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lost-and-ephemeral · 2 months

Note

Could you please do LDS boys +

Caleb reacting to reader being injured/severely injured?<3

HCs: You're Injured (ft. main trio + Caleb)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader, Caleb x reader (seperate)

Tags: hurt/comfort, reader is injured but won't die

A/N: Thanks for your request! First time writing for Caleb, yay. Sorry if it isn't good enough, I'm not feeling so good since morning.

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Caleb

"Hold on, pip-squeak, I'm right here."

Your exhausted body, covered in wounds from the battle with Wanderer, was ready to collapse to the ground if Caleb hadn't caught you in time.

He knew how dangerous your job was, but that didn't make him any less worried.

You protected him but got hurt in the process.

He's frustrated and angry because there's no way he could've protected you in that situation.

And Caleb just hates this feeling, but trying to stay calm for your sake. His emotions could only make everything worse.

"Sometimes even big girls need someone else's help. Right? And I'm here for you."

Concern was written all over his face, he couldn't hide it even if he really tried. The last thing he wanted was to see you hurt, especially like this.

He was supposed to be your main protector back then. But now things have changed.

You had really grown a lot, not just physically, but mentally too.

It was just hard to accept you're no longer a little girl.

Yes, you are strong and mature. But Caleb kept holding you like you were the most fragile being in the world.

He will give you first aid as quickly as he can, while calling an ambulance. Caleb is not the kind of person who would risk your life trying to handle this situation on his own.

Definitely going to the hospital with you while holding your hand and talking to you. He'll be around as long as it takes.

Probably will fall asleep on the chair near your hospital bed.

No doubt he'll continue to look after you like he did when you both were younger.

Rafayel

"No, no, no. Don't even think about leaving me like this!"

Maybe sometimes Rafayel was overly dramatic, but he's actually afraid of losing you again.

When he saw that you were injured after not-so-pleasant encounter with Wanderers, his facade of self-confidence instantly cracked.

Rafayel started panicking and it was clear from the look on his face as he crouched beside you, seeing how you trying to cover the wound by your bloody hands.

Not again. No.

All these years he had to watch you die over and over again, losing all memories of him.

Rafayel instantly began to examine your wounds, holding you close. He didn't care if his perfectly white shirt will be covered in blood as well.

He needed to be sure you won't die this time.

And his playful attitude is gone completely.

"Don't you dare to die on me, you hear? I won't forgive you. Ever. Promise me. Promise me you won't die."

He tried to remain calm and ignore the suffocating feeling of anxiety that has been slowly rising in his chest. But he couldn't.

Will do everything to stop the bleeding while help is on it's way. You can feel his hands trembling.

He'd better die for you himself, not vice versa.

I swear, this man is gonna get the whole hospital on alert. Nurses and doctors can be mad at him as much as they want. It doesn't matter to him.

Rafayel won't rest and eat properly until you get better. He just physically can't.

"Don't scare me like this ever again, please."

Xavier

"I failed you."

You accidentaly got injured during your mission. And poor Xavier decided it was totally his fault.

You both found yourself surrounded by enemies and before he could even react, one of them attacked you, leaving a deep wound on your side.

Needless to say, in the next couple of seconds all Wanderers were completely destroyed, and Xavier was fully focused on you.

This isn't the first time you've been injured during a mission. But each time Xavier is as worried as always.

Especially when your injuries are so severe.

Will administer first aid on the spot, even the bare minimum, before carrying you to safety.

With Wanderers around, it's not going to be easy to get you out of this dangerous zone. So Xavier needs to stabilize you a little at first.

"I won't let you get hurt again. I promise."

He is already experienced in these situations, so he's able to keep his emotions under control. But that doesn't mean that deep inside he isn't worried sick about you.

Will be looking for anything to treat your wound and avoid infection.

Guilt will slowly eat him up from the inside no matter what. He had to protect you, but he failed to do so.

Even if you assure him it's just an accident, Xavier just shakes his head in response.

As soon as you can get out, he'll take you to the hospital. It is unlikely that his skills will be enough to make your wound heal properly.

Better safe than sorry.

He still has a lot of work to do, but he'll come to you whenever he has a spare minute.

Will probably act like a guilty puppy for a long time.

Zayne

"You're constantly putting yourself in danger."

Zayne has a hard time showing his feelings openly, especially when it comes to you, so it's no surprise that his display of concern felt like he was scolding you.

But in reality he's really, really worried about you every time.

He knew right away that you were in the hospital after another accident.

And as soon as Zayne had some time off between surgeries, he came to you.

Looking at you in the hospital bed, he felt his heart ache.

While he was desperately searching for a cure for your heart, you kept getting hurt again and again.

Even when you smiled, like if trying to reassure him everything's fine, Zayne only sighed and shook his head. You have no idea how hard it was to see you hurt and vulnerable like this.

He's already been informed of the severity of your wounds and how much blood you've lost.

And he could've lost you.

But Zayne can't let his emotions take over. There are still a few more difficult surgeries ahead where he cannot afford to make a mistake.

And if he starts panicking right in front of you, it's not going to speed up the healing process.

"I'd be happy if you took a more responsible approach to your health. Then I wouldn't have to be so worried."

He moved his chair closer to your bed and sat in silence for a while, squeezing your hand.

Zayne will stay around as long as his job lets him.

Don't be surprised to find candies or plushies you wanted on your nightstand.

You can ask him about these little gifts.

And watch carefully as a faint smile appears on his lips.

"Usually only children get so excited about toys. So it turns out you're not that far from being a child?"

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader

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butterfluffy · 10 months

Text

strawhats + d. mihawk with a healer!s/o

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· what would it be like being a healer, and an s/o to these people?

⠀⠀➧ unlabeled | strawhats, d. mihawk (separate) x gn!reader | multi-character headcanons

⠀⠀➧ warnings — idk, none, ig? mistakes may be present tho.. so do ignore them, thanks.

⠀⠀➧ requests are closed, sorryyyyy..!

⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: finally writing to clear out my inbox aAaaaAahhHhhHHHHh

req by @n0body-1mportant

MONKEY D. LUFFY

This trouble maker captain right here is always injured lol

So that said, you always go on healing your big, trouble maker baby

Wild card : Though he can take punches, kicks, and even stabs without screaming in pain—Luffy starts whining like a poor puppy everytime he comes to ask you to patch him up.

“Y/n...! Look, look, I'm heavily injured! I'm reaallyy hurt! Won't you heal me!? And, and! Won't you give me a kiss, too, for doing a great job in beating that bastard's ass!?”

RORONOA ZORO

Same as his captain, the first mate is always injured—due to fights, his harsh training, and other causes

..Despite always being injured, Zoro hates getting himself patched up. But if you're the one doing the healing so he could get better, it's all good for him!

Wild card : Zoro doesn't care if he's greatly bleeding out during a fight—but outside a fight, if he got the smallest cut, Zoro immediately dashes to you to get himself healed up..!

“Hey, so, I was peeling myself apples a while ago using that ero-cook's damned knife—now I got this cut. Heal it now, and eat these with me, yeah?”

NAMI

Nami very much hates getting herself injured, especially getting scars

So Nami is quick to rush to you to get her injury fixed

Wild card : this happens quite rarely, since as said above, she hates getting scars—but, nami sometimes get herself injured on 'places' to see you flushed when she asks you to heal it~

“Babyyy..! Look, look! Look at my perfectly beautiful legs here! They've got a scar! Their beauty has been tarnished, so, please.. Take care of them, yeah~?”

USOPP

Usopp avoids getting himself injured at all cost.

And when he does get injured, he screeches as he dash towards you with tears on his eyes, asking you to heal his injury ASAP.

Wild card : I have this headcanon for Usopp where he's a real clutz, so he always has an injury here and there, and wounds that he doesn't know where it came from.

“Y-Y/n..! W..When I woke up, I saw this new wound on my arm..! I..I don't know where it came from—it's probably from the spirits that I've angered, waaahh!!”

(it was caused by Luffy. He was dreaming that Usopp was a piece of meat, and bit him during their sleep. 💀)

VINSMOKE SANJI

As the left hand man of the ship's captain, Sanji is always out on a fight to support his captain, so injuries are unavoidable.

He's developed durability to the beating up he receives and shows it off his coolness to you, BUT AFTER THE FIGHT, he whines.

Wild card : This perv right here always has a nosebleed everytime you go patch up his beaten up ass, causing you more trouble.

“My loveee..! I'm injured, I'm badly hurt..! Everything's so painful, so please, heal me with your magic kiss—*you kiss him* *he nosebleeds*”

NICO ROBIN

Robin isn't a big fan of getting injuries during combat, or whenever.

Though despite being injured, she handles it like a Queen! (You don't.)

Wild card : As said above she handles her injuries like the Queen she is, BUT, you don't—you're more panicked when she's injured as she stays calm while telling you some morbid jokes.

“Darling.. Please calm down. I'm not going to die, you know? All I got is this small scratch the size of a severed finger, so, don't worry about me too much, okay?”

FRANKY

SUPEEEERRRRR Franky right here who's a barely gets himself injured.

↑ Why? Because, he's a cyborg, a cool one who will barely get a scratch..!

Wild card : ...When Franky does get injured for some reason being during a fight or where else, he starts crying like a small child to you as he asks you to heal him...!

“Waaahh! This damned injury hurts so bad..! It's SUPEEEERRRR painful, I'm gonna cry! Y/n, Y/n, quick, quickly, heal me and ease my pain..!!”

DRACULE MIHAWK

The greatest swordsman? Injured?? Pfft, not a chance.

Though when he's going against strong fellas, he gets some scratches here and there, which he deals with by himself—not wanting to bother you.

Wild card : Mihawk doesn't show it, but, he loves, and finds it cute when you insist on helping him with his injury that he already had managed, or can obviously handle fixing by himself.

“My dear... I already fixed my injury, so don't worry about it. But.. If you really insist on using your ability to speed up the healing process.. Alright. I'll let you.”

⠀⠀ʚїɞ · likes, comments, reblogs, and/or feedbacks are highly appreciated!

#ੈ♡˳· butterfluffy #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #one piece headcanons #monkey d. luffy x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #nami x reader #usopp x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #nico robin x reader #franky x reader #dracule mihawk x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 6 months

Note

de-aged Danny is one of my babies,

Shit hits the fan with the giw and Danny is super injured and Clockwork has to mess with some things so Danny doesn’t return to his core being vulnerable and sends him millions of miles away to Gotham and in the process Danny becomes 6/10 years old and is weeks healed due to being smaller and costing less ectoplasm but is still achy, Danny is steered to Jason’s apartment where he just got off his shift and then his is the twist! Jason is mute due to an accident with the joker and Batman (batman unintentionally causing his muteness) and out of reflex of a child on his counter hand first into a box of Cheerios let’s put a exasperated noise of flames and a lighter and Danny responds with his own spark of electricity and Jason is shocked (hehe) that Danny can understand and even communicate can he just lets out everything he’s been doing since “holy shit I can talk to someone normally” and then he realizes this child has the same scar as him and is pissed but Danny calms him down and calms the pits and he’s like “okay you’re mine now shit- I’m like Bruce- no. I’ll think about this later-“ Danny is super cute and Jason is having a field day with parent hood and Jason gives Danny a comm for when he goes out but he’s only allowed to speak in ghost speak and the rest are confused when Jason sprints away and they follow to see Danny in Jason’s arms being lulled to sleep with a man on the ground knocked out or dead who knows not Jason because it was shoot & punch and ask questions later and then Danny says sleepily “Oh your daddy’s brothers, hi” like it’s normal to meet family in this situation and Jason puts him to bed before signing “Say anything to Bruce and you will never be called uncle or attend his birthday in your life.”

Bruce only finds out when Jason some how ends up super injured and can’t sign and Danny translates (no editing just straight he said fucking hell) and introduces himself as Danny Todd, Bruce privately cried a little

The Waynes knew that Jason had become far more distant since his accident. Bruce blamed himself, but in the end, it was Joker all over again.

The family had been on other missions when a distress call from Bruce came in. They all raced to give aid- if it was Bruce calling, then you know it was a huge deal- only to find their father figure pressing his hands desperately to the neck of a bleeding Jason.

The Joker had sliced his neck in one of his sick games.

They were able to get him to medical aid and save his life, but the damage to his vocal cords had been too severe. Jason would never be able to speak again.

Since then, Jason has kept his distance. The whole family was fluent in sign language- one of the first of many languages Bruce had them learn for their Bat training- but it only helped them if Jason wanted to sign around them.

It felt like the second oldest was actively trying to avoid the acknowledgment of his injury. Little by little, Jason began to drift away from the family. He no longer arrived early for family dinners to help Alfred cook, he did not say for games or movies afterward, he found excuses to not hang out with the family members, and even after patrol, he left as soon as he finished.

Even texts were becoming less and less frequent. The Wayne children attempt to surprise visit him just so they can make sure he isn't alone until Jason starts jumping between safe houses.

Jason is isolating himself, and the Waynes are alarmed by the way he is retreating into himself. This continued for months, and nothing they did worked to help him.

Despite the desperate attempts to connect to him, Jason was too far gone to be reached. He did not die, but they lost him all the same.

Then, one day, out of the blue, Jason's distance changed. Yes, he was still not coming around the family much, but the sadness on his shoulders loosened.

His demeanor was still tired, but not as if his soul was exhausted. He still ran off after patrol, but instead of a shameful shuffle, his stride was more excited.

No one knew why, but Wyanes breathed a sigh of relief at the change.

They also had some theories.

"He has a lover!" Dick exclaims after watching Jason run off the second Bruce dismisses them. He had stopped to clean himself up a little before riding out as Jason, the civilian. "He's going to go get ready for a hot date."

"He found a new book series." Duke offered as Jason seemed to be writing in a little notebook. He was thoughtful and dazed as he wrote like whatever notes he took were something he would revisit again. "He is writing fanfiction again."

"His crime empire is being threatened, so he is slowly picking off traitors," Tim proposed after seeing Jason upgrade his security to his home and safe houses. He even added a new line to the cons so that he could listen to his home like a Bat version of a baby monitor. "Doing it quick and quietly to not let them escape."

"He is going back to school!" Steph announced happily when she saw him at the store buying school supplies. "He can finally get that diploma he has always wanted!"

"He has found a new passion for a hobby," Damian countered after seeing Jason look over his old art easel. Jason had asked Damian what he recommended for a beginner. "It's allowing him to have an outlet in a creative, healthy manner."

"He has fallen for a book character again and can't tell the difference between reality and Fiction." Bruce fretted after seeing Jason chuckle to himself at post-it notes that had little hearts in his lunch box. They were signed by Jason's favorite characters in a writing that was reasonably similar to Jason's.

Cass only smiled knowingly, but she always seemed to know more of what was happening than the rest, no matter the situation.

The only other person who knew more than her was Alfred, but that man would never share secrets with anyone for any reason.

Jason seemed unaware of their theories or concerns (Bruce) since he was always busy doing whatever he was doing. It got to the point they decided to follow him about, only becoming more confused when Jason visited places like pre-schools and kid-friendly parks around the city.

It didn't help that Jason caught on to the fact he was being followed, leading the Bats all over the city to random locations and had them fumbling about what was a natural destination and what was retaliation for the trailing.

Then, one night, while the Bats were meeting up on a rooftop for some briefing and a breather, the new con line sprung to life, scaring everyone connected to it out of their skins.

"There is a strange man in the house!" A voice screeched. A young voice, one that didn't even sound like it belonged to someone who had reached their double digits.

At once, Jason jumped from his slouched-over position near the building's roof door and flung himself over the edge. His grabbing hook hissed as the large man threw himself across the rooftops frantically.

Stunned, the Bats watched him go, unsure of what was happening, until the young voice spoke again, a soft whisper. "He is in the hall- he has a knife."

A strange crackle of fire and electricity was heard over the con, and it took them all a moment to realize that it had come from Jason. The child- a boy based on the voice- responded with a slight tremble. "I'm hiding in my closet. I'm scared."

The words of a distressed child kickstart their brains, and everyone snaps to attention.

"Oracle, where is the signal originating from?" Bruce snaps, throwing himself over the edge to follow Jason. The rest of the family is right behind him.

"Jason's safe house in Uptown Gotham," Babs responds instantly with the accompanying clicking of her keyboard. She sucks a breath through her teeth in a pained hiss. "B, the address for Jason's safe house... it's connected to Upper Smiles Preschool for Danny Todd. Jason is marked as his father."

There is ice in everyone's veins when she says that as Danny- Jason's son- lets out a choked sob, then a scream that horrifies everyone as they try to run faster. "He found me! Help! Help! Daddy! Help!"

A boom goes off across the communicator, and they know Jason is responsible for the nose, but there is no explosion. Not that it matters.

They, too, understand what Jason meant by the strange noise he made- it's a protective rage that someone would dare to even think of harming one of their own.

Every Wayne pushes themselves past their limits, unwilling to let themselves be too late.

"Hold on, sweetheart, help is on the way. Hit him with anything around you until it gets there." Babs tells him, her voice cracking as Danny cries, and a man yelling can be heard.

"You little shit!" An unknown roars, and everyone hates him instantly. "I'll teach you some fucking manners!"

"Let me go! Let me go!"

They are ten minutes out even when they drop into the batmobile and company bikes. Jason is only eight. But every second feels like a lifetime as they listen to what Danny is going through.

There are sounds of struggles, of a tiny voice screaming and crying, then- gunshots.

Two loud and clear gunshots. Then silence, the kind that makes even a grave loud.

Bruce's grip on the steering wheel tightens to the point of pain, and everyone is in no better state. The silence over the con is just as devastating as Jason's mournful crackle, like a dying fire.

No. No gods, no, please don't let this mean Danny is-

"Not to worry, dear child, I am here." Alfred's warm, soothing voice is heard, and everyone almost collapses in relief. Danny's cries are muffled like his face is pressed against something as Alfred coos. "It's alright. It's alright, you're safe now. Shh"

Jason makes a sound similar to thunder.

"Yes, Master Jason, I was in the neighborhood. I wanted to bring my great-grandson a little present and saw this healthen mucking about where he does not belong. I shall be moving Danny to the manor."

It's a command that does not allow any arguing, but no one dares to say anything as they collectively change direction to the manor. Patrol for the night has been canceled.

They had a new little addition to the family that needed them more than ever. Now that they knew about him, they would never allow Jason to keep Danny away from them.

Later in the night, after hugs, kisses, and greetings, Danny is painting alongside Damian. He standing on a small stool to reach the easel, wearing an apron with the Batman symbol, and is smiling like there are no troubles in the world.

Everyone's heart melts when he asks them if they can sit still for him to paint a family portrait. He isn't Jason's by blood, but that has hardly mattered to a family such as the Waynes.

All they need to know is that Danny was found wandering around Jason's old safe house, speaking in the strange sounds that Jason could make, and was the cause for the second oldest to regain his joy of life.

All that mattered was that tiny, little six-year-old Danny Todd was one of theirs, and they would love him with all their hearts.

Master Post Link

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Red ParentHood #Danny is deaged #He doesn't have his memories of being a teen #Jason and Danny use Ghost Speak which is the sound related to their deaths to communicate #tw: child endangerment #tw: gun mention #Alfred once again the MVP #The Wayne's pov of Jason

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shun-nie · 9 months

Text

SatoSugu x reader

=>They can't reach you while you're on a mission.

—>a little angst to fluff

!!!!!swearing, gn!reader, mentions of death!!!!!

"Why did Yaga-Sensei gave the mission to Y/N anyway?" Satoru said as he frowned, you left early this morning and still didn't came back.

"Because Y/N always finishes their work smoothly, they always thinks logically and moves smart in missions." Suguru replies, he missed you too. He was also annoyed that Yaga-Sensei gave the mission to you but it was understandable why he did that. Suguru sighs, he and Satoru were sitting on a bench, sulking beacuse you're not here.

"I missed Y/N, Suguru. Why haven't they come back yet? The mission shouldn't be too hard for them right?" Satoru whined, it was so boring without you. And you always finished the missions quickly, plus you would call them if you were going to be late. Suguru frowned, what if something had happened to you? Sure you were strong and smart (pretty too) but anything could happen right?

Suguru immediately took his phone out of his pocket, went into his contacts and tapped your name. Satoru stopped whining and turned his gaze to Suguru, watching him get impatient as you didn't pick up. Suguru called you for the second time, after ringing a few times, he heard the message "the person you are calling cannot be reached at the moment, please try again later". Suguru looked at the phone screen, why weren't you picking up?

"They usually pick up the phone even if they're busy..." Satoru said quietly, he was thinking the worst scenario. Did you got hurt? Oh god. What if you did?

Suguru got up from the bench and looked at Satoru, Satoru undertood what he meant even if he didn't say anything. He stood up as well, they both walked off to find Yaga.

[meanwhile]

"Fuck, this shit hurts." you said as you clenched your fists, pressing a cloth over the bleeding wound. The mission went smoothly, there was two 1st grade curses. You got rid of them but then a special grade showed up, and there was a little girl in its hands. You had to save the child first, you did save the child and killed off the special grade but you were injured badly.

"Y-Y/N-san, please don't-please don't die!!!" the little girl cried out, tears running down her face. You panicked a little but calmed down.

"Hey, I won't die. Don't worry. I'm one of the strongests, y'know?" you grinned, you actually felt like shit and your head was hurting, there was a ringing in your ears, your phone was broken, you were bleeding from multiple spots. 'Fuck, I'll probably die.' you thought, guilty that you lied to the little girl.

"W-what do we do?! You'll die!!!" the little girl cried even louder, hugging your body close. Not wanting to let go. You sighed and pat her head, thinking of a way out.

"Say, what's your name?" you asked gently.

"Y-Yume..."

"Yume, that's a pretty name. Just like you." You said and smiled, Yume wiped her tears. Looking at you.

"Yume, can you find me a long stick?"

[...]

"Sensei, we have to look for them!! Let us leave!!

"I said no, Satoru. Y/N is strong, no need to worry about them."

Satoru clenches his teeth, clearly angry. Yaga refused to tell where you are and both Satoru and Suguru were worried about your safety. Sure, you were strong. There is no doubt in that, but you were still human and not an immortal. You could've die while they were sitting on a bench doing literally nothing. Suguru frowned at the idea of you dying alone, he wouldn't want that. You didn't deserve that.

Yaga couldn't reach you too, you didn't pick up his calls either. He was worried too, but he knew you were strong and believed that you would manage to get the work done.

"Sensei, we know Y/N is strong. But that doesn't change the fact they can get hurt." Suguru said, trying to remain calm. Yaga looked at them and opened his mouth to talk but Haibara opened the door harshly, he had a scared look on his face. Satoru and Suguru shared a look before looking at Haibara, Yaga was about to scold him for not knocking but he got silent as his eyes widened at Haibara's words.

"SENSEI!!! Y/N-SAN CAME INJURED, THEY'RE NOT BREATHING!!!!"

[...]

"..-/N...!"

".Y/-....!"

"Y/N!!"

"..The hell do you want? Don't scream in my ear you dumb fuck..." you said with a tired tone and opened your eyes slowly. Blinking multiple times to adjust the lights.

You saw 2 familiar faces when you opened your eyes, then you sense that there are 3 people in the room. All the eyes on you.

"Glad to see you're the same even if you came back from death." you heard Shoko's voice, she sound tired. And her voice was hoarse, did she cry?

You tried to process what had happened for a few seconds, and when you remembered what had happened, you immediately sat up in bed. Your head, throbbing as you did so. Suguru and Satoru were looking at you with concerns, Satoru probably cried as his eyes were red. Oh. Oh shit.

"Yume...Where is Yume? Is she okay?" You asked quickly, turning your gaze to Shoko, she sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, there was not even a scratch on her body. She's sleeping in your room." Shoko said and got silent for a moment before talking again.

"You almost died and you're not even worried about yourself..?" Shoko said quietly. You sighed and let Suguru lay you down on the bed.

"I'm sorry. The special grade just showed up, I couldn't just left Yume to it's hands." you replied quietly, "Sorry..." You said again. Suguru kissed your forehead, he was holding your hand as your other hand was being held by Satoru. Shoko walked over to your bed and kissed your cheek, it hurted to see you in this position.

"Just rest, yeah? Don't worry much about it." she said and walked towards the door, leaving the room to smoke her stress off. You were left with Satoru and Suguru, Satoru was resting his head on your stomach as he played with your fingers. Suguru was stroking you hand with his thumb, probably think of which words he should say.

"Satoru, Suguru. I'm sorry I worried you both." You said, not looking at them. Satoru pulled his chair closer to your bed, kissing the side of your lip softly before grinning. Teasing you about how depressed you sound, you teased back telling he looks as depressed as you. Suguru watched you both and smiled to himself.

He was glad you didn't left them.

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seravphs · 1 year

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER

When Megumi gets injured on a mission, you realize you’re not capable of taking care of a child.

wc — 1.8k

tags — misunderstandings; self doubt; the pitfalls of teenage parenting when you’re all child soldiers; mild angst with a happy ending; happens post sometimes a family is you, teen dad Gojo, and the six year old child he accidentally orphaned, part I of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together.

You shove Megumi into his arms, a bundle of bloody black fabric and dead weight. Gojo doesn’t stumble - he never does - but it’s a close call as he instinctively wraps his arms around whatever you’ve pushed onto him.

“Teleport! Teleport!” You’re so frantic you’re incoherent. It takes a full minute, a minute you don’t have, before you realize that you can’t just say things. Gojo, as invincible as he is, can’t read your mind. You have to explain what’s going on, but how can you focus when Megumi is bleeding out? His little face is growing paler and paler by the second.

His hands are so tiny. Why is that the only thing you can focus on? They’re grasping the front of Gojo’s jacket for dear life as he coughs weakly.

“Teleport him back to HQ! Get Shoko!”

You resist the urge to shake Gojo by his lapels, slap some sense into him. It would only hurt Megumi. Why won’t he move?

“I can’t!”

“What do you mean you can’t? Go! He’s losing so much blood, you have to go now!”

You know you’re getting hysterical, but Megumi is dying right in front of you.

“I can’t teleport! There are conditions-“

“He’s going to die!”

“Stop- I need to think!”

In the back of your head, you can hear Shoko telling you in that cool and detached tone of hers that you’re hyperventilating.

Look, she says, you see that? You’re breathing too quickly. You feel lightheaded, right?

Gojo spreads his jacket out on the ground of the forest. “Help me get him ready. I’m going to sew up the cut.”

“Let me-“

“I’ll do it. I’ve done Getou’s before. You just focus on keeping him breathing.”

You can do that.

Hunched over Megumi’s body, Gojo gets to work. He looks so frail, spread on the grass with only Gojo’s jacket beneath him. His eyes are normally dark, but they’re blacker with pain, his pupils swallowing up his irises.

The first puncture of the needle makes him wail before he slaps his hand over his mouth. You peel it back and make vaguely soothing noises, trying to be comforting.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you murmur, letting him rest his head in your lap.

“You can scream, Megumi. I know it hurts. Oh, honey, I know. I know.” He’s making this face that agonizes you. His nose is all scrunched up as he clenches his jaw. He’s the type of kid that would rather chew up his suffering and swallow it back down then let anyone see it.

This happened on your watch.

Sick self hatred rises in your throat.

Gojo would’ve never let anything happen to Megumi.

He whimpers quietly and you flinch. Without even thinking of it, you reach for his hand. You force yourself not to tremble. You’re an adult. It’s your responsibility not to scare him like that.

His eyes are closed as Gojo grimly works the needle through, but there’s a jump in his frantic heartbeat, as tiny as a rabbit’s. You can detect it through the pulsing vein in his wrist, funneling blood to the injury only to waste it on air.

He’s such a brave kid - your brave little boy. You smooth his sticky wet hair back from his face, damp with sweat. He moans in pain and twists away. Your heart crumples.

It takes so much for him to be vocal about anything that hurts him. How much pain must he be in?

“Gojo,” you say.

“I’m trying!”

You know. Going any faster is likely to have dangerous consequences. This is the only way. How cruel. You have to hurt him to help him, and isn’t that just the story of your parenthood?

You curl around him, protective as if your body can shield him from his own body working against itself. The more blood he loses, the harder his body fights to keep him alive.

It’s an infinitely long minute before Gojo proclaims the grim deed finished. Megumi had passed out long beforehand, his death grip on your fingers slackening as the pain pushed him into nothingness.

He wakes up on the long drive back to campus. Ijichi has never bent so many speeding limits in his life. Normally a careful driver, he shoots furtive looks at the kid staining his back seats red. You can feel his judgment of what kind of parent you are settling over you.

Shoko must be thinking the same thing as she patches Megumi up in your kitchen. Her reverse cursed technique seals the cut up in seconds flat, though a scar remains, puckering the flesh of his forearm.

“Just like Utahime,” Gojo tells him, pinching his cheek. “You didn’t cry either, so you’re better than her.”

“Don’t talk about your seniors like that,” you say absentmindedly, though your mind could not be further from disciplining Gojo for his poor behavior.

You can’t send Megumi to the Zenins. You know what they’d do to a sweet kid like him. They’d turn him into a monster like his father. You shudder, thinking of the creature from your nightmares who had stolen the life of a sixteen year old girl, and nearly taken Gojo with him. You could never let them do that to Megumi. They probably wouldn’t take care of Tsumiki either, unless to hold her over his head. But just because they aren’t fit caretakers doesn’t mean you are.

“Hey.”

Gojo’s been trying to get your attention for who knows how long. When he sees that he finally has it, he sends Megumi off to bed and jerks his thumb at the door. Wordlessly, you follow him to the porch. It’s dimly lit from a singular overhead bulb without a covering. The two of you stand in a circle of light, the night outside pressing in against the walls of your home.

“What is it?” He says impatiently. “I fixed everything, didn’t I? Why are you still upset?”

“It’s not you,” you say. It’s so cliche, but what else is there to say? “It’s my fault.”

“Don’t,” he says softly.

You pull your hand back when he tries to take it. There’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in denying both of you what you want. You don’t deserve this.

He’s silent for a long time. You let the silence stew, determined to outlast him. Quickly, it becomes clear who has the upper hand. You shift from side to side, nervous and tense, while he just waits with his hands shoved in his pockets. When you finally look over, he’s wearing his sunglasses again. His hair glows under the porch light, attracting moths. “Finally felt like playing nice?”

He’s attractive when he’s mean. You hate that about him, the way the cruel twist of his mouth ties knots into your stomach. It would all be easier if you could hate him, but everything he does only makes you love him more.

What a twisted little family you’ve built for yourself.

He sighs. “Stop that. Don’t-“ he waves his hand in your general direction in frustration. “You always do that. It’s not your fault.”

“He needs a real parent, Gojo. I couldn’t protect him.”

“I was there too,” he says. “You don’t see me agonizing over my mistakes. It happens.”

What mistake, you think bitterly. Gojo’s only fault is trusting you with Megumi. He’s the strongest. If it was him, nothing would’ve happened.

“It wasn’t your mistake. It was mine. If I hadn’t been there, everything would have been fine.”

“Again?” Gojo says quietly.

It’s a forceful reminder of how much you sound like Getou right now. He never recovered from what that monster - Megumi’s father - did to him. Even now, your class lives with the scars of that day. Gojo’s face is wistful for a brief moment, deluged by memories. Then it’s gone, wiped from his expression like it had never been there.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say, wondering if it’s too late to take it back.

Gojo never falters. He’s unreasonable and childish, but he’s as solid as stone. You’ve watched him shoulder every single burden he’s ever been asked to carry since he was a child, and now he’s taken on one more. You promised Gojo that you would watch his back, regardless of whether he needed you or not. The words you spoke in a fit of anger and self pity bring you regret now. Weakness isn’t just failing to shield Megumi from all the dangers of sorcery that you wish you and Gojo had been protected from. Weakness is running away when it gets hard.

Megumi’s your baby.

You’re not going to give him up.

A step forward has you pressing into Gojo’s space. He doesn’t yield, watching you with those ancient eyes.

“I know it’ll only get harder, but it has to be us, right? Who else will keep him safe from the Zenins? I won’t leave, Gojo. I promise.”

His relieved expression contrasts with his smug words. There’s a crooked smile on his face when he says, “I knew you wouldn’t just abandon us. You think Megumi wants to stay with me? You’re the one keeping him here.”

“I get it,” you smack his arm. “No need for flattery. I’m with you until the end.”

“I’m not kidding,” he protests. “There’s no universe in which Megumi likes me more than you.”

How can you stay upset when he looks so proud of himself for finally figuring out the right thing to say to get you to stay?

“He doesn’t,” you insist.

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Here, I’ll prove it.”

It’s not uncommon for Gojo to put Megumi to bed. In fact, it’s a chore he fights you for. It’s probably one of his favorite parts of having Megumi around. He likes telling stories, and surprisingly enough, he’s good at it. He gives each character its own voice. More often than not, he ends up as invested in the bedtime story as Megumi is. Tonight, when he closes the book, he doesn’t leave. The soft light of the lamp on the bedside table shines through a crack in the door as Gojo and Megumi talk in hushed whispers.

“I want my mom,” he says quietly.

You lean against the door, pressing your head to the wood to try to keep yourself from falling to the ground. You want to try. You want to be there for him. But Megumi needs his mother, not some teenager who can’t even take control of her own life, much less a child’s. You’re all he has, though, and you have to make it work. You wish Mrs. Fushiguro was still alive, even if that means you would’ve never gotten to meet him.

“Then ask her to come in,” Gojo says.

Megumi makes a startled noise. You can almost see him burrowing into his blankets.

“Go on,” Gojo coaxes. “Oh, come on. Don’t be shy now. You really won’t? Fine.”

He calls to you. “Come in, sweetheart. Don’t keep us waiting.”

The first thing you see when you open the door is Megumi’s head buried beneath the covers. Gojo’s trying to peel the sheets back.

“What are you hiding for? I brought you your mom! You should be thanking me!”

“I hate you!”

“I told you,” Gojo says. “He loves you more than me.”

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojou fluff

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familyvideostevie · 3 months

Text

you have me, you have me only

joel miller x reader you get (minorly) injured on patrol. joel does his best to patch you up and not worry too much. | jackson!joel, hurt/comfort, wound-patching, some blood, a jesse cameo, joel being joel, all that good stuff. | 4.2k a/n: part of the just and just as verse. not too soft but not too angsty, either. just another day after the end of the world, you know? thank you @mrsmando for your eyes on this! <3

___

"Almost there," you mutter. "Fuck."

The icy winter wind dulls the stinging in your palms to a numbness. The leather gloves you've had for half a decade stay tucked in your pockets. You don't want to ruin their lining with dirt and blood.

"How's the head?"

Jesse pulls up alongside you in a trot. The adrenaline from your patrol-gone-wrong pulses heavy at the top of your spine, your vision sharp and the whole world a little too loud around you as Jackson comes into view at the bottom of the hill. Your head, like the rest of you, throbs.

"I'll live."

He scoffs and his horse snorts as if agreeing with him. In truth, you're more pissed than injured, though it certainly looks like you lost a fight. Jesse's cheekbone will no doubt bloom purple tomorrow and his lip is still bleeding sluggishly. His jeans are splattered with gore, same as yours.

"Thanks for back there," he says.

You shrug and wince when it pulls at the skin of your side where you fell.

"You, too," you tell him with a grimace. "That was quick thinking with the brick."

You like him -- he's good at his job and he's a good friend to Ellie. You know Tommy and Maria are not-so-subtly training him to run this place someday if he wants to. As a patrol partner, you can't ask for much better. He knows all the routes and he's a good shot and his mom knows everything there is to know about everyone in town and sometimes he passes tidbits on to you.

But knowing your shit doesn't mean a damn thing in this world, sometimes. You can still get ambushed by infected on patrol and it can still fuck up your day.

He waves you off. "I just can't believe an elk chose our station to fucking die in."

"Tommy is going to shit himself when you tell him," you laugh. It pulls at your ribs. God, is there any part of you that didn't take a beating?

"He'll just be pissed he wasn't here."

Your horses reach the bottom of the hill and Jesse hesitates, the green scrap of cloth in his hand. The red one indicating an injured party peeks out from his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the clinic?"

"I'm fine," you say firmly. "I can patch up at home."

He eyes the cut on your forehead and your scraped palms but caves under your glare and waves the green flag.

"Joel makes the same face," he mutters. "Ellie does, too. Freaky."

The gates open and you grunt when you get off your horse, palms back to stinging.

"Joel's two expressions are pissed and annoyed," you say. “Not hard to pick one up.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead and it comes back tacky with blood. "Fuck."

"I don't think you'll need a stitch." Jesse holds his hand out for your patrol rifle and pats the neck of your horse. "I'll debrief and get these guys settled. You go home."

Normally, you'd protest. But you really just want to take a hot shower and sleep for twelve hours, so you nod and shoulder your pack carefully.

"Make sure you tell Tommy about beating a stalker to death with a brick," you call over your shoulder. "He'll be impressed."

Jesse laughs.

Snow crunches under your boots on the way home. Fuck, you're exhausted. The adrenaline fades with each step and the aches become sharp pains. There aren't too many people out today on account of the cold but you nod and wave, ignoring the double takes at the blood on your clothes.

It'll be a pain in the ass if you can't patch the ruined knees of your jeans. Maybe you can convince Joel to carve something for the woman down the street who can sew better than anyone in town. Finding new pants is damn near impossible.

You’re practically dragging your feet by the time you reach your house. The mailbox labeled Miller, the wind chimes gently swaying on the porch, all of it puts you at ease. You made it home.

The porch steps groan as you climb them and the front door opens from the inside as you reach the top. Joel steps out, hand still on the knob when he looks up and sees you. His eyes widen.

He was on patrol today, too. You left at the same time but he had a shorter route and must have gotten back a while ago.

"Are you coming to meet me?" you say with a grin that's genuine despite the way your body pulses with pain. He does this sometimes -- milling around the gate, chatting with people on the wall as he waits for you to return. You never really feel like you're home until you see his face.

Joel does not smile back. His eyes rake over you the same way he surveys a room, cataloging all of the important things. The gash on your temple, the rips in your jeans, the way you're favoring your left side. The blood, too -- it's everywhere, you're sure. Palms, knees, collar. Jesse helped you wipe your face before you rode back so that you could see without blood in your eyes, but you must look pretty fucking rough.

"Jesus," he says. His hand twitches like he's going to reach for you. "You okay?"

"I'll be better when I'm not standing out in the cold."

His nostrils flare and he heads back into the house, you on his heels. You dump your pack and sit down heavily on the bench to take off your boots. Joel beats you to it, lowering to one knee with a slight groan, fingers working at your laces.

Normally he'd ask how patrol was, how Jesse did, if you saw anything interesting. Instead, his cheek twitches like he's clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He unties your double knots with practiced ease and his silence fills the entryway of your house.

In another life, the sight of him on one knee would set your heart aflutter. As it is, you want to run a hand through his hair and smooth the worry lines on his forehead. You know him and this is how he handles it -- he chews on blame that doesn't belong on his shoulders until he can fix it.

"I'm fine," you say softly. You open and close your hands, resting them on your knees. You got most of the gravel out but there's dirt and god knows what else embedded in the tender flesh. Joel pulls off one boot with a firm hand on your calf and then the other before finally looking up at you.

"You wanna explain...this, then?"

His hand waves up in your general direction. There's no tremble in his palm but his brows are furrowed, his shoulders set in that way of his, like he's bracing for bad news. You have a rule about not lying to each other. So if you say you're fine, you're fine. Achey, bloody, and gross, sure. But you made it home in one piece and now you'll let him take care of you and he has to be okay with that.

But you don't mind reassuring him. He worries, and you know the feeling.

You shrug and fail to hide your wince. Joel wraps a hand around your ankle and squeezes lightly.

"I've had worse," you say. "I'll tell you about it if you patch me up."

He softens a little and sighs. It won't do anything to remind him that he can't go back in time and stop you from getting hurt. Joel knows he can't fix everything, can't keep everyone he loves away from harm, can't save the world. Won't, if it comes at the expense of the people in his heart.

But you can give him something to do -- a way to make it better. You could probably bandage your hands and your forehead and the rest on your own but it'll help him just as much as you if he does it.

Life in this world is a constant give and take. You have to be okay with some things, with cuts and bruises and ruined clothes if it means you survived. There's no safety, not anymore.

"Alright, c'mon," he says, standing with a groan. "Upstairs, 'fore you bleed on the furniture."

He holds out a hand for you to stand but you show him your mangled palm. Joel clicks his tongue and grips your forearm gently instead as you rise.

"Gotta clean that," he says.

"That's the plan." You leave your coat and pack behind in a heap and head for the stairs. "A hot shower sounds so fucking good right now."

Joel stops you with a hand on your elbow and you turn on the bottom step. He traces the cut on your forehead with light fingers and you try not to wince.

"Shower," he says. "I'll patch you up after." His tone leaves no room for argument.

You ghost your fingertips along his jaw and smile at him.

"Yes sir, Mr. Miller, sir."

More tension melts from his shoulders and he rolls his eyes at you. You laugh all the way to the bathroom, even though it hurts a little.

It's been a while since one of you returned from patrol with any sort of injury. Winter means the hoards are sluggish and easy to track and tends to keep groups of people from coming to the valley and making trouble. Today was bad luck and could have been much worse.

You both know how quickly all of the good in your lives can be snatched away. Everyone does.

But you just can't dwell on it. Joel knows it, too, and letting him fuss over you in that way of his will remind him. You're home. You're okay.

You leave the bathroom door cracked as you shower under the gentle spray. Your various injuries sting but you manage to clean the scrapes on your knees and hands and wash the blood from your skin and hair, the water rusty brown as it swirls around the drain.

Joel knocks when you're almost done and the hinges groan when he steps into the bathroom.

"Leavin' you clothes," he says, voice raised so you hear over the spray. "You okay?"

"Still alive," you call back. "Almost done."

The water starts to turn lukewarm so you switch off the stream and drag back the curtain. Joel is nowhere to be found but he's left you loose shorts so your knees are exposed and a big, faded graphic t-shirt that you brought home for him as a joke last year as well as fresh underwear and warm socks. You gently pat your skin dry with an old and scratchy towel and do your best with your hair before sliding them on.

Joel knocks again and this time he has the bag with all of your first aid stuff in his hands. The steam from your shower rushes out into your bedroom and you shiver.

He jerks his chin at the counter. "Wanna get up there?"

You haul yourself up with a groan and he stands between your knees, arms crossed and head cocked.

"What're we dealin' with, here?"

You look down at your messy palms and rattle off what hurts.

"Cut on my forehead, bruised rib, probably, fucked up hands and knees, and..." You look up and find Joel running a hand down his face. "That's it."

"You sure?"

You glare at him. He glares back. His eyes drift to your forehead gash.

"Cut could use a stitch."

He's still tense, you can tell, probably will be until he wakes up tomorrow and you're still next to him in bed. Until the wounds turn to scabs turn to scars. Maybe not even then.

"I think I've had enough cuts over the years to know what needs a stitch."

His eyebrows rise just a little bit, turning his expression from interrogative to exasperated, but he knows better than to tell you to do something when you’ve set your mind against it.

"They're offerin' medical degrees on the Creek Trails, now?"

"Joel."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he says. "Let me feel your ribs."

You raise your arms a little and he slides his palms under your shirt and up your torso, pressing gently as he goes. Braless as you are, he brushes the underside of your breast, and your breath hitches. His eyes are soft with quiet amusement but he doesn't tease you.

"Your hands are warm," you murmur. He reaches the place on your side that took the brunt of the impact and you hiss.

"Sorry," he says. "Doin' real good. Deep breath for me." You obey and he withdraws, satisfied.

"Nothin' broken," he says.

"Told you."

He hums and pulls out the precious few disinfectant wipes from your first aid kid. You can get Joel to do a lot of things just by asking, but arguing with him about wasting supplies on you never works. He washes his hands in the sink and glares are you like he knows what you’re thinking.

"Forehead first, then hands, then knees," he says. "Okay?'

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. He grips your face with gentle fingertips to keep you still.

"How was your patrol?" you ask him.

He makes a noise low in his throat that's halfway to being a laugh.

"C'mon," he says. "You don't want to hear about mine. I know you're dyin' to tell me what happened."

The alcohol wipe stings as he swabs at your forehead and you tense. Joel's thumb rubs slow circles at the corner of your mouth and you press your knees into his hips.

Funny how you've had broken bones, been stabbed, shot, pretty much everything over the last twenty years but it's the small stuff that hurts the most. Stubbed toes, sliced fingers, alcohol wipes on shallow wounds. Some things just don't change.

"Okay," you say. "Well, you'll never believe it, but a damn elk decided to die in the station where the logbook is."

You tell him how you and Jesse rode up and saw the blood trail immediately and heard the moans and groans. You kept the horses on the other side of the fence and checked the first floor and the overlook, but the elk had weaseled its way under the collapsed staircase.

It smelled like death, rust and decay heavy in the air. The animal must have died just after the last patrol.

But it wasn't the problem. It was the group of Infected it attracted -- two runners and four stalkers. You have no idea where they came from but, since you were on patrol, the priority was eliminating them. The runners were easier, although one of them was responsible for the gash on your forehead when it managed to push you into the wall. You and Jesse cleared them quickly, one bullet each.

You thought you got all of the stalkers. One of them was munching on the carcass and went down fairly easily with your good aim. Jesse helped you clean your forehead so you both could clear the passage to get to the upper level and sign the logbook. The corpses went over the side of the station into the forest below. The Infected had eaten so much of the elk that it wasn't too heavy, though you both were sweating and dirty by the time you finished.

"Lemme guess," Joel says. You open your eyes as he carefully pulls the wound closed with two butterfly bandages before he gestures for your hand. He holds your wrist gently and tilts your palm side to side, looking for dirt. "There were infected inside the station, too."

"Look at you," you tease. His eyes flick to yours for just a second, intense as always. "It's like you were there."

"Smartass," he grumbles. The disinfectant stings on your palm, too, but you keep talking and keep your gaze on his face.

"Jesse climbed the rope up to the control room first but had to fend off a stalker at the top so he didn't see when another one grabbed my ankle and pulled me down mid-climb, which fucked my hands. The fall is how my rib got bruised and I tore up my knees fending it off."

Joel's cheek twitches. He wraps one of your palms in gauze and turns his attention to the other.

"Fuckin' hate those things."

"Me, too. When I got to the top, finally, Jesse was tugging a pipe from the head of a corpse. There was one more -- it jumped out of that supply room on the side, the one where Ellie found a bong, once, I think. I dodged it but my gun jammed and my hands were bleeding."

"Should've been wearing gloves."

You tap his leg with your foot and ignore him. Not taking your bait about the bong means he’s still pissed. "And then Jesse killed it with a brick."

"I taught him that," Joel grumbles.

He ties off your other palm and as soon as he's done you frame his face. Joel allows it, allows you to stare at him for a few seconds like you're memorizing him. You're telling the story like it was a fun adventure -- and it was. You're plenty capable and he knows it, too.

But you were scared. You don't tell him that right now, instead grounding yourself in the man in front of you. His hands are rough and dangerous to most, but tender and careful to you. The broad, firm line of his shoulders, always braced for the next hit.

The gash on the bridge of his nose, the lines at the corners of his eyes. His beard, greyer every year. You swipe your thumbs along his cheekbones and he sighs.

"Lucky me," you say softly.

You lean in to kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. His wide palms rest on your bare thighs and he kisses back with a kind of desperate firmness, as if he's proving to himself that you're real. That you're here in front of him, under his hands, in his care.

Joel drags his lips along your cheek.

"Knees," he says.

He steps back and releases your thighs with a squeeze. He treats more of your torn skin, a frown back on his face.

"I do want to hear about your patrol, by the way."

He shrugs. "Not much to tell," he says. "Didn't even get to shoot anythin’.”

You swing your foot back and forth, tapping the side of his thigh with every pass.

"But you had the nice route," you whine. "Tell me what the lake looked like."

"Quit distracting me," he grumbles.

"Like you don't have the steadiest hands in all of Jackson," you say softly.

He snorts. "Are you flirtin' with me?"

"I'm always flirting with you, Joel Miller."

You lied to Jesse earlier -- Joel has hundreds of expressions. He just keeps most of them for you. For Ellie, and Tommy, too. You know every one of them by now.

The look on his face now says he's thinking about kissing you again, maybe just to shut you up.

You grin at him. "Tell me about your patrol, now, seriously. Unless talking and using your hands at the same time is too much for you."

He smirks back. "Think we both know that ain't true."

"Now who's flirting?"

Lazy heat curls in your belly but fatigue stops it from turning into anything. Joel must see that in your eyes because he simply taps your chin with a knuckle and starts talking.

You start to slump as his Texas drawl wraps around you. He tells you how the lake was still, how he and Astrid saw bear tracks but no bear. How he found a tape for Ellie that he's going to give her tomorrow, how he wore his gloves today like you've been telling him to.

Some people might say that Joel is a man of few words. You thought he was the quiet type when you first met him, another stoic survivor in a world that demands hardness of everyone. But not shy, never shy. Just...waiting. Watching.

He and Ellie can shoot the shit for hours -- a dynamic they've fallen back into easily enough since they started spending time together again. He's funny, he's clever, he's annoying as shit when he wants to be.

And Joel is quite the storyteller. If you had to guess you'd say it comes from having to entertain Tommy when they were kids, from getting Sarah into bed on his own over and over. Keeping Ellie occupied, keeping her talking when things were scary and hard and fucking awful.

It's just another way he takes care of people.

"Still with me?" he says. You realize your eyes have closed. When you open them you find Joel looking at you with tenderness and a spark of amusement. The tense line of his shoulders is nowhere to be seen. "All done. Tired?"

"And hungry."

He washes his hands and throws away the various wrappers and blood-stained wipes.

"Sure you're awake enough to eat?" he teases.

You roll your eyes at him. He laughs.

"Joel," you say, catching his elbow. "Thank you."

"C'mon, now."

He looks like he wants to argue with you for saying it but reaches for you instead. He traces the cut on your forehead just like he did at the bottom of the stairs, brow drawn again. You can't tell what he's thinking as he drags his thumb down and around your eye, cupping your cheek fully for just a breath before releasing you and stepping towards the door.

"I'll heat some soup."

Dinner is quick and quiet, your energy sapped from you to the point of exhaustion. Everything aches, despite Joel's thorough care. When he suggests turning in early you don't protest.

He takes longer than you to get ready for bed. You slide under the worn duvet and wait, trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your bruised ribs throb in time with your heartbeat and when Joel finally turns off the light and gets in bed next to you in his threadbare sleep pants he practically hauls you into his embrace.

You go willingly, tangling your legs and laying your head on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You press your palm to his chest, fingers threading in the coarse hair. His heart thuds and it grounds you.

"I didn't get any good gossip off Jesse," you whisper. "On account of the whole surprise-infected thing."

He yawns. "S'pose it's a good excuse."

"Can I tell you something else?" you whisper. "A secret?"

Joel hums, lips brushing your temple as his hand snakes up your sleep shirt to press against your lower back.

Even though you know each other down to the bones, some things remain inexplicable. Parts of your pasts that linger in the darkest parts of you, the parts that stay shrouded until the moments like this. You don't have to be brave in the quiet hours of the night, entwined with him as you are. It's the safest place you'll ever be. Safe enough that you can crack open and let Joel in, let those steady and worn hands keep you together.

"I was scared today," you say into his neck. "When the stalker dragged me off the rope. I panicked, I --"

You don't tell him how your initial thought when you hit the ground was of him, how you closed your eyes tight and thought of your name from his mouth, of his smile when you come through the door. The stalker had its bony fingers digging into your ankle and you wondered if you'd ever feel Joel's hands on you again.

Death will come for you sooner or later and when it does it'll be Joel's face that you hold in your mind before it all ends.

But today, you kicked death until its stupid fucking mushroom skull caved in.

Joel presses his lips to your temple. You can feel his heart beating faster, as fast as yours. It's the only thing that betrays his own fear.

Wounds in this life often go deeper than the skin. When Joel comes home with bloody knuckles and shuttered eyes it's one thing to stop the bleeding, to bandage him and get him to eat something. It's another to hold him, to coax out the story, the fear. To follow him downstairs when he has a nightmare, to look for him in every room. It's all part of what you do as partners, as lovers, as people in this world. You take care of each other.

Neither of you can fix a lot of things. But you can ensure the scars heal into something light, something you can barely see.

You can hold each other in the dark.

"Scared me, too," he rasps. A secret for a secret. "Lotta damn blood."

You kiss the underside of his jaw. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

Joel pulls you closer, somehow, mindful of your side.

"Rest, now," he says. "You ain’t goin' anywhere."

It's a command, a promise. You hum your agreement and let sleep drag you under.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #just and just as

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lovesthecure · 2 years

Text

The dumbest things make my poor ego take a hit, and it's double right now because ~it started.~

#this has to do with a sideblog #which is on a You Know If You Know basis #and if you don't then well you don't #and by it started I mean the monthly blood ritual #No immense pain yet #That usually comes when the bleeding gets actually heavy #Eating kinda hurts though since the intestinal shit has already started #Finding out endo causes intestinal spasms that can be intensely painful has made me even more sure this is probably endo #My partner's mother is helping me get an appointment to get checked out #since my step dad has done literal diddly squat since I raised the issue and all the ways endo could injure or kill me #I guess he's chill letting me be in 8 ~ 10 pain once a month and maybe even die a slow. painful. preventable death.#that or he's just fucking lazy and not thinking about it #both are equally punishable in my eyes #once we get it checked out I'm hoping that I can use it as an easy way to get a hysterectomy #I can't get bottom surgery for a while but I can get that #And once THAT is treated then I can finally start looking into T gel

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irisintheafterglow · 3 months

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hii i would like to request the premise of a feral gojo over reader getting hurt or in danger 🤤 please don't feel obligated to write tho only if u feel like it :3

cross them, cross me (gojo x you)

wc: 1.29k

cw/tags: brief but explicit violence including descriptions of blood (satoru beats the shit out of a curse lmao), swearing, angst/fluff with a happy ending, established-ish relationship with pet names baby and sweetheart

note: ah feral gojo my beloved. i think i got a little carried away with writing the violence aspect but what can i say! he really did go feral when you got hurt! anyways, hope you like this anon and thank you for the sweet ask <3

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated :))

The sound of bones crunching between his fingers is euphoric.

One by one, he takes the Curse’s limbs in his free hand, the other effortlessly holding it by the neck against a wall. Its desperate wriggles and squirms are futile and pathetic. With a tightened grip, the wretched body parts in Satoru’s palm wither and become a limp slug of skin. He’d tuned out the Curse’s howls of agony minutes ago, the world around him falling silent as he focused all of his energy into making the Curse beg for death. The phrase “seeing red” was familiar to him, sure, but the hue tinting his vision now was a deep shade of crimson. Whether that was from the blood or his own concentration, he didn’t know and he didn’t care.

“What, did you give up?” His taunting smile turns into a snarl when the Curse fails to answer him the first time. It slumped itself against the wall, but he woke it up with a firm slap across its face. It wasn’t allowed to die, not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of its cries. “Learn your lesson yet?” It coughs out a plea for mercy, but he isn’t satisfied. Times like these were the only time his power truly went directly to his head.

“Gojo.” Nanami’s voice temporarily breaks him from his trance, but Satoru doesn’t bother glancing his colleague’s way. His hand still remains around the neck of the Curse, scathing blue eyes burning holes into its face. “It’s time to depart.”

“I’m not done yet,” he hisses, embedding the Curse’s face further into the wall. The suit of his coworker is pristine and unscathed; his own uniform, on the other hand, was soaked in blood that wasn’t his own. No, he wasn’t done yet. Not until every Curse within a ten mile vicinity knew exactly what would happen to them if they attempted to harm you again.

“They’re asking about you,” Nanami states impatiently with a quick look at his watch. “And I’m working overtime.”

“Five more minutes,” Satoru commands and Nanami has no choice but to obey, releasing an exhausted sigh and leaving his superior to his crusade. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, realizing that the Curse must have died while he wasn’t looking. He examines the lifeless creature with pure disgust, flinging it so intensely at the wall behind him that its innards splatter like wet paint. “You are below me,” he says to no one in particular, but he can sense the frightened energy of the weaker Curses inhabiting the building. “Touch them and you will meet the same fate.”

Once he’s exited the abandoned hospital, taken down the Curtain, and found the alley corner where he’d instructed Nanami to watch you, all remaining malicious intent in his body disappears. You’re scowling at him, your default expression when in his presence, and it reassures him that you’ll be okay.

“What took you so long?” You wince and try to adjust yourself against the wall, swatting his hand away when he crouches and tries to help you. “I thought Nanami said there was only one Curse in the building.” He shrugs and you give him a skeptical look, slightly less potent than usual due to your injured state. “Toying with a Curse while I’m bleeding out? That’s a new low, even for you.” He knows you mean it in a joking matter, but the darkness that passes over his face after he laughs doesn’t escape you. It unnerves you, a little bit, trying to imagine what he was doing to the Curses when you weren’t there.

“What can I say? I was just trying to make you miss me,” he replies with only the tiniest hint of hesitation. He’s put his blindfold back on, you notice, but the subtle dip in his eyebrows tells you that he’s not revealing the whole truth. “I’m gonna lift you now–”

“I can walk on my own,” you protest, rooting a hand on the concrete and trying to push yourself up to no avail. You fall back against the wall and glare at his silently patronizing expression. “I just need a second.”

“We don’t have a second. We need to clear out before the police get here,” he reminds you and you wave him off. “C’mon, just let me help you.”

“I can do this on my own,” you reiterate while simultaneously failing to stand. “It’s because you’re watching me. Just turn around.”

“If you wanna see my butt, just say so,” he grins and you roll your eyes. “But, really. I’m gonna lift you now, so try not to wiggle.” His arms extend to cradle beneath your legs and lower back and you’re surprised to feel the fabric of his uniform, not Infinity, when your hands try to push him away.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you stammer in panic. He pulls away immediately and his teasing expression softens. You let him brush the dirt from your cheeks with one of his hands, the other coming to cover yours on his chest. His heartbeat is unwaveringly steady, his body warm beneath your fingers.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re okay,” he reassures you. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you now.”

“It’s gonna hurt when I get up,” you whisper back. “A lot.”

“I know it will, but it’ll only hurt for a few seconds.” Your exhales are too uneven. He had to get you back to the school if he didn’t want you to continue losing blood.

“Seconds? What about the car ride back?”

“Oh no, baby. We’re not taking the car.” He shakes his head and gently laces his fingers with yours. “I’m warping us back so we can get that wound taken care of faster.” His grip on your fingers tightens, a crack in his composure revealing a glimpse of his own anxiety. “I just need you to let me help you.” After a few more moments, you nod and he doesn’t hesitate, scooping you into his arms before you can even register the searing pain in your side. The world goes white for a few seconds, just as he said, but then your head finds his shoulder and the pulse in your ears quiets.

You wake later in the day to the sun casting an orange glow through your bedroom window. As you sit up, the pain in your side is still present but significantly dulled. When your eyes adjust to the light, you finally notice the figure slumped in your desk chair, a respectful distance away from your bed.

“Satoru.” His eyes fly open and he’s in front of you within seconds, searching your face with concern and running his thumb over your knuckles. You give him the smallest smile you can muster and he reciprocates with a blinding grin. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, adjusting his position so that your legs can swing off the side of your bed. He rests on one knee in front of you, holding one hand in his, the other continuing to caress your face. “How are you feeling?”

“A little shitty,” you admit. “But, not nearly as shitty as earlier.”

“I’m glad,” he smiles. “Need me to get you anything? A snack? Two snacks?” Your laugh feels warmer than the setting sun and you shake your head, lightly tugging him to stand up and crawl under the covers with you. “I guess this works too,” he mumbles against the top of your head, pulling you close until you’re snug against his body.

“What were you doing in the time you were killing that last remaining Curse?” He hums thoughtfully and you swear his muscles flex protectively around your body.

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. For now, we both need rest.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #ask iris!

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crispy-armpit · 11 months

Text

✧ 𝖎'𝖒 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆⋆｡🎧𖦹 °✩ 🎸⋆⸜♩

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: reminisce about your forgotten first meeting with Deimos 3 years ago. meanwhile, you've been invited to watch his concert after the previous events. (pt.2)

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, reader gets called a bitch, (slight) sadism, kinda tame

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,495

⭒ a/n: dear lord i am simping for my own art... hope u all enjoy reading this! i'll be opening asks & make a short introduction in the next post ^^ ( yan jock makes an appearance here too!)

will you venture down this path?

where is he?

did I walk in the wrong direction?

am I lost?

... nope, this is the right place.

you are standing alone in a dark alleyway, looking around the location you agreed to meet your friend in. checking the virtual clock on your phone, you count the time you have left before you go on stage. 32 minutes.

time was ticking and he was still nowhere in sight. there's no way you could perform the duet alone. anxiously, you try texting your friend again.

You 》 17:28

bro where are u

i'm alr here

are u lost again

LIAM

liam

liaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam

fuck it, i'm leaving him. alleys are never good news. ever since you entered the place, your stomach has been in knots and the back of your head was tingling. it's almost as if... someone's been watching you.

typing on the small screen, you tell him you're going to meet him behind the stage instead. you speed walk towards the end of the tunnel, relieved you were leaving this place. you almost reach the exit until a rough hand pulls on your wrist.

a gruff voice speaks, "hey, you dropped this."

SHIT, I'M GOING TO DIE—

without thinking, you instinctively clench your fists into a ball and punch the unknown 'assailant' on the nose— effectively causing him to bleed. the stranger gasps out various curse words as you turn to scream and run away.

"I'M SORRYYyyyy—"

knuckles still bruised from the impact, you try to hide them as best as you can from the crowd's attention. Liam had managed to arrive on time, seconds before the performance. he claimed to have come across an old friend on the way who was difficult to shake off. but that was all in the past, and he has yet to notice your injured knuckles.

currently, you are performing on the stage in front of a sea of people. with your friend on the acoustic guitar, you both sang a duet that sang of two lovers, a confession of how one felt incomplete without the other.

it was a popular song, so Liam insisted on it. you were glad he did because in the end, the happy crowd's applause rang loud across your ears. a sound you'll always love.

now off the stage, you and Liam decide to explore the festival's offerings. the spring festival at night is beautiful— lanterns clipped across the starry sky and flowers and people littering the area. you approach one of the food stalls that lined the streets, purchasing a sundae of your favourite flavour.

as you are about to pay, you rummage through your pockets and realise... your wallet is gone. did i leave it at home?! Liam seems to pick up on your situation as he pulls out his own wallet, "i'll pay for them." you thank him and promise to pay him back. "it's alright, you don't have to." he smiles.

suddenly, a loud voice approaches the both of you, "Oi, Lili! ya did great up there, man." you turn to see a group of four people heading your way who were all dressed head-to-toe in punk clothing and carrying band equipment. they must be a band. a slim man holding wooden drumsticks pats Liam on the back, and he shortly notices you.

"oh? hello there, mx. the name's Vern." he grins and offers you a handshake, to which you politely return.

"y/n. nice to meet you, Vern. I'm a friend of Liam's."

"a friend of Liam is a friend of mine, y/n!" Vern heartily laughs, "let me introduce you to the gang, y/n— of course, you've met me, the drummer. that lady with red hair is Kyra, the lead guitarist. the young-looking fellow with shit for brains is Astrid, our second guitarist. and finally, our beloved lead singer and bassist, D—"

you don't have time to react before your face is roughly grabbed by a hand larger than your head, cheeks squished. you try to pry your face away from the thick fingers of the unknown man, as you shakily look up at his furrowed eyes. he's seething, and you don't know why.

"it's you. fucking bitch."

you don't know what you've done to this man to warrant such a reaction, you've never even met him before!... right? you think back to earlier in the day when you punched the stranger from the alley. shit, it's him.

though muffled by his palms, you still manage to voice out an apology. for the first time in your life, you feel a sensation rushing through your blood. dread and terror. in the corner of your eyes, you spot Liam being held back by a concerned Vern and Astrid.

you desperately try to pull his hand off your face while repeating apologies, but it's useless. he's too strong. the tall stranger continues to stare at you and you swear he was enjoying this. if not for the sick glint in his eyes or the soft panting from his pierced lips, then maybe for the light blush dusting his cheeks.

after what felt like hours, he finally lets go. you immediately massage your aching jaw and cheeks at his release. the stranger scoffs and hands you a familiar item... it's your wallet! "...found this in the alley. you throw a good punch." you gently take the small pouch off his hands and thank him.

a ghost of a smirk morphs on his face before he grunts and walks past you. the others instantly follow behind him like baby ducks trailing their mother, but not without giving you a sympathetic look. Vern checks up on you before joining his group, "woah, he's never spared anyone before. sorry about him, but i hope you'll still come to watch us?"

Liam, who is no longer held back, runs to your side and inspects your face. "are you alright?? fuck, I should teach him not to mess with you!" he angrily shouts. you're still recovering from shock. but that doesn't stop you from thinking how nice the stranger's smile looked. "do you want to go home? i'll drive you bac—"

with newfound motivation, you're able to speak again, "no, i'm fine. let's go watch the next show!"

you and Liam stand in front of the stage, somehow having managed to get past the current of people. there are way more people than before, and you notice some of them are holding signs. confused, you turn to the person next to you and ask her, "hey, what's with all the people? is a celebrity coming?"

she looks at you astounded, "you seriously don't know? Ares is performing next! they're like, all over social media right now." Ares? you don't think you've heard any singer with that name before. before you can ask who they are, waves of screams fill your ears as 4 pairs of feet walk on stage. you look back at Liam to see him clapping for the band, following his gaze, you accidentally lock eyes with a pair of heterochromatic eyes.

he acknowledges your presence with a lazy lift of his brow and faces the crowd again. this time, the audience shouts in union.

ARES!

ARES!!

ARES!!!

the electrifying sound of a guitar and drums booms through the speakers. the ground vibrates along with the rhythm, as your heartbeat follows along. the song begins, but it's not until you hear the deep bass of the leader's voice do you feel the aching throb of your core.

(R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys)

I'm a puppet on a string

holy shit.

She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space...

his voice is intoxicating.

In my mind, when she's not right there beside me

I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be

your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest.

And satisfaction feels like a distant memory

And I can't help myself

All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"

yes.

Well, are you mine?

Are you mine?

Are you mine? Oh, ah

i'm yours.

his deep voice that was once laced with anger and malice— now brings your own heart to tears. you could only think about what was going through his mind to sing a beautiful song in such a wrenching manner. and on that day, you swore to one day bring someone to tears with your voice, just like he had with you.

but what you did not know was that you'd already done the exact same thing to Deimos earlier that day. and for that, he'd follow you down every road until there comes a time when your paths meet again.

back in the present, you've been forced invited to watch Deimos' latest concert. like before, you sat at the very front row, right in front of his assigned position. the only difference from then was his lovestruck eyes that would never leave your figure.

in the end, he was yours.

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fan-goddess · 2 months

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hello!could you write a reaction to the dragon's house × !fem!reader, when she was flying over the sea with the dragon and one of the enemies was on the ship and shot from a crossbow.

(she and her dragon are alive but slightly injured)

Aegon,Aemond,Jacaerys Velaryon-romantic love

Alicent,Daemon,Rhaenyra,Helaena,Laenor Valeryon-platonic love

sorry if there are any mistakes! I hope everything is clear💝I've actually been thinking about this for a long time💥

HOTD characters reactions of when reader is hurt

The summary: The characters each find out during your usual flight around kingslanding that you were shot down by some people belonging to a certain group that hate the Targaryen traditions and believe it to be an abomination.

A/N: They’re all personalised and hopefully different backstories, but have given reader the same dragon in all of them as making dragons are hard. The wound is also pretty much same, but the severity is altered in some places. In the platonic ones I made reader call them mother or father, since I made them a parent. Some of these are very different as I expanded on some more and developed others. You can tell which.

This ain’t fully proofread we die like Luke!

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie

Warning: Wounds, various gore mentions, incest, kissing, tried to make it gender neutral and lack of descriptions but there are some scattered about! (if I miss any let me know)

Aegon Targaryen:

When Aegon heard the news from his mother who’d rushed to inform him of your sudden injury, he all but sprinted to the infirmary where you were being treated by one of the leading maesters.

“My love, are you alright?!? I am so sorry my love I should have insisted to accompany you! When I find the man who did this to you I shall rip off his head and feed his insides to Sunfyre and Shrykos!” He declares, the words tumbling quickly with how much rage flooded his body at the sight of your wounded self. You could barely keep up with him if you were being honest.

“Aegon, my sweet husband, it is fine! ‘Tis merely a flesh wound!” You insist, yet wincing as soon as the reassurance falls from your lips.

“And yet here you are heavily bleeding, and in very much pain! You should take some milk of the poppy!” Aegon says, looking around to find the bottle, even when you try and insist you were fine. “If you were fine you’d be with me, in our bed, safe and unharmed! So don’t argue with me wife or my wrath will be misguided!”

You merely humour him by sipping slightly at the small contents of the cup the maester had passed to you. Yet still, you can’t deny that the liquid had its desired effects, as your previously aching wound now significantly dulls down to a mere small throb once in a while.

“Now wife. Tell me who hurt you.” Aegon demands, his eyebrows furrowed and his grip tightened on your body as he insured you would be unable to get away from him.

“Just some idiotic men thinking themselves higher than us my love. They shot at me and Shrykos from their ship when we least expected it with bloody crossbones of all things, and somehow barely managed to skim us. Yet they somehow did not expect the very large dragon to get angry that their rider and themself was just attacked with no prior warning. Shrykos certainly made sure to enact on our lovely families motto. By the time she was done with them, there was nothing left but fire and blood sinking to the bottom of the sea.”

Aegons face slowly turns more and more relaxed, and by the end of your tale he’s practically grinning for joy as he kisses you deep on the lips. “That’s my bloodthirsty wife!” He mumbles against your lips, forgetting all about his past aggressions to make you feel as safe and as loved as you could be in his arms. The maester that continues to awkwardly stand their waiting to finish wrapping your arm be damned.

Aemond Targaryen:

He finds out before anyone else, as he tends to wait for you after your dragon rides if he’s unable to go with you that day. So when you come back later than usual with blood dripping down your arm and half an arrow sticking out of you, he certainly is very angry, and very much willing to get on Vhagar and hunt down and kill those who dared harm his wife. Yet he knows he must stay calm for you.

He notices how you try and mumble your dragons name under your breath, so when he makes it past one of the dragon keepers he makes sure to let them know that Shrykos may be in need of some healing. He assumes by the way your mumbles quieten after he says the order that that was what you were trying to tell him. Yet when he actually looks at you Aemond quickly realises you’ve actually fainted from blood loss.

Aemond rushes you to the Maesters room where he insists only the best work on you, even though he couldn’t afford to be picky what with you bleeding out in his arms and all. Though after a few threats and lot of claims regarding his dragon, the maesters quickly manage to remove the arrow and stem the bleeding whilst you continued to lay unconscious on the healing bed. Aemond stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand tightly in an act of reassurance. Even though you were still unconscious.

He stayed with you the entire time though. Still holding your hand even when he fell asleep. When you eventually woke, three days after you were injured, Aemond was sure to reassure you that you were safe. Even though by the tenth time you were very ready to smack him.

“Tell me ābrazȳrys who did this too you. Vhagar has been ready for the taste of flesh since I found you. I am sure Shrykos too is ready for the thrill of the chase of those who harmed both her and her rider. Tell me, so I can make sure we can tear them limb from limb.” His words drip malice, and yet there is distinct comfort within them. Aemond has never truly been able to show his affection towards you with displays of anything other than action. And in this moment, it just so happens that action involves heavy bloodshed and possible carnage.

“Those men who hale from the vale. The ones claiming our traditions to be an abomination. A sin in the eyes of the seven. They surprised me and Shrykos as we flew above the seas and got some good strikes. But don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon. Me and Shrykos made sure to burn them to blood and ash before we needed to flee back to kingslanding.” You attempt to smile to reassure your husband, but if anything it appears to make it worse as you wince at the pain suddenly flaring through your whole right arm.

Aemond stays quiet as he makes sure to force you to drink some milk of the poppy.

“Ābrazȳrys. If you were to die, I would have gone to the brink of insanity. I would’ve gone to those peoples homes and burned them all to the ground for what they have done to my wife. To the future mother of my children. They have harmed you though. The have scarred you. And for that offence alone, I cannot allow them a single more moments of breath. I cannot allow them to live.” Aemond storms off leaving you laying there in half shock and half admiration. You knew he would be true to his word. Which is why when not even a day had passed since Aemond had left, you’d heard whispers of what Aemond had done, and you smiled and thanked the gods for a husband like yours.

Jacaerys Velaryon:

If there was one characteristic you could say your husband embodied to the fullest, it would be loyalty. As no matter how many other women, maids and nobility alike, threw themselves at the future heirs feet he always ran back to you.

Even when other men such as the Lannister’s attempted to charm you with their admittedly horrible, yet according to them successful attempts, Jace was always there with a watchful eye, making sure all knew who you belonged too.

He was protective too. A dragon while not in appearance but definitely in spirit. Jace would always find a way to make sure you were safest whether you wanted him to be involved or not. Even this noon when you wanted to get one last dragon ride before dinner, Jace still insisted there was no need. Yet your stubbornness knew no bounds it seems, as while his back was turned you made quick speed to where Shrykos usually slept and flew her into the great distance. A mere speck in the sky before Jace knew what had happened.

You had started the flight laughing with the biggest grin on your face, eager to see the sights from the sky. Yet of course things turned worse as men from one of the many religious groups of the seven kingdoms took notice of you and your dragon, and decided to shoot you with their admittedly massive weapons.

You dodged the best you could, and yet with a scream from both you and Shrykos, you realised you were both hit.

“DRACARYS SHRYKOS! DRACARYS!” You screamed, satisfied when you hear the hells and the screams of the men and the ships bellow. With your good arm, you steer Shrykos to the direction of dragonstone and order the instructions, before all appears to go dark.

When you wake, all seems strangely normal. That is of course, before you see the giant bandaged wound that is your arm. You can see a hint of red peeking from the bandages and are about to see if you could rewrap it, before Jacaerys comes through and with wide eyes realises you are awake and well as you can be.

“My love!” He shouts, running over and encasing you in his arms. Not hearing the low hiss you make when his hands clasp around your still admittedly sore arm. “Where have you been!? You’re hurt!” He yells, finally taking noticing your blood that steadily pools to the surface. “Let us get you to the maesters!”

As much as it hurt you to have Jace pull you like he did, you merely let it all happen so not to cause an event bigger fuss of you than what he already is making. Yet when you get to the maesters chambers and nearly find yourself fainting, that’s when you suddenly understand your husbands worry.

When you wake up though, it’s the feeling of Jaces familiar warmth that settles you as you gaze on his sleeping form. Yet as you wake, so does he it seems. As not even a few minutes after you’ve woken Jace is quick to rise with you. His eyes wide and worried as they roam you for anymore possible injuries you may possibly somehow have hidden.

“Are you alright my love?!” He asks, his eyes still roaming for even a moment of weakness from you. “There maesters took care of your arm and the arrow. And I heard word from the dragon keepers who tell me Shrykos is healing dutifully from his wounds!”

“Good.” You simply say, hissing slightly as you sit up and try to keep yourself grounded. “I’d kill then if she wasn’t.”

Jacaerys laughs at your threat, and his face looks almost serene as he just looks at you. His eyes going soft as his hands continue to hold yours. It’d be an almost affectionate moment had it not been for the sudden flare up of pain in your arm.

“Fuck!” You yell, hissing once again as you’re reminded of why you’re even in the maesters room in the first place. “It is alright husband I’m fine!” You insist seeing the worry now marking his face.

“I will worry when I want.” He simply says, kissing you on the top of your head before moving to sit next to you on the bed. His head resting on yours as he puts his arms around you. Your eyes shutting as a sudden hit of exhaustion hits you, yet you welcome it fully as Jaces arms feel just so welcoming and calming.

Alicent Hightower:

Alicent had always been like a mother to you. Caring for you when you were sick and making sure that you were always in your highest possible health. It was probably why she’d insisted since you were young to fully call her mother, even though you were not biologically related to her.

Whenever she heard about even the slightest of injuries though, she always worried relentlessly about the damage. Which is why when you appeared before her clutching a bleeding wound from your shoulder, you’re quite honestly surprised she hadn’t dropped from shock.

“Oh my darling what has happened?!” She’d gasped, frozen in shock as she stood there not knowing what really to do.

“Bastards on their boats took a few shots at me and Shrykos whilst we were on our morn flight. They got two good shots at us to hurt us but don’t worry. Before we got here Shrykos managed to give them what was coming for them…” You groan, holding your shoulder in your hand that has now from the lack of adrenaline, has begun aching dramatically.

“Oh never mind the men I care only about you!” She fusses, coming closer before stopping half way, staring between your shoulder and your pained face. Maybe Alicent will drop from shock after all.

“SOMEBODY GET THE MAESTERS!” You hear a voice yell, before all appears to go dark before your eyes. When you wake though, it is as if the light is blinding you. You blink a few times to ground yourself, and it’s with a sudden surprise you realise that you feel a familiar warmth on your hand. You turn your head slightly, stiff from the lack of movement you think, and realise Alicent is staring at you with great worry on her face.

“Are you feeling alright my darling? The maesters have cleaned and sewed up your wound, but according to them it shall take a while for it to fully heal. You must tell me dear girl, in detail, what happened out there. What did those people do to you?”

“After me and Shrykos took off, we flew to the stormlands. We were drifting round shipbreaker bay, when those men the council warned us over took notice. Crossbows the size of my arm began shooting at us mother, so I am grateful they managed to get me and Shrykos only once.” At the mention of your dragon, your face turns to worry. Yet before you say anything, your mother quickly moves to interrupt you.

“Your dragon is safe my love. The dragon keepers have been keeping me up to date on her healing, and she is steadily heading to full recovery. The arrow has been removed fully, and the wound has stopped bleeding.” She says, her face betraying her as she is unable to hide her distaste of your dragon.

“Thank you mother, I appreciate the consideration. I know you have no love for Shrykos, nor any of your children’s dragons.” You say, your honesty true as you smile in thanks and understanding.

“You’re welcome my heart…” Your mother smiles, her hand reaching out to hold yours. Which while you admittedly want to shy away from, yet you push through your discomfort to allow your mother this moment that you know your adoptive sister would not have allowed.

“I do not want you to fly unaccompanied anymore my heart,” Alicent begins, shushing your with a single movement when she sees you about to harshly protest. “I have discussed this with your brothers and sister, and they have all agreed. Aemond has already taken the duty on his ever eager shoulders, and has said he will ride with you tomorrow morn at your usual time. It may be in your best interest to thank him next time you see him.”

“Of course mother…” You sigh, already dreading Aemonds smug face and wanting to punch it. Yet you withhold yourself from groaning out loud only from your mother’s sake, who is still holding your hand with intended comfort, even though she is doing nothing but make your blood pump fast around your body. Still, you say nothing. Allowing her to believe she is comforting you with a motherly smile on her face.

Daemon Targaryen:

Daemon had always possessed an amusingly short temper. It was especially tested though whenever it regarded to you. Whenever you got yourself hurt as a child, whether than was to do with training or just an accident in the halls, he always demanded to know the man behind your pain. It’s why you weren’t at all surprised when he reacted that same way when you flew back to Dragonstone and stumbled towards him with an arrow stuck in your shoulder blade.

“Who has dared to harm you zaldritzos? Tell me so I can show them what the exact consequence is for messing with a dragon. I am sure caraxes is already fuelled with my anger alone and is ready to face those who dares spill such precious blood.” Daemon snarls, his face unable to hide its anger as he holds your body steady so it won’t suddenly collapse.

“Bastards from the bloody ships on the bloody sea. Got us good… got us good…” You slur, every word feeling forced from your very gut as your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes zaldritzos! Don’t you fucking close them!” You hear him snarl once more. But still, you cannot resist the temptation of sleep as you disobey your father and close your eyes.

When you find yourself waking, it is Daemon is standing by you while you slept. His eyes hard and stern as they observe you.

“I suppose you’re mad?” You can’t help but say. Your face admittedly ashamed as you stare to the floor, unable to hold his stare.

“Of course I am mad!” He yelled, refusing to allow you to turn your head away as he forces you to make eye contact with him. “My daughter has gone out without telling me, and she has gotten herself hurt the same way soldiers are hurt in wars!”

“I am sorry father!” You say, tears brimming in your eyes as the disappointed and anger shines through his. “I cannot control where those bastard men sail-“

“But you can control where you fly!” Daemon yells back. His voice rough and frustrated as the inner dragon inside him comes out. “I have taught you better than this zaldritzos! I have been teaching you how to ride that dragon of yours since you were a mere child! So why was it you were no doubt flailing about the sky like an amateur, when I know you could have done better?!”

“I’M NOT LIKE YOU!” You shout, shoving your father away as he stares at you with an expressionless face. “I am not a great leader, or a great dragon rider! I am still learning father! My lessons have not yet stopped being taught! Those men on the ships who shot at us were the ones you had warned us about. The ones claiming our great traditions to be an abomination and deserving of punishment. Me and Shrykos did not know their affiliation as we flew above them. Only when the arrows began to fly for our heads did we realise… I got an arrow in the shoulder, which has now since been removed. Shrykos though listened perfectly and managed to get out of there without any particularly damaging wounds. Still, my anger shon through her, and we managed to light the whole of the fleet up in flames before we flew back home. Where of course, you found me…”

Daemon is silent throughout your rant, yet by the end, when you’re breathless with how quickly you spoke, his hand is placed on your non-injured arm in an unfamiliarly comforting manner.

“I know you are not like me zaldritzos. While I have made you in my image, I hardly expected it to be your only outcome. You have become strong. You have become a fearsome warrior able to bring honour to our family name and our ancestors. I suppose… I may have forgotten that I too have made mistakes. I am sorry zaldritzos…”

The tears that had brimmed earlier in your eyes now tear down your face now that you hear your fathers words. His pride. So you do the only thing you can think of at that moment to show your appreciation. You take your arms and place them around Daemons waist, pulling him into a hug where your head is against his chest. Thankfully his arms seem to automatically go around your own body, and you can’t help but find this act comforting and safe.

“Thank you…” You can’t help but murmur.

“I would never let anything hurt you…” He murmurs back. Words which to anyone else may sound meaningless, but to you, you know they hide your father’s true feeling of care.

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

Rhaenyra had always been a sort of mother to you. A light to guide you in the darkest of your days. Whenever you took ill or had an injury, it was always she who stood by your bed, holding your hand in her own. Even though both husbands and loyal guards warned her of her possibly falling ill herself. Not that she ever did somehow though.

It was like that now. That afternoon, you had decided on a whim to take Shrykos on a fight around the coasts bordering the land surrounding Dragonstone. Yet it seems you coincidentally forgot Daemons talk about the rising threat of a religious group following faithfully the followings of the seven, as you tried to fly past them calmly and peacefully. Shrieking in fear when you realise it was not a harmless fly that flew past your face just now, but a very deadly steel-tipped arrow.

You barely made it out of there alive. The only injuries you yourself sustaining being a few arrow nicks on your shoulders, and the worse of it being a shallow puncture from one of the few successful shots. Shrykos though took most of the hits. Her rage seething the more those pathetic men tried to harm both her and her rider. It was quite satisfying you must say, when you flew away with the fresh smell of burning corpses still behind you, lingering on your clothes.

Yet when you got back home and were standing in front of your mother, that satisfaction quickly changed to a strange sort of guilt when you see her horror struck face.

“What has happened my darling!” She tells, taking ahold of your arm to look at your injury while you yell at her to try and say you were fine, even though you wince as soon as she yanks you towards her.

“Bloody men on the coast of Gull Town decided to shoot at us from their fucking boats. They got only a few good shots before Shrykos managed to get to them. By the time we left, we ensured they became fire and ash. I doubt there are any men alive after that….” You say, barely able to stand as the sudden blood loss reaches you.

You’re barely able to think as your mother brings you to the castle hanging on her shoulder. Soon, maesters surround you whilst your mother fusses by your bed to the left of you. She insists and demands certain things, but by the end, your grateful to feel the pain in your arm significantly lessen not only due to the lack of wooden arrow, but also due to the large amount of milk of the poppy that was pretty much forced down your throat.

“Is it all better now my darling?” Your mother asks, putting your hand between her own to soothe you as if you were a small child who’d scuffed their leg falling on some loose gravel.

“It is fine mother!” You insist. Even smiling as you play the part of the healthy child, able to bounce back from any injuries. Yet somehow she can still manage to see through your facade.

“Are you sure?” She asks again. Her brow raised in questioning as she makes you feel like a young child again. Small, and helpless as you cry to mother.

“Yes I am fine!” You firmly say, taking your hand from hers and placing it on the cold clinical bed sheets. Already missing the familial warmth your mother’s hands had provided you with. “I do not need you pressing!”

“Okay my love. I believe you.” Rhaenyra smiles, acknowledging her child’s want for independence. Moving from the chair she previously had sat on so she can place a quick kiss to the top of your head and smile fondly at the way your nose scrunches. “I will leave you now my love. The maesters had said you’ll fully heal by the moons next turn, but you’re fit to leave the bed tomorrow morn. I’ll visit you then.”

As quick as Rhaenyra leaves, you find yourself already wanting her motherly touch to tell you it’s okay. Your legs tucking under your chin as you hold yourself under the covers, letting your eyes shut so hopefully you’re able to wake up tomorrow by your mother’s voice.

Helaena Targaryen:

Compared to all your other family members, it has always been Helaena you were closest too. A close bond forging between the two of you since girlhood that not once has ever been broken.

You were with her when she claimed Dreamfyre, just as she was there for you when you claimed Shrykos. You also made sure to try and be with her whenever she experienced one of her, moments.

Yet that morning, you were way too busy trying to get ready for your usual morn flight to be with her when she took what the queen would call, a funny turn.

‘Blood of the dragon lost twice over. Beware the boats from bellow filled with men of hate.’

She’d seen your injury and the fire coming from your dragons mouth, and being the anxious person she was, she waited at the dragon keeps entrance with her hands fiddling with each other.

When you fly in holding your arm to try and stem the blood, getting off with difficultly as you try and not fall, you almost scare yourself when you turn and suddenly find yourself face to face with Helaena, who holds a bandage ready to treat you with it.

“Give me your arm…” She softly asks, waiting for you to release your arm from your grip so she can slowly and carefully take the arrow from your arm, choosing to ignore your vocal cries of pain so she can make sure to get the arrow out. When she does, she chooses to just drop the bloody wooden chunk to the floor so she can quickly wrap your now gushing wound, which she cleans with a slightly damp clothe that can’t have been out of the water bowl for long.

“What happened?” She asked while she cleaned your red streaked arm.

“Do you remember those men Aemond warned us about? The ones who hate us for our heritage?” You ask, waiting to hear Helaena unique hum to show she’s truly listening. “Well when I was flying by Tarth, those men were in there boats and obviously spotted me before I spotted them. So they shot at me till they hit me.” You shrug, regretting it soon as you did as you hiss at the sudden flare up of pain.

“It’ll hurt badly. I didn’t manage to take any milk of the poppy from the maesters, so we’ll probably need to visit them soon.” Helaena simply says, giving you a smile before she takes your hand in her own. An act you cannot say in words how much it means to you, given how you know of her usual revulsion for physical touch.

So you stay silent. Allowing her to lead you to the maesters with a small smile on your face, that is wiped right off when you become face to face with them. They stare at your with judgement and soulless eyes as they remove you from Helaenas comforting warmth and instead force you to feel cold metal against your flesh. They ignore you as they unwrap the bandages. Only giving each other looks as they wordlessly judge the state of your body.

It almost makes you want to tear their heads from their bodies and feed them to Shrykos. Who no doubt is feeling your frustrations and anger down in the dragon pit.

Yet you hold your tongue for Helaenas sake, who is watching the maesters take supposed special care of you from the corner of the room. She gives you small smiles whenever you make eye contact, and it’s only with them you manage to pull through. The milk of the puppy though they force down your throat certainly makes you more cooperative though you must say.

“Thank you Hel, for looking after me.” You say, staring at her as soon as the maesters deemed you healed enough and left you. No doing to go get the queen to inform her of your sudden injury.

“It is no problem…” She softly smiles back, moving forward to stand next to you so she can hold your hand in her own. Her soft flesh relaxing you possibly even more than the drugs flowing through your system. “I will always be there for you…”

Laenor Valeryon:

Even though you always knew that Laenor could never truly be your father, he nonetheless always managed to act like one better than anyone. While your mother was busy attending to your brothers, it was Laenor who was always busy attending to you, making sure you were fussed in a way a princess should be fussed.

He always made sure to give you the bestest care a princess may need it. Like right now for instance.

“I NEED A MAESTER RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” You remember your father screaming while your vision slowly began to blur in a variety of difference places. “Where are you hurt ñuha nūmio? Where is the pain? What can I do?”

“Arrow in the fucking shoulder.” You groan, bile building in your throat as you resist the urge to vomit. “Only there father. Shrykos was hit too. Fuck it hurts so much…”

“Do not worry dear girl! The maester will come!” As he says this, guards come running with a maester in tow. The guards take ahold of you carefully as you nearly collapse under the sudden blood rush. The maester barking orders for what to do to you to cause the least amount of damage to your body as possible.

When you get to the healing room, you’re placed roughly onto a bed where now a whole group of maesters now flock to you like a group of crows over a fresh carcass. They all say a different method on how to treat you, yet it’s Laenor whose voice shines louder than them all.

“You will not cut up or harm my daughter!” He yells, his voice firm and harsh as he glares at them all. “You will take out that fucking arrow, and you will heal her. Or I swear, as the heir of the realms husband, I’ll make all of you fucking regret it!”

All is silent, and yet with a firm glare they all scatter to complete your father’s order. Soon, cloth is finding its way in your mouth to quench your screams as hands force the arrow once imbedded in your arm is forced onto a silver plate. Blood gushing down your arm in an admittedly disturbing manner.

By the end, there is an elder looking maester stitching up your blood coated arm, and an arrow head and some wood pieces. Laenor held your hand with every scream and every clench of your body. He made sure you felt as safe as you could in the presence of the same type of men who killed your aunt. He also made sure to quickly push them out as soon as they were done with there work. Nodding along in a dismissive manner as they insist they are still needed.

When they are eventually shushed away however, with the door shut quickly behind them, Laenor quickly finds himself by your side again. His hand laced firmly in yours as he takes a lone damp cloth so he can clean away the dried blood still decorating your wounded flesh.

“Does it hurt much? I can always call a maid to fetch you some milk of the poppy?” Laenor insisted, his touch delicate as he makes sure not to harm you in any way.

“It merely stings…” You shrug, wincing though soon as you do due to the sudden flare up in your shoulder. “I do not need any milk of the poppy father. I can manage my pain.”

“I can see that…” He grins, even chuckling when he sees your own smile. “Though, I must ask. What happened? You did not exactly give me much information before the maesters came for us.”

“Me and Shrykos began our normal journey to the direction of Runestone. But on the coast of Gull town, it appears those men mother had recently warned us about, the ones who deem our customs immoral and a disgrace to a seven, spotted us before we spotted them. They took no time before they were shooting at us with giant crossbows on their ship. They took us by surprise, and managed to get only a single time, but that was enough to enact Shrykos’ rage. I didn’t even say the command father! Shrykos enacted our joined rage and set fire to their ships and their bodies. If they weren’t dead by the time we left, I am almost sure they are all at least dead by now.”

He takes in your words carefully. Murmuring small words every so often while he holds your hand as a sigh of sympathy. When your done though, his face is smeared in deep anger. A hatred you have never seen your father show ever before in your lifetime.

“Well it’s a good think they are dead though,” He finally says, snapping from his thoughts with a huff. “Because if they were alive, Seasmoke would be gorging on a feast right now!”

“Thank you father…” You simply say, falling into his arms that welcome you immediately. You close your eyes and allow yourself to bask in his familiar comforting warmth.

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harunayuuka2060 · 5 months

Text

Ace: Okay. No one had expected the party was going to be a blast.

Epel: Both in literal and figurative sense.

Ace, Deuce, Epel, Ortho, and Jack: *laughing*

Jack: And who would've thought that MC-senpai's sister and Ruggie would click?

Ace: Like, bruh! I still remember their conversation!

Ace: "Is MC-senpai looking for a brother-in-law?"

Ace: "They don't. But I'm looking for a boyfriend. Are you available?" *claps, laughing*

Epel: By the way, we'd only seen senpai when the party was about to end.

Jack: Yes. And I think they have injured their left eye.

Ortho: I wonder what happened.

Malleus: Didn't I tell you to be careful?

MC: *has returned with a bleeding eye and deep scratches on their arms and neck* *giggles*

MC: The souls I have arrived to were too excited~.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Let me patch you up.

MC: Hm~? Has your mom left already~?

Malleus: Yes. She didn't want you to see her off.

MC: Eh~.

Malleus: Oh and, you've decided on Rosehearts and Schoenheit?

MC: Hmm~ *giggles* Riddle will never be my option~. He's too young~.

MC: And will die easily because of stress~.

Malleus: That's... *sigh* How about Schoenheit?

MC: If it's Vil~ Hehe~ He's a fine choice~ But~ I'll be too possessive~.

Malleus: You're worried that you would be too possessive for Schoenheit?

MC: *nods then giggles* Wouldn't anyone be~?

Malleus: ...

Malleus: I'm surprised with your self-awareness.

MC: *touches his face with their bloody hands*

Malleus: *frowns* Hey.

MC: *giggles*

Malleus: *sigh*

Silver: MC's parents are amazing.

Lilia: Indeed. I don't think anyone would do what they have done for the sake of love.

Sebek: That's just pure insanity! And I don't even understand the explanation at all!

Sebek: How could they be both half-dead?!

Silver: MC's father had died long ago, but for some reason, his body never decomposed. And their mother, who was an infamous necromancer, found him and fell in love at first sight.

Sebek: I understood that part! What I'm trying to say is how were they able to produce offsprings?!

Silver: ...

Silver: Oh. You have a point with that, Sebek. *turns to look at Lilia*

Silver: Do you know how that is possible, father?

Lilia: Yes. But you're still innocent to know.

The Ramshackle students: Housewarden! How is your eye?

MC: It's fine~ But it feels really itchy~.

Grim: Don't think of plucking that out, mryah!

MC: *giggles* Why~ Its string is still connected to the socket~.

Grim: Just don't!

MC: Okay~. If you could distract me~.

The Ramshackle students: We will study hard so we can get the first place in rankings!

MC: Eh~ That's a nice proposal~.

MC: But if one of you fails~ Would you like to receive my eyeball as a reward~?

The Ramshackle students: N-No, housewarden...

MC: *giggles* Fail or not~ All I want you to do is enjoy school~ Like how I enjoy my stay here~.

The Ramshackle students: *sniffles* Yes, housewarden!

Grim: You're awfully nice today. *looking at them suspiciously*

MC: Well~ The next couple of months will be a torture~.

The Ramshackle students: That's still fine, housewarden!

MC: *giggles*

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst malleus #twst ace #twst deuce #twst epel #twst jack #twst ortho #twst sebek #twst silver #twst lilia #twst grim #blithesome!mc

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 7 days

Note

Can I request ACOTAR poly bats x mate reader? Who got killed if you don't write that the reader just got injured badly? Thank you!

Injury HC (ft. poly!mates Bat Boys)

While I love me some heavy angst, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off mate reader even if its just for a hc 😭😅

Warnings: lots of mentions of blood, wounded/dying!reader, polyamorous mates, injuries, healing, angst and fluff, ft. mor, ft. amren, ft. madja, ft. wraiths

woof where to begin

it would be damn near impossible for any of them to think rationally at the sight of blood coming from you, not their beloved who should only be full of smiles and laughter

bat boys become overbearing if you even get a papercut

But this. . . this was something else entirely.

So much blood that they feel sick from the rusty smell of it that permeated the air.

You looked so small and broken; Rhys has already come up with a thousand ways to kill whoever did this to you. You were their beautiful, proud, cunning mate.

The first one to make a move toward your body would be Rhysand. Always rational under pressure as Azriel and Cassian look around in case there was an ambush by the enemy. He feels sick to his stomach the entire time he's checking your vitals. When his fingers make contact with your blood soaked head, the sticky substance felt white hot. Rhysand could wash his hands millions of times and still feel that searing sting of your blood on his skin.

When they finally get you safely to Madja, you do manage to regain some consciousness, enough to reach out and grab Azriel's hand as everyone was leaving the operating room. Its difficult to move your lips to speak but you manage to plead for Azriel to stay. His shadows always soothed you.

There's no rest for Rhysand or Cassian unfortunately.

Despite Mor and Amren's best efforts, they can't drag your other two mates away from the door.

Rhysand being constantly updated by Azriel through his thoughts and shadows

Cassian tried not to let dark possibilities into his head. They banged against the door of his mind, loud and clear. If you died. . .

"She won't die." Rhysand would tell him sharply. He couldn't lose hope. But the steady smell of your blood that refused to lessen worried Rhysand greatly.

For Azriel, he was forced to stand there at your side as Madja did her best to put you back together. He refused to look away. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help.

He furiously clenches and unclenches his hands. Angry with himself for not being enough to protect you.

In the wee hours of the morning, Mor finds Rhysand and Cassian slumped together asleep. She put a blanket around them and takes a seat to join them in awaiting news. Amren soon follows suit once she has risen from bed by worry.

Finally, Azriel emerges into the waiting room.

Cass and Rhys leap from their seats

You're alive, although incredibly weak.

Madja had to bind and fix your bones while also trying to stop your bleeding. The most important thing was that you would live with some major scarring.

For the next several months, you acquired three overbearing nurses.

Not that you were complaining.

They only allowed Madja to tend to you and that was just during your checkups. Even the Wraiths' cooking was monitored by one of the bat boys.

Azriel and Rhysand had the tenderest hands when they changed your bandages or moved you around so you wouldn't get bed sores.

When you were well enough, Cassian would carry you to the outside garden so you could enjoy the warmth of the sun personally. You'd sit on his lap with your head resting on his chest. You liked listening to him talk as your ear was pressed close to his heart.

You had to tell them to shut up a few times because of how often they would apologize to you about letting you get hurt. It wasn't their fault, you'd argue to deaf ears. This was actually motivation for you. To remedy this and prevent getting hurt this badly ever again, you'd have to train more. Get stronger so your mates wouldn't blame themselves for you getting hurt in their absence.

Rhysand may be the only one who doesn't coddle you during any kind of physical therapy. He's one for tough love. Cassian too. Poor Az is utterly helpless.

Oh, you're out of breath? Let me carry you, sweetling. Rhys and Cass being too difficult? I'll give them a talking to.

Once fully healed thanks to your bat boys, you feel stronger and better than ever.

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #bat boys #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #acotar cassian #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand x reader #a court of thorns and roses x reader #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction

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french-unknown · 5 months

Note

hiya, can i request hcs of straw hats reacting to their s/o getting seriously injured because of a marine?

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: luffy, zoro, nami, usopp, sanji, robin 𝐂/𝐖: fluff, hurt/comfort 𝐀/𝐍: hiya! (〃´・ω・`)ゝ 𝐖/𝐂: 1k +

| m a s t e r l i s t |

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘

✧ The escape that he had previously taken lightly, with all the crew arguing, immediately took on different propensities when you were hit in the chest by a bullet from a Marine soldier.

✧ Luffy suddenly stopped laughing when you collapsed.

✧ He asked the others to take you back to the boat safely while he was left alone behind. He even refused Zoro's help.

✧ He returned an hour after you and, as the boat moved away from the coast without being bothered by any world organization, he came to join you in the infirmary.

✧ Throughout your convalescence, his days consisted of keeping face with his crew and living their adventures but, as soon as evening came, he would sneak into the infirmary to talk to you about his day. He told it to you in every detail without doubting for a second that you would eventually open your eyes.

✧ You were a survivor in his eyes. Period.

✧ As soon as you woke up, he brought you a piece of meat before even kissing or cuddling you.

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎

✧ From the moment you were injured and he looked up at your attacker, the Marine himself saw his life flash before his eyes.

The East Blue demon may have been on the other side of the battlefield, but he distinctly felt the drop of sweat running down his spine at the swordsman's murderous aura.

✧ On the other hand, so caught up in his revenge, Zoro didn't think about getting you out of the combat zone.

He stayed next to you in order to defend you at the cost of his life but, not for a single second, he thought it would be a good idea to send you to Chopper. He was too caught up in his rage to think about it.

✧ It was Robin who moved you to the boat and Zoro growled when he saw your body going away.

✧ His bounty had increased when you regained consciousness.

✧ You finally recovered but he didn't let go of you when the next fight arrived. He tried to discreetly hide the stress in his stomach at the thought of you being hurt again.

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

✧ From the moment she saw you bleeding, Nami became uncompromising. She won't go to the battlefield to fight if she knows she has no chance but she will have a cold rage.

✧ Tyrannical Nami appeared.

✧ She ordered several members of the Straw Hats to take special care of the one who hurt you. She sent Sanji first because she knew she would be able to convince him easily however, if you were really badly hurt, she would give the mission to Zoro to make sure they suffered. Even if it meant forgiving him his debts.

✧ When you returned to the infirmary, she led Chopper by the nose so that he could work hard to treat you. She might even push him to the point of making him cry or exhaust him.

✧ She couldn't bear to lose anyone else.

✧ Yet, when you woke up, she denied having worried about you. Instead, she told you that you were stupid to put yourself in such danger like that.

𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐏

✧ No matter the terror that cut into his stomach or made him want to cry, he overcame his fear to come and protect you.

✧ He pretended throughout your convalescence that he wasn't worried about you and that everything was fine. However, after dark, he would come to your room in the infirmary every night to sleep next to you and beg you to open your eyes. Not to die. Not to leave him alone.

✧ Seeing you, helpless, dying on a bed reactivated his traumas about his mother.

✧ His physical condition deteriorated because of the anxiety that was eating him from the inside. He was far too agitated to sleep, eat, or even think.

✧ The whole crew would see that he walked like a caged lion but he didn't want to bother anyone with his problems and traumas. He will eventually explode and tell them everything, and they will support him through this difficult phase until you are fully recovered.

✧ That didn't stop him from bragging about your rescue once the whole story was done.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

✧ As soon as he saw you on the ground, he immediately gave up his competition with Zoro over who would beat the most Marines or who would defeat the strongest. He forgot the swordsman and his taunts, to see him leave, and he went towards you as quickly as his legs carried him.

✧ He brought you back to safety as soon as possible.

✧ He watched over you throughout your convalescence. He didn't leave your room unless it was to cook for the crew or to wash himself. Otherwise, he took up residence on your bed or the chair next to it.

✧ No matter how hard the crew tried, he didn't get through the door.

Chopper tried to get him out—to take some time for himself—by promising to watch you but Sanji refused. Robin offered to take care of you while he slept in his own bed but he didn't leave your side. Nami asked him to visit the city together, and carry her shopping bags, but he didn't look at her. Even Zoro tried to trouble him to take his mind off you but Sanji didn't pay him any attention.

✧ His life only resumed when you woke up.

𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

✧ At first glance, she maintained impressive composure.

✧ She was very methodical in the procedure to follow: she formed a cocoon around you while she reached you, she protected you closely, brought you back safely on the boat and ended up entrusting you to the doctor.

✧ As soon as that was done, she returned to the battlefield and all hell broke loose on the entire Marine squadron.

✧ Even Luffy let her finish the fight without getting involved.

✧ Throughout your convalescence, she stayed with you without really worrying. She believed in your resistance as much as Luffy. She stayed quietly reading her book in the chair in the infirmary while waiting for you to wake up.

✧ The only indication you had of her concern when you opened your eyes was when she came to kiss and hug you as soon as you woke up. You were surprised but quite happy since she wasn't someone who was demonstrative.

✧ Chopper opened the door at that moment to check on you and ran away when he saw you kissing.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @d @lys-ada @xomingyu @parkyrr @yasmiinberkaa @dozcan123 @anotherproblemsos @cellgore @sketchmilk @kai-wifey

#one piece #one piece x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #nami #nami x reader #usopp #usopp x reader #sanji #sanji x reader #nico robin #nico robin x reader

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vague-humanoid · 1 year

Text

Increasingly, it is not safe to be in public, to be human, to be fallible. I’m not quoting breathless journalism about rising crime or conservative talking points about America falling into ruin. The ruin I’m thinking of isn’t in San Francisco or Chicago or at the southern border. The ruin is woven into the fabric of America. It’s seeping into all of us. All across the country, supposedly good, upstanding citizens are often fatally enforcing ever-changing, arbitrary and personal norms for how we conduct ourselves.

In Kansas City, Mo., Ralph Yarl, a Black 16-year-old, rang the wrong doorbell. He was trying to pick up his younger brothers and was simply on the wrong street, Northeast 115th Street instead of Northeast 115th Terrace, a harmless mistake. Andrew Lester, 84 and white, shot him twice and said, according to Ralph, “Don’t come around here.” Bleeding and injured, Ralph went to three different houses, according to a family member, before those good neighbors in a good, middle-class neighborhood helped him.

In upstate New York, a 20-year-old woman, Kaylin Gillis, was looking for a friend’s house in a rural area. The driver of the car she was in turned into a driveway and the homeowner, Kevin Monahan, 65, is accused of firing twice at the car and killing Ms. Gillis.

In Illinois, William Martys was using a leaf blower in his yard. A neighbor, Ettore Lacchei, allegedly started an argument with Mr. Martys and, the police say, killed him.

Two cheerleaders were shot in a Texas parking lot after one, Heather Roth, got into the wrong car. One of her teammates, Payton Washington, was also shot. Both girls survived, with injuries.

In Cleveland, Texas, a father asked his neighbor Francisco Oropesa to stop shooting his gun on his porch because his baby was trying to sleep. Mr. Oropesa walked over to the father’s house and has been charged with killing five people, including an 8-year-old boy, with an AR-15-style rifle. Two of the slain adults were found covering children, who survived.

At a Walgreens in Nashville, Mitarius Boyd suspected that Travonsha Ferguson, who was seven months pregnant, was shoplifting. Instead of calling the police, he followed Ms. Ferguson and her friend into the parking lot and, after one of the women sprayed mace in his face, according to Mr. Boyd, began firing. Ms. Ferguson was rushed to the hospital, where she had an emergency C-section and her baby was born two months early.

And sometimes there is no gun. On Monday, Jordan Neely, a Michael Jackson impersonator experiencing homelessness, was yelling and, according to some subway riders, acting aggressively on an F train in New York City. “I don’t have food, I don’t have a drink, I’m fed up,” Mr. Neely cried out. “I don’t mind going to jail and getting life in prison. I’m ready to die.” Was he making people uncomfortable? I’m sure he was. But his were the words of a man in pain. He did not physically harm anyone. And the consequence for causing discomfort isn’t death unless, of course, it is. A former Marine held Mr. Neely in a chokehold for several minutes, killing the man. News reports keep saying Mr. Neely died, which is a passive thing. We die of old age. We die in a car accident. We die from disease. When someone holds us in a chokehold for several minutes, something far worse has occurred.

A man actively brought about Mr. Neely’s death. No one appears to have intervened during those minutes to help Mr. Neely, though two men apparently tried to help the former Marine. Did anyone ask the former Marine to release Mr. Neely from his chokehold? The people in that subway car prioritized their own discomfort and anxiety over Mr. Neely’s distress. All of the people in that subway car on Monday will have to live with their apparent inaction and indifference. Now that it’s too late, there are haunting, heartbreaking images of Mr. Neely, helpless and pinned, still being choked. How does something like this happen? How does this senseless, avoidable violence happen? Truly, how? We all need to ask ourselves that question until we come up with an acceptable answer.

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piichuu · 8 months

Text

♡ TREATING HIS WOUNDS

ft. levi ackerman, reiner braun, jean kirschtein, erwin smith, eren yeager

WARNINGS: mentions of blood and wounds, broken arms etc, fluff, gn!reader

LEVI ACKERMAN

“you shouldn’t worry about such small scratches. it’s not a big deal,” your boyfriend speaks as he’s sitting on a chair in the medical tent. initially, you had planned for doctors to take care of his wounds, but as there were much more severe injuries to take care of, you took things into your own hands and pushed him onto the nearest chair before you began searching for a medical kit you could borrow.

he has just come back from a mission together with the survey corps and as soon as you saw the small wounds on his arms and how he could barely walk properly, you grabbed his hand to pull him towards the medical tent. “these are not scratches, they’re wounds. you’ve obviously hurt your knee as well, stop trying to deny it,” you speak with tears in your eyes. he may be the strongest soldier of them all, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t constantly worrying for him.

you begin to clean the small wounds on his arms, making sure there is no chance they’ll get infected before bandaging them. meanwhile, levi is looking down at you, now with a softer gaze than the one he previously wore as you practically forced him to walk here when he himself didn’t think he needed any help. seeing the tears in your eyes however do cause him to frown slightly, not enjoying when you worry so much.

“hey, i’m okay. it could have been a lot worse-“ “don’t say that! i don’t want to think it could’ve been worse. if i got to decide, you wouldn’t even be on the survey corps anymore,” you mumble while pulling up the leg of his pants to check his knee, gently touching it which causes him to let out a pained groan. “i’ll ask a doctor to look at this when they have some free time, i don’t think you’ll be able to walk properly for a while…”

that’s enough. he can’t handle seeing that sad expression on your face when realizing that he has been injured, even if it isn’t as severe as so many others. “look at me,” he cups your face, forcing you to look at him. “i’m alive. i won’t die during a mission, that’s a promise. you can trust me, as long as i have you by my side, i will always fight to survive,” he speaks while looking into your eyes.

you nod and quickly wrap your arms around him even if it looks a little awkward with you now standing up again as he sits on the chair. he strokes your back gently and sighs. “i’m so happy you’re back again,” you mumble and he nods, continuing to stroke your back. “me too. i guess i’ll be stuck here for a while as well with this knee, so we’ll have to make the best of it.”

REINER BRAUN

you’re quiet while inspecting his face, touching the small bruises you can find. as he doesn’t react to your touches, relief spreads throughout your body, but as you notice that he’s bleeding through his shirt by the arm, your heart instantly sinks again. reiner notices where your gaze has headed as well and sighs, knowing he has once again caused you to worry. “i promise it doesn’t hurt too much, baby. don’t worry, please?” he strokes your hair gently, but only for a short while before you take hold of his hand and lead him into the bathroom.

“what happened, reiner?” you ask while helping him hop onto the counter as you rummage through the cupboards to find the med kit. “was out training and went a little too hard. i fell on a tree branch, i won’t be training outside next time,” he mumbles, watching as you finally pull out a few paper towels to try to get rid of most of the blood.

he doesn’t know what to say as you treat the wound on his arm. the disinfection you carefully put onto his wounds does sting, but it is bearable. you’re always so careful with him when he’s been injured, no matter how severe it is. something he hates is worrying you but it is still something he often succeeds to do. “i’m sorry, darling. i know you’ve told me to be careful when i’m training outside,” he mumbles while leaning his head back against the wall. a day full of training with friends does become exhausting after all.

“it’s okay, i just don’t like to see you hurt,” your voice can barely be heard as you speak, focusing on taking care of his arm that receives a bandage from you. but you still aren’t finished as you once again go quiet to check if his arm is broken. “it doesn’t hurt that much, and it’s not broken, don’t worry. we already checked that after i fell.”

you sigh and nod, putting the med kit back into the cupboard as reiner gets back on his feet and goes to wrap his arms around your waist. “you worry about me too much,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to your cheek as you put your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder blade. “i know, but after all those years of you fighting titans and humans, i never know what will happen when you’re out and about…”

“that was years ago, darling. the worst that can happen to me is something like this. i’m not risking my life like that anymore, okay? don��t worry about me, this wound will heal in a second. you’ll get a heart attack if you worry every time i leave the house,” you nod in agreement and close your eyes. reiner then opens his mouth to continue speaking. “i do worry about you too though, so i guess i can’t say much, but i want you to be happy, not to worry about me. i’m always gonna come back home to you.”

JEAN KIRSCHTEIN

“you need to be more careful, jean,” you mumble while cleaning the few wounds that are covering his face. it had been hit by tree branches as him and the rest of the survey corps were out on a less dangerous mission, but he had still succeeded to get hurt. he himself told you that he forgot to cover his face as they rode in the middle of the woods where most of the trees were.

he pouts slightly, getting scolded by you for probably the hundredth time during your relationship as he’s often out on dangerous missions and is risking his life. “i didn’t know it would be so crowded with trees. connie got hit too!” “neither you or connie are the smartest, so don’t use that as an excuse.”

jean sighs but wraps his arms around your waist. “don’t be mad at me, please,” his pout grows and you roll your eyes, but a small smile slowly appears over your face. “i’m not mad, i was just worried that it would be more severe. connie wasn’t really making it sound like it was something small, i thought you’d almost gotten eaten by a titan or something,” you explain which now causes your boyfriend to frown.

“he’s so dumb, i’m sorry that he made you worry so much,” he cups your face and looks at you with a soft smile playing at his lips while you’re putting bandages onto his cheeks and forehead. “it’s nice though, knowing that you worry so much about me. it makes me feel loved even if i don’t want you to feel so worried all the time.”

you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in to give him a quick kiss. he looks at you with sparkling eyes and pulls you closer to him. “thank you for always taking care of me, i love you so so much,” he whispers, kissing your cheek before burying his face into the crook of your neck. “i love you too, jean. let’s go cuddle now.” “sounds good to me.”

ERWIN SMITH

“don’t cry, darling,” erwin speaks as you’re currently changing the bandage on his shoulder, right where his arm was bitten off by one of the many titans. it’s only been a few days since then and he’s supposed to change bandage every few days as it may still bleed a little. seeing the large wound does however cause tears to fill your eyes, how can it not? he’s your boyfriend after all and knowing the pain he must’ve felt as he lost the arm hurts your heart.

erwin strokes your hair gently and tilts his head to the side. “hey, it’s okay. it doesn’t hurt as much anymore,” his voice is soft just like his eyes and you meet his gaze as you finally look away from his arm with tears running down your cheeks. “i’m sorry, it just makes me so sad to think about it. i wish you didn’t have to go through so much pain.”

“don’t apologize, darling. it’s gonna heal soon and we won’t have to change this bandage as much. it’s a shame i only have one arm though, but it will stop hurting, i promise,” he smiles sweetly while moving his hand to your cheek, just wanting you to look at him at the moment, not wanting you to focus on his shoulder for now. “i’m okay, don’t worry about me. i’m still alive, that’s what matters.”

you nod and wipe your tears away, giving him a slight smile before you go back to bandaging his large wound. meanwhile, erwin is trying his best not to let out groans of pain as he doesn’t want you to worry even more. instead, he keeps a smile on his face and kisses your cheek as you finally finish treating the wound. “thank you, my love.”

he puts his arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead. “i have to do some paperwork now. if you want, you can keep me company, but i’ll try to finish in an hour so we can do whatever you want later,” the two of you smile at one another and you nod. “i’ll keep you company, i promise i won’t try to distract you.” “i doubt i can believe that, but i’ll be happy to have you there.”

EREN YEAGER

eren watches as you’re cleaning his wounds even if you’re aware of the fact that they will heal by themselves. he is a titan shifter after all, but does that matter to you? no. you still can’t trust the process and therefore continue to treat his wounds every single time he’s hurt, even if the wounds will heal in only a minute or two.

“your really don’t have to worry, baby. i’m gonna be completely fine, it doesn’t even hurt,” he speaks as his arm with all the wounds finally begin to heal and he allows you to look at the arm so you can see that it’s actually healed. “look, completely fine. there’s nothing to worry about.”

you nod and sigh before he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him, as close as you can get. “but thank you for caring about me. i’m happy i’m the one who gets hurt all the time and not you. i don’t know what i would do with myself if you were injured,” he kisses your cheek and hums contently, happy to be close to you after many hours out on a mission.

“but i don’t like it when you’re hurt, even if you heal quick by yourself. even if it doesn’t hurt for long, i don’t want you to be in pain at all,” you pout, getting a chuckle out of him as he leans in to kiss the pout away. “i guess i won’t ever get you to stop worrying, but just remember that i will always come back home to you and allow you to treat my wounds, because that’s always better than me dying. i love you, baby, okay?”

“i love you too eren. just try not to get hurt so often, please?” you look at him with pleading eyes and he nods, smiling softly. “okay, i’ll try my best. i promise that i’ll try my best.”

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