ofaatuu]

Similar

Ronal x Tonowari x poly!reader

part 4! Part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here.

it’s been so long I’m so sorry guys I got super duper busy with work, but I’m back! Words spoken in blue is spoken in Navi. And words in this is basically you talking to yourself.

You heard norm and max bickering over some bs while you were eating your breakfast when you get a call from Jake. “this is Y/n speaking, what’s up Jake?” You say answering the call, “hey y/n are you guys checking up on Kiri today?” You sigh “not sure why what’s goin on?” “She said she’s been having some weird dreams lately and I was wondering if norm and max can come check up on her.” “Got it, bye.”

“Normmmm, Maxxxxx.” You say while walking the halls of the lab, you enter a room and see them standing next to your avatar. “What Y/n.” “Jake wants a checkup, sayin Kiris having some weird dreams.” you mumble out while cleaning the inside of your nails, “alright we’ll get ready we’re heading over soon.

You wake up and find yourself in your avatar. As you head over to your beloved aircraft you see norm and max loading equipment in and offer to help. “Yeah actually thanks, can you go grab the rest of the stuff in the lab room?” “Got it.” You run to grab it and run back. As you’re setting the stuff in the aircraft your stomach starts to bubble with nerves, you haven’t seen Ronal or Tonowari in a few weeks and it’s nerve wrecking seeing them again. Ronals big yellow eyes.. Her thick course hair, don’t get me started on Tonowaris hair, you think about his big ass arms and beautiful tattoo work on them. Just like yours, when you were 18 you decided you wanted a tribal tattoo just like your father and got it as soon as you could. After thinking and snapping out of your haze, you jumped into the front pilot seat and asked the two nerds if they were ready, they replied yes and you started the aircraft named “Mahina”, by you of course and took off.

As soon as you got their multiple navis gathered, still very interested in the aircraft after seeing it multiple times. You unloaded things for Norm and Max set it into Jake and Neytiris mauri. You felt the same set of burning eyes on the back of your head, but didn’t look back yet. “Hey guys, how’s everything?” You ask trying to make conversation because it’s too quiet.. “good, what about you Y/n?” Jake replied seeing what you’re trying to do and giving into it. “Could be better.” like sleeping..

You then turn around and see Ronal. You smile nervously at her, just like how you did when you first ever met her. You walk over and greet her, “Hello Ronal, how are you?” You say trying not to make eye contact with her big ass eyes.. kind of hard to do, “Demon, it’s been long, where have you been? How’s that big cut on your shoulder? Have you been growing your hair? Are you staying the night here at the reef again? “Do you wish to sleep in our mauri?” Your eyes widen as you’re bombarded with so many questions, “woah slow down tsahik, yes it’s been awhile. Yes I’m staying here for awhile, me and my partners need to stay for kiri due to her dreams being a long-lasting test their running. And I am growing out my hair thank you for noticing.” She notices your gaze is focused on her nose and not her eyes. “Demon is something wrong? Why will you not look me in the eye?” “It’s nothing Ronal, how’s Tonowari and your children?” “Their fine, come to my mauri let me look your gash.” As you’re walking to her mauri you start sweating, this is so nerve wrecking and you don’t know why. As your getting checked you hiss due to her pressing on the gash, which turned into a scar very quick. “The paste worked. I told you it works on everyone.” you continue to talk to her as you hear the mauri flap being opened by no other than Tonowari, “Hello syulang.” great another reason to sweat even more.

translations; Mahina; Moon, Syulang; flower

ughhhh it’s been so long since I wrote, sorry if this was rusty. tag list! @sakuuo @zoexme @ellabellabus07 @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @ratchetprime211 @musictheatrenerd16 @unicornicopia1 @manumanulau @belos-simp69 @weepingwhitchofthewest

[oharabunny]

⋆✮↪ Warning: rambles, tangents, soft yandere!Miguel, weird Miguel, OOC!Miguel probably but idc, shy and useless reader

╭─── based on my first yandere!miguel tangent ┆ ╰⪼ I want to dive into slightly more detail of how far Miguel goes in taking care of you. We have to keep in mind that Miguel has lost a lot, a whole universe, and his daughter. I imagine he'd be more of a normal boyfriend had he met you in normal circumstances. However, I also don't think you would've been his type for normal Miguel. You're more compliant, shy, and normal. You're also ditzy, clutzy, and barely scraping by in your home world. In front of the great geneticist of Alchemax and Spider-Man, he was definitely out of your league.

But, your normalcy and dysfunctional living habits create the perfect relationship for current Miguel. He's able to get away with so so so many things with you.

(You almost ran away once one night, but you stopped in front of the exit and hesitated. You were alone in this universe with no family, no version of your family existing in this world. You'd be a burden to the other Spider people, and Miguel is the only one doing more than just giving you a place to stay.)

For one thing, he sees you as a fragile little doll that was abandoned on the side of the road. Or a cute kitten. But more than a pet, he has to take care of every little inch and aspect of you. Having lost damn near everything, he needs to keep a close eye on the one he cares about.

The one he cares most now is you; you're all he's got.

Back to some of the things he'd do to you, well, they aren't harmful, just unnerving. He almost never lets you do anything yourself around the house. He let you cook once and you burned yourself slightly, and Miguel made sure no kitchen appliance like the stove or blender can turn on unless given a passcode. Even kitchen utensils especially knives were locked away. Don't get me wrong though, you can cook, but Miguel would rather die than see you wince in pain again.

You're allowed at least a microwave and airfryer to heat up food when Miguel's not home to do it for you, under Lyla's supervision. Believe me, if he's home, you're never lifting a finger in the kitchen, including dishwashing.

Speaking of cleaning, he actually quite enjoys cleaning the house, especially spaces you occupy in the most. He even carefully washes all of your clothes and underwear, and folds them away for you. The rest can be handled by other robots of course. He believes only he can provide you the best conditions to live in, no one and nothing else.

That includes care for your body. This is going to be the most prominent and unnerving aspect of his care for you. While him bathing you from head to toe almost everyday is tame, he's very particular in his details. Like mentioned before, he'd do your manicure and pedicure, your skincare routine (he even knows the weekly masks you put on), and haircare and hairstyling (he's done so much research, you'd think he's done this before. Mans multi-talented). But, there's a point when too much care becomes too much, taking care of your looks alone is not enough. Your health is PARAMOUNT to this man. Looks fade, but your health should not. He'd be a little strict on your diet. He'd frequently take blood, urine, and stool samples (and of course he does it for you, don't fuss, he will do it with force if he has to no matter how gross it is for the both of you) to monitor every part of your body. Depending on your family's history and genetics, he'd constantly test for anything that you may inherit that could harm you. Yes that includes your usual checkups like you would at your doctor. He is your personal doctor too at this point. It's not like you have insurance in Nueva York 2099, a whole foreign universe.

God another gross thought I have to put out there is that he used to watch you use the restroom until you convince him to just stand outside. He justifies that bathroom related accidents are more common than you think. 💀🤢🤮 (He does NOT have a piss and poop kink he's just WEIRD)

As for usual yandere behaviors, he'd obviously won't let you go outside of the house. If he has you in an actual house with a backyard, that's where you get your sunlight, but if he has you in an apartment, then the shielded off balcony and sunroof will suffice. For vitamin D purposes. Otherwise, he makes you take supplements if you are deficient.

The only thing, and I do mean only, he asks of you is to give him babies. Pregnancy and birthing are huge huge risks depending on your constitution. I imagine Miguel messing with your DNA so you can safely deliver him babies. (Or for you kinky folks, he'd rewrite DNA somehow to make your milk jugs overflowing with milk constantly)

Taking care of you is something that of a ritual for him. Something he looks forward coming home to doing, despite the countless responsibilties he has in the Spider Society. He'd actually get so upset if you took care of yourself without him. If the whole canon events theory he has is debunked, I imagine he retires and full sends in taking care of you 24/7 in every hour of the day. He already relays more tasks to Jess, Peter, and other Spiders than usual, so he can be home with you more.

With all the cooking, cleaning, and self care routine being completely done by Miguel, you basically can do everything else you want, within Miguel's reason. Only safe hobbies, like drawing, reading, shopping, watching TV, etc. He still monitors when he can, especially shopping, since he is watchful of where his money moves, but to also see if you're purchasing anything that could hurt yourself. He hopes that whenever he can, he could join you in your hobbies. He particularly enjoys dressing you up in his favorite outfits on you. He'll see a style online he wants you to try and spin his own twist to it. You'd be his little fashion model. He'd also definitely have photoshoots just for you. You also love dressing him up as well and making him join in on the photoshoots.

I feel like I have a few more unnerving ideas about my version of yandere!Miguel, but I'm stopping right here cuz its 2 am and I can't think anymore. Till next time. (I'll write an actual fic I swear I will!)

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Tags: @belle-oftheball34, @mrs-oharaxx, @sukunash0e, @miguelswifey04, @wreakingmarveloushavok, @ghostofwinter, @crystalcrynight (LET ME KNOW IF I MISS TAGGING YOU OR WANT TO BE TAGGED FOR FUTURE WRITINGS)

buy me a ☕?

[rawbin-hsr]

Aventurine x reader

You die.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

TW: DEATH, heavy angst, gore, blood, kind of disturbing, a bomb explodes, derealisation/disassociation, graphic, I'll be so honest this fic is kind of fucked up

Lmk if I should add any more specific warnings!

If you're sensitive to violence and dark themes, you probably shouldn't read this.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

This mission had gone terribly awry. 

It was only meant to be a routine checkup. The IPC was planning on allocating resources from this planet, something the locals had not been pleased about. Aventurine understood. He would not be particularly happy to have his planet drained of all that made it worthwhile either. (He had not been happy. But all things considered, he thought he was being generous. Nobody was being directly killed, the IPC merely wanted a cut of the many materials the planet offered. The Avgins on Sigonia had all been very intentionally exterminated. He was not doing that to these people.)

Still, he couldn’t afford to take risks, hence the many IPC assigned bodyguards he had brought along. Deals like this, where the clients were undeniably on the losing end, were bound to go wrong in one way or another. Often violently so. 

He just had not expected the bombs. He had not expected the mass amounts of guns. The people were more capable and vengeful than he had assumed, then. Ultimately, it was his own fault.

Most of his goons were dead. Most of the government officials were dead too. It made sense they’d want to go out in such a loud and proud way. A declaration to their people they wouldn’t lay flat before the otherworldly corporation that had come to essentially take away what made their planet their home. Bold to be ready to kill so many of their own, but he could respect it. 

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be very angry. It was fair, all things considered. He’d had this long coming; being killed by the people whose lives he was ruining. In their positions, he’d love to kill him, too. The only issue was that this hadn’t happened under normal circumstances. 

No, you were with him. You’d been just a bit away from him when they opened fire, when they set off the bomb. 

It was so stupid. It was so, so unbelievably stupid that he��d let you come with. It was your job, yes, but he should have reassigned you to some other mission. Something safer. Something that didn’t involve visiting planets to drain them of all their worth. Something that didn’t bring about rage from the clients. 

He could see you. He’d been saved from the brunt of the impact, and his luck had once again protected him from serious harm. He had only been slightly grazed by a bullet, had only been slightly burned by the heat of the explosion. Nothing serious. Nothing he couldn’t walk off within a week or two. You had not been so lucky. 

Your arm was outstretched over your head, body lying limply on the floor. Missing the other arm. There was only a gaping, red hole where it had once been attached to your body, a little bit of bone sticking out of the gory mess. The blown off hand with your engagement ring lay close enough to him that he could touch it. Maybe intertwine his fingers with it for the last time. The pinky was missing.  

He pushed himself onto his feet on unsteady legs. He could barely feel his own body at all. One glance down at it told him he’d been right in his initial assumption, though. No parts of him were missing. He was intact. 

He stumbled over to where you lay, your expression calm, almost peaceful. No pained pinch between your brows, no worried frown on your lips. Were you unconscious, or were you dead? Though he knew it was unlikely you’d leave this place alive either way, he hoped desperately for the former. 

He fell to his knees next to you. Something was buzzing beneath his skin. Something was buzzing in his vision. Had the world always been so blurry? Had there always been such a loud noise ringing in his ears? His hands trembled as he carefully reached out, a hand tenderly cupping your cheek. Your face was red, slightly burnt in places. Your hair was singed. You felt hot to the touch. 

No, not hot. Warm. Warm as in alive. He couldn’t hear you breathing, but warmth meant life. Warmth meant life. You were alive, surely.

He brushed his thumb under your eye. Tried to find something to say, but he found his mouth refused to open. Carefully, so carefully, he shifted you onto his lap. He stared at the dust from all the debris that had settled onto you. He couldn’t breathe. 

(He thought back to a time when the dust had been sand. He thought back to the red that had painted the ground then as it did now. He thought back to another body he had pulled closer, with hands much smaller and weaker than the ones he had now. He thought back to the taste of salt as tears fell in an endless stream from his eyes to cover his face and hers.)

He moved his free hand to your neck, gently pressing a finger to where he knew he was supposed to find your pulse. It wasn’t there, but only because he wasn’t searching hard enough. He carefully felt around, and though he couldn’t find it, he knew it was still there. He just didn’t dare press down hard enough to find it. The same applied when he felt your wrist. He was just bad at finding things today. 

(He stupidly hadn’t found a good enough reason to put you out of this mission. He stupidly hadn’t found anything that happened before the explosion suspicious enough to leave early. He stupidly hadn’t found his way next to you quickly  enough to save your life.)

When his hand landed on your chest, absent of a heartbeat, tears started falling from his eyes. But why was that? You weren’t dead. In fact, the longer he looked at you, the more sure he became this couldn’t be you. Your skin wasn’t this hot. Your arms were both still attached. You did not have fresh burns covering your face. Most importantly, you were alive. Alive and well and happy and safe from this little mishap. He had misremembered, you had stayed home during this mission. The hand he’d been so sure belonged to you had been someone else’s, he’d merely mistaken the ring for yours. It was such a bland ring, after all. He’d have to buy you a new, much prettier one once he came home to you, and apologise for his oversight in giving you such a boring design. 

He ignored the repeated whispers of ‘not again, not again’ going through his head. Nothing was happening ‘again’. This was not Sigonia. This was not a person he loved, or even knew. He couldn’t understand why his body curled over the stranger’s, sobs wracking his frame as he pulled them close, soft apologies tumbling from his mouth. He nuzzled his face into your- their hair, hand carefully cradling the back of their head as the other supported their back. 

The body smelled like you. The body felt too similar to yours in his arms. The body had your face, even if your features were a little damaged. The longer he stared, the more he could feel his gut sinking. So he shut his eyes and reminded himself that there was no possible way this was you. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t. The universe would not be that cruel to him, would it?

Then again, maybe he had deserved this. If it was real. He was not a good man. He had not come to this planet with good intentions. Losing the thing most precious to him, the only thing precious to him, after taking away so much from so many others was a befitting punishment. 

But you hadn’t deserved this. Wouldn’t have, if it was real. You were so kind and generous and perfect and lovely, so different from him, so different from the position your job wanted you to be. You didn’t deserve to die. 

Die. Dead. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. 

You were dead. 

(Aventurine had seen so much death in his life. He should have been used to it by now. He was used to it. He had just forgotten how much it hurt when it is someone he loves.)

He held you tighter. If he held you tightly enough, could it piece you back together? If he held you tightly enough, could he replace the parts of you that were missing with his own? The sobs that escaped his lungs were violent, and quickly, some morphing into gagging. He felt sick. He had to turn himself away from you briefly to throw up, not wanting to soil what was left of you further, before he desperately held you again. Would it be the last time he held you?

Maybe if he took you back to the ship quickly enough, something of you could be salvaged. Maybe he couldn’t piece you back together, but he could find someone who would. There had to be something he could do. This couldn’t be it. He couldn’t lose like this again. 

He could barely stand. His body was already weak and your added dead weight made it even harder to balance. He picked up the parts of you strewn about on the ground he could quickly spot. Your hand, your shoulder, what he thought might be your bicep. He couldn’t find your forearm and he didn’t have time to properly search for it. Maybe someone could put all of you back together? Maybe you’d be whole again. He wanted you to be whole again. 

(He couldn’t save his people. He couldn’t save his mother. He couldn’t save his sister.)

(But things had to be different now, surely. He was a different person now. He had power, he had wealth, he had everything. What would it all be good for, if he couldn’t save you?)

Other IPC personnel met him outside the building as he stumbled out, and Aventurine’s mind was so hazy he couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening. He was pretty sure his own, now dead, workers had sent a distress signal. People rushed in to find anyone else from the wreckage. After, Aventurine found out he was the sole survivor. (He always was.)

(You had not survived.)

He demanded you be taken into surgery. That the medical staff on board had to get you to breathe again. For some reason, they had been hesitant. He threatened to have them fired or killed if they didn’t get to it. He set you as first priority, putting the best doctors they had on hand to work on you. 

They sewed you back together as best as possible at his insistence. They got your heart pumping blood again, they hooked you up to machines and forced your lungs to breathe. The surgery lasted for four hours.

It did not change the flatline on the screen signalling your brain activity. 

He could find the best doctors in the whole galaxy, but he already knew the line would remain flat. Nothing was bringing that back.

He stared at you for hours after your surgery. Interlaced his fingers with yours, feeling the artificial warmth of your hand. It did not feel like you. The temperature was wrong. The look on your face was wrong. Your body was wrong. Everything about what remained of you was wrong. 

He eventually laid his head on your chest, and then he cried.

He cried until the black spots in his vision grew so numerous he could no longer see, until everything faded and he could no longer hear the beeping and humming of the machines keeping you hollowly alive. 

(Why did he ever let himself love again?)

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Sorry that was messy I wrote everything today because I am con-crunching tomorrow and won't be available for like at least 3 days after this (usually I write over the span of multiple days so I can re-read for grammatical/spelling errors and so my language will be a little more varied + I get fresh ideas). Sorry this fic was ?? kind of messed up ??? I think ??? I think my perception of what's messed up and not is kind of weird (I grew up on warrior cats HELP.) so to me it didn't feel that fucked up to write about Aventurine literally picking up your body parts after you died but I've realised upon mentally summarising that part of the fic that maybe that was kinda horrific. Just a glimpse into my twisted mind heh 😈.... sorry

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Vanitas with a veterinarian partner?

“Are you going to be much longer? I’m hungry.”

“Just a little Vanitas, then I’ll be ready to lock up for the night and go to dinner.” [Y/N] said while he spun around on one of their stools.

They were taking notes from their clinic visits today. Diligent as ever about their work, [Y/N] would not leave until everything was in order and ready for the next day. He appreciated that about them. Or…at least he did now….

When they first met, Vanitas had not been so beguiled. Murr had been sick. Or at least that was what Noe insisted, all teary eyed and frantic, as he rushed him to the vet for a checkup. Distraught, he begged Vanitas to come with him, which he agreed to only to get the yelling to stop.

Once they arrived at [Y/N]’s clinic, it was like the atmosphere suddenly shifted. The room felt calm and serene by their presence, [Y/N] able to sooth both Noe and Murr seamlessly. Vanitas had to wonder if it was some kind of World Formula trick at first. In reality, it was just them.

Turns out nothing was wrong with Murr at all. He was just being a picky eater. That had been the end of his visits, but Vanitas kept coming around as if he was some sort of a stray cat. Looking for scraps and affection. Or was it just scraps of affection?

“There! All done. Now we can---“Please someone help me!!”

[Y/N] and Vanitas both rush to the front door to see what the commotion was. There stood a young girl. Holding a limp looking puppy in her arms. “My Elosie…she was struck by a carriage…” She explained through fat tears and hiccupped breathes. “Please! You have to save her!”

[Y/N] immediately went to look at the dog. Their expression serious, but then they looked back to catch a glimpse of Vanitas. “It’s alright. Go on.” Whatever plans they had was no where near as important as this now. A vision from his childhood flashing through his mind of similar fat tears, but no one to rescue the mutt he’d called his own that followed the trope around.

“Ok. Sweetheart, I need you to give her to me and we’ll take a look. I’ll do everything I can to help her.”

“I don’t…I don’t have any money…”

“That’s not important now.”

[Y/N] carried the dog to the back, brushing past Vanitas, with the little girl hot on her heels like a shadow. [Y/N] was very diligent at their job. They would be at this all night if need be to save the dog’s life. So, he decided it would just be best to leave. Come back later, with bread and salads and custards, and ask how it went. He didn’t believe in God much anymore, but he said a little prayer to someone that it would be alright and another small prayer for [Y/N]’s skilled hands.