#lavender flu | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justagalwhowrites · 6 months

Text

Stitches: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel comes into the clinic after getting hurt on the job. A non-canon one shot set in the Lavender universe.

^Gif not representative of reader's appearance, just here for the vibes.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words to be written by April 1, 2024. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author to be paid to PCRF on April 2, 2024 in honor of Pedro Pascal's birthday ❤️ Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender, QZ era

Warnings: Brief description of injury. Angst. Smut (P in V sex). No use of Y/N, Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4k

A/N: Sooooo this one got a little away from me (shocking, I know.) I can't promise all of this collection will be this long but apparently I really missed Joel and Doc. Written for @suzmagine after she requested QZ era Joel and Doc with angst and smut :)

For You Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sunday, September 20, 2015

“I’ve got one more for you,” Marta hovered outside the patient room, a file folder in her hands.

You groaned.

“Another one?” You asked. “Shouldn’t we be done for the day by now? Shouldn’t we have been done for the day an hour ago?”

“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” she replied. “I’m the one who’s been pulling double duty all day because Andrew’s out…”

“And I’m the one who’s had twice the patient load because the entire QZ has the flu,” you sighed before you pinched the bridge of your nose. This wasn’t helping either of you. “Alright, just… Please tell me this is the last one.”

“Last one,” she said. “Doors are locked.”

“Speakeasy after this?” You asked, opening the folder.

“I would but Brian and I are going to a friend’s place tonight,” she smiled, almost sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed. “I just need to get a life….” You glanced down at the intake notes. Just stitches and antibiotics, on order from FEDRA. “This looks basic, why don’t you head on out. I can finish up here.”

“Really?” She asked. You just nodded and she squealed a little. “Thank you so much!”

You tried to not be jealous of the fact that she had a life to go home to. In all reality, you shouldn’t be upset about staying late at work. It’s not like you had anything else going on. Once Tommy left the QZ and Andrew and Jess started spending more time just the two of them while she was down for the count because of her pregnancy, you pretty much spent your time not at work at home, doing a lot of nothing.

“I need a hobby,” you muttered to yourself before making your way down to the exam room where your last patient was waiting for you.

You knocked once on the door and gave the patient a moment to answer before you opened it, reviewing the intake notes as you did.

“Hi there,” you said, looking up from the file. “I’m….”

Your voice trailed off. Joel was sitting there, perched on the end of the exam table, his eyes ranging over you.

“Don’t think you need to introduce yourself, Kid,” he said, giving you a wry half smile.

You looked back at the file. In the name field was just J.M. - FEDRA. You frowned and looked back at him.

“FEDRA sent you in?” You set the file down on the counter before going to wash your hands. “Why, did you pick a fight with a guard?”

“No,” he quirked his jaw. “Just some equipment on sewer duty.”

“Lucky you,” you said, pulling your chair up beside the table. You sat down, closer to him than you’d been since you’d been almost blown up before Tommy left the QZ. “Well, I’m sure you’d rather see anybody else but I’m afraid there’s something going around and I’m the only doctor who’s here right now. Since you’re here on FEDRA orders, I can’t really let you leave and come back another time…”

“S’fine,” he cut you off. “It’s not… I don’t mind. That it’s you, I mean.”

“Oh,” you said, a little taken aback. You tried to hide it as you pulled on your gloves. “Well that’s… good. Why don’t take off your shirt, looks like the injury is on your stomach?”

“Yeah,” he said, unbuttoning his top. “They put a bandage on me there but said I’d need stitches and shit to keep it from gettin’ infected.”

“Yeah, I feel like dying from an infection that doesn’t turn people into monsters in this day and age is a bit of a raw deal.”

Joel snorted and shrugged out of the shirt. You saw a bandage, stained with blood, near his belly button. You winced a little, even though you’d seen so much of Joel’s blood at this point you thought you should be used to it. But it never got any easier, knowing he was putting himself at risk, knowing he was in pain.

Blood was a good distraction, though, when you thought about it. Joel without his shirt had always been a weak spot for you. Blood was one way to keep you from focusing on things you shouldn’t. Like the fact that his chest was broad and firm and you knew just what it would be to rest your head against him there and listen to the steady thrum of his heart as you fell asleep.

“I’m going to remove the bandage, OK?” You said, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He just gave you a single nod and you pulled down the bundle of gauze and tape to expose a jagged cut that dipped into the muscle of his abdomen. You hissed a little in sympathetic pain. “What’d you do, Joel?”

“Had to jump to dodge an out of control truck,” he said. “Ended up landin’ on something sharp. Hurt like a bitch but… had worse.”

“Had worse is a damn low bar for you,” you said, gingerly examining the wound. “Good news is, this is even cleaner than I expected. Actually, you’re cleaner than I expected, you don’t smell like you were on sewer duty.”

“Yeah, well, figured patchin’ me up wouldn’t do much if I was covered in shit,” he said, voice beaten down by the misery that was QZ life. It was a tone you knew well. “Showered before I came.”

You nodded slowly.

“I’ll numb you up and get this all closed,” you said, sitting back from him. “Go ahead and lie back for me while I get set up.”

You gathered what you needed and came back to find Joel flat on the table, his hands folded over the base of his chest. The cracked face of the watch glinted in the florescent light and you tried not to think about how his arms looked bare. You hadn’t seen his arms bare in so long.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair back up alongside him and changed gloves.

“Small poke,” you said as you injected the local anesthetic. He grunted but stayed still. You gave it a few minutes to kick in before you gently prodded the wound. “Feel that?”

“No,” he said.

You nodded and set to work, flushing out the wound and aligning his damaged skin to stitch it closed.

“So,” you said after the silence was heavy in the room. “How’ve you been since Tommy left?”

His body tensed a little.

“Fine,” he said gruffly. “Just a bit quiet around the apartment.”

You nodded slowly, focusing on your stitching.

“I hope you’re not just sitting in there all alone,” you said, half teasing half serious. “Even you need social contact now and then.”

“M’fine.”

There was something in his tone that made you feel like he was not, in fact, fine. As much as you tried to forget, you carried so much of the intimacies of Joel Miller within you. How he looked when his face was relaxed in sleep, how he felt when he held you like you were the only thing he had left in the world, how he sounded when he was in pain. He sounded that way now.

“Are you?” You asked, lifting your eyes from his stomach to look up his body to his face. His head was raised just enough to look back at you.

“Not your damn business what I am or what I’m not,” he snapped, lowering his head back to the exam table. “Leave it.”

“I’m just…” you paused as you finished the last stitch. “I worry about you sometimes is all. I know you don’t have a lot of people, Joel, and…”

“I’m not your fuckin’ problem,” he bit out, sitting up so fast that you shocked back from him. “I don’t need you pokin’ around my life and fuckin’ it up anymore than you already have so just leave it, alright!”

“Alright,” you said quietly, tears pinching at the back of your throat.

“You done sewin’ me shut?” He snapped. You nodded, still trying to resist the urge to cry. “Good.”

He snatched his shirt up and stalked out of the room, not even stopping to put it on.

You took a deep, shaky breath, staring at the place where Joel had just been. You tried not to think about how, for just a few minutes, there had been a quiet intimacy there like there had been with him before. How he felt comfortable and safe beside you, where you could run your fingers over his skin and see where his hair was starting to gray.

You gave yourself a few minutes to calm down before you started cleaning up, trying to focus on getting home so you could curl up in a ball in your bed where you were warm and safe, even if you were alone. You were starting to clear the tray of tools when you realized the syringe of penicillin was still there, shiny and full.

You’d never given him the antibiotics.

“Shit,” you muttered, voice wet.

You set it aside and finished cleaning up before grabbing a bottle of pain killers and an oral course of antibiotics and setting out to Joel’s place.

He answered quickly, all but ripping the door open and looking surprised to find you there when he did.

“What do you want,” he snapped.

“You still need antibiotics,” you said quietly, fighting to not flinch back from him. You held up the small bag with the syringe, bandages and pills inside. “You left before I could give them to you.”

He quirked his jaw but stepped aside, opening the door wide enough for you to come in. You set the bag down on the table and started taking off your coat.

“Didn’t say you could fuckin’ stay,” Joel said, voice still sharp.

“I figured you’d want me having full range of motion with my arms when I’m sticking you with a needle,” you said harshly before closing your eyes for a moment, forcing yourself to calm down. “I need to get at the wound again so… shirt off.”

He ground his teeth but obeyed, pulling the shirt off. You sat down at the table and got the syringe ready and he stood beside you there and you had the strangest urge to kiss his stomach. You pressed your lips together instead.

“If you didn’t run off this would probably hurt less,” you said. “But the anesthetic might be wearing off already so… small pinch.”

You pressed the syringe into his skin and pushed down on the plunger. He flinched once and that was it.

“Just going to bandage you up,” you said, not waiting for a response.

“Why’d you come here,” Joel asked as you taped the bandage over his damaged skin. You looked up at him, frowning. His eyes were on yours, deep and warm and chocolate brown.

“You needed…”

“Don’t give me that,” he cut you off. “You could have fuckin’ left it, told you enough times that I don’t want shit to do with you now so why are you really here? Not like FEDRA was gonna come and check and make sure I was on their ordered drugs so what is it?”

“Do you really think I’d just let something happen to you?” You asked quietly. “You might not care if I live or die anymore but I care about you. I’m always going to care about you.”

You didn’t wait for.a response. You looked back to his stomach and finished taping the bandage in place before taking the pills out and setting them on table before getting up and pulling your jacket back on.

“Instructions are on the bottles,” you said. “Take all the antibiotics, every last one, I don’t care if you’re feeling well and your cut is magically healed, still take them. Change out the bandages every 24 hours for the first few days, come by the clinic if there’s a lot of blood or discomfort. Pain medication as needed. I’m sure you’ll just sell whatever’s left…”

You grabbed the now empty bag off the table and turned to go to the door but Joel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back around. You frowned, looking at where he was touching you before looking back to him.

“Joel…”

“You really think I don’t care about you?” He asked, voice heated. “You really think I don’t give a shit? Hm?”

You shrank back from him as much as you could while he held you in place, his grip on you tight.

“Joel…” you said again but he cut you off.

“You think I don’t care if you live or die?” It took you a moment to realize that he didn’t sound angry. He sounded… hurt? Offended? Both? “Jesus…”

“You’re hurting me, Joel.”

He scowled but dropped your wrist.

“After everything I’ve done,” he snapped. “After everything we’ve been through, you think I don’t fuckin’ care?”

“Why would I think you care?” You tried to sound mad but you just sounded hurt, your voice quivering. “All you’ve done for years now is tell me how I hurt you, how you wish you’d never met me, how you don’t want to see me again! Even when you’ve done something that you say is for me or because of me you act like your obligated to me in some way but you’re not and I wish you’d just leave me alone! I can’t keep doing this with you, I’m so tired of being your burden, Joel!”

You tried to turn to go but his hands were on you again but on your shoulders this time, his fingers digging into your flesh there. His eyes searched yours for half a moment before he pulled you sharply to him, his hands flying from your shoulders to your face to tilt your head to just the right angle, gripping you tight and desperate, before his lips crashed into your own.

It took you a second to fully understand what was happening but your body responded before your mind. It might have been years since you last kissed Joel but your lips knew his. They conformed to his like the familiar ground they were, giving to the hot press of him as he licked into your mouth.

You moaned and wrapped your arms around his waist, forgetting, for a moment, that he was injured. He hissed in pain and you tried to pull back but his grip on you grew tighter, fingertips pressing into your skull. Your body curved against his and you were suddenly acutely aware that he was shirtless, that you could feel his skin on yours if you could just take your own shirt off, too.

His hold on you eventually loosened and he pulled back from you, the brown of his iris almost entirely swallowed by his pupil now as he panted for breath. His thumbs traced the arch of your cheekbones.

“I care,” he said, voice hungry and low. “I care more about you than about any other person left on this godforsaken planet…”

“Joel…” you were breathless, heat and tension pooling at your core.

“And I’m tired of tryin’ to stay away from you.”

He pulled you back against him, gently that time. His lips were soft on yours, his tongue tracing the seam of you until you opened for him. You could properly taste him now, the mint of his toothpaste and the bitter tang of liquor and the familiar flavor of his skin. You drank it up, needing it like water. His hands left your face, sliding down your body to your waist. He pulled at your shirt, separating from you just enough to pull it up and over your head, taking a moment to look down at your body, an expression of almost reverence on his face as he panted for breath.

Joel tugged you toward him again, his mouth quickly finding yours, as he unhooked your bra. He slid that off your body, too, and cradled you to him.

You moaned into his mouth, you couldn’t help it, as your arms went around his neck. His skin was everywhere, so soft and so warm and just like you remembered. He felt so good against you, like home, and the ache of missing him flared to life inside your chest, sharp and cruel.

Part of you knew you should put a stop to this now, before it went any further. He was only going to push you away again, just like he had after Boston. It was only going to hollow you out and leave you feeling more desperately alone than ever.

But you couldn’t resist him. You’d missed him too much over the years, he was too much a part of you to ever dream of pushing him away. You needed this. You needed him.

You let him guide you toward the couch, his fingers prying at the button of your jeans before pushing those and your underwear down your body, too. You stepped out of them and your shoes together before Joel gently lowered you, completely bared to him, to the rough, aging fabric of the couch. You watched as he stood over you, your eyes wide, as he opened his own pants, freeing his cock and swiping his thumb over his leaking tip before stroking himself in long, slow strokes.

“Tell me you want this,” his voice trembled. “We can stop right now…”

“I need you,” you cut him off with a needy whisper. “Please.”

He didn’t need any more prompting. He shoved his pants and underwear down before he nudged your legs apart and settled between them. He gripped the root of his thick, heavy cock and trailed his tip over your leaking slit, moaning as he did.

“Missed this wet little pussy,” he notched his head at your entrance before thrusting halfway inside you with a short, sharp stroke. You gasped at the stretch of him, your back arching and fingers scrambling at the tattered upholstery. “Fuck, still so fuckin’ tight. Gotta be fuckin’ dripping for me or I’d never get inside you…”

He pulled back just a little, his thumb finding your clit and pressing into you there, working you in a slow circle. He thrust back into you, a little further this time.

“You get this soft and hot and wet for anyone else?” He asked, a possessive edge to his voice as his eyes ranged over your naked body. “Or you save that just for me?”

“Just for you,” you didn’t care that you sounded desperate and pathetic. You just needed him inside of you, filling you totally. “It’s all for you, I’ve always been all for you.”

“You all mine, Baby?” He asked, pulling back and thrusting deeper. “This little pussy all mine?”

“Yes,” you rocked your hips up against him but he pressed down on you, holding you in place and making you whimper. “Fuck, please…”

“How about the rest of you?” He asked, his hand leaving your clit as he lowered himself onto you. His skin was on yours, the plush swell of his stomach against you, his chest tight to your own. His hand came up to brush your hair back and cradle the crown of your head, his thumb tracing over you there. His eyes searched yours and, for the first time in years, you saw the Joel you’d fallen in love with so long ago. The quiet strength of him, the gentle care, the fierce love, the raw and aching whole of him there with nothing holding him back. “Want all of you, want that so much more than your perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

“Joel…”

“Say you’re mine,” he thrust deeper and you keened at the feel of him inside you, so close to having all of him within you where you’d known he belonged from the first time you’d taken him into yourself. “Tell me I’m not gonna lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you breathed. “I promise, you can’t lose me.”

He pulled back a little and you whimpered at the loss.

“Say you’ll let me protect you,” he thrust in, almost to the root this time, and held himself there. Your channel tightened around him.

“Joel,” you were having a hard time remembering how to say anything but his name, that single word the most vital one you’d ever known. “Please…”

“Tell me,” he ground himself against you, his skin on your clit, his cock pressing into your most sensitive places. “Let me take care of you, protect you. Say it.”

“You can protect me,” your hands found their way to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin there. “You can take care of me, I promise…”

“Let me love you,” he pulled back again but it was his words and not how he was moving inside you that made you gasp. “Say it. Tell me I can love you, that it’s safe to love you.”

You reached up and gently traced his hairline before threading your fingers through his curls, your eyes on his.

“I haven’t been the one stopping you from loving me,” you whispered.

“I never stopped,” he rocked himself part way into you again before pulling back. “Always loved you, always. But I need it to be safe, I can’t love you without it destroyin’ me if it’s not. Please, baby. Tell me. Tell me I can love you.”

“You can love me, Joel,” you said softly. “It’s safe. I’m safe.”

He kissed you, his mouth claiming yours and he pressed all the way inside you then, making your back arch and legs go tight around his hips. You moaned against his lips as he held himself deep within you for a moment before pulling back again.

It might have been years but your body knew Joel’s. You knew just how to take him and he knew just how to make you come, his hips grinding down into you when he was fully seated inside of your tight channel, making his cock tease your most tender places while his hips worked your clit. He fucked you deep and hard and greedy, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he wanted to lay claim to all of you.

The tight band of pleasure inside of you wound tighter and tighter until it snapped when he was pressed deep, your walls fluttering over him. He moaned against your lips and fucked you through it, never slowing, never letting up, making it so your orgasm never really subsided. It just rolled into building the next one until he pulled his desperate and needy mouth from yours.

“Not gonna last, Baby,” he ground himself deeper, as if to make his point. “Where -”

“Inside me,” you panted. “I need to feel you, please don’t leave, please, inside me, please…”

He kissed you again, fucking you a little harder and faster, driving the band of pleasure tighter and higher until you felt him press deep and pulse inside you, triggering your next orgasm.

You came with him, your pussy rippling over him as he throbbed, emptying himself into you.

His body went slack for a moment before he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes returning to their normal color. They looked over your face for a moment before locking onto your own and you had a moment of fear that the walls would go up again. That the cold, disconnected Joel who had taken over since he’d come to the QZ would be back. But his eyes stayed soft and open and warm, his large palm still cradling the top of your head.

“Tell me you meant all that,” you whispered even though you were afraid of what the answer was.

“Oh, Baby.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead before trailing his nose over your own. “I meant every word. I promise.”

You smiled, looking into Joel’s eyes and realizing that, even though you were still stuck inside the QZ, you were right where you belonged.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #lavender #smut fic #For You

181 notes · View notes

becomingthatgirl111 · 2 years

Text

teas you should include in your diet and some of their benefits

green tea

antioxidant promotes fat burning, improves physical performance, accelerates metabolism, relaxes, improves mental focus and concentration, acts as a neuroprotective, is good against stomach diseases, improves the quality of life.

red tea

helps to lose weight, increases energy, aids digestion, reduces stress, strengthens the immune system.

black tea

is an antioxidant, ideal to be consumed before meals, as it prepares the digestive system to work properly, protects the immune system, prevents tooth decay and oral diseases, reduces stress, activates the mind, improves concentration and memory, diuretic.

white tea

this tea variety highest in antioxidants cares for the skin, moisturizes the skin, perfect anti-aging drink, is good for oral health, helps to lose weight, eliminates bad breath.

lavender tea

helps sleep, relieves menstrual cramps, improves skin health, helps with stomach problems, relieves headaches, is very relaxing.

jasmine tea

helps against stress and tension, reduces the chances of colds and flu, helps to lose weight, helps to improve circulation.

ginger tea

relieves inflammation, improves brain function, relieves menstrual cramps, regulates blood sugar levels, lowers cholesterol levels, and promotes healthy digestive systems.

matcha tea

burns fat, provides energy, can help reduce anxiety, improves skin, improves concentration, improves oral health, quenches hunger and quenches thirst naturally.

how many cups of tea to drink per day? 3 at the most

when do i drink tea? sometimes in the morning, but i usually drink it after lunch and dinner.

remember that teas do not replace meals, they only complement to improve our health.

and it is much more recommendable if you get natural tea since its benefits are more potent.

2K notes · View notes

vorfreudevortex · 2 months

Text

a portrait of us - nine

a nanami x reader smau

masterlist

warnings: angst lol, slow burn, swearing, a little ooc, a typo or two

notes: 1.6k words and i am only a little sorry

nanami kento had no idea what he what he was doing.

he was not the kind of man who pursued a woman from a relationship that had ended over a decade ago, nor the type to follow one who vanished without a goodbye and hadn’t spoken to him since. in truth, he wasn’t one to chase after any woman at all. his life allowed no time for such foolishness, and he had yet to meet anyone else worthy of that time.

he also wasn’t the type to deviate from his usual schedule and activities. for nanami, saturday evenings were reserved for a leisurely stroll through the park near his apartment, ending in a visit to the grocery store for fresh meat and produce. then, he’d return home to cook himself a hearty dinner, usually indulging in a favorite recipe but sometimes experimenting with a new one.

he’d relish his meal with a glass of expensive, but not too expensive, wine before indulging in a hot bath. his favorite ritual was finishing the bottle with a few chapters of a book while soaking in bath salts and lavender until the water turned cold.

if the book captivated him, he’d continue reading in bed; otherwise, he might watch a nostalgic movie in the living room. saturday nights were his sanctuary, a time to indulge in simple pleasures: fresh air, a home-cooked meal, wine, a book, and a restful night with no morning obligations.

that was absolutely not the case for nanami tonight.

he suspected he might be coming down with something, as he felt unusually off while scrutinizing his freshly trimmed hair in the mirror. this afternoon, he had an impulsive urge to tidy up his undercut and hairline. earlier that morning, he felt strangely compelled to invest in new clothing—a sage green linen blazer and ankle-length slacks, to be precise.

he donned his new outfit, carefully combing through his hair one last time. He wore his usual brown dress shoes, watch, and leather holster over his white shirt, carrying his blunt sword. nanami decided to forgo his beloved spotted necktie, instead folding it neatly into his blazer’s inner pocket, just in case. the outfit felt unfamiliar, and he wondered if the men in fashion magazines felt equally peculiar in such short pants.

nanami was now convinced he had caught a strange cold or flu. why was he wearing sage green? why had he purchased it, knowing he’d likely never wear it again? why was he grabbing a bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite, before locking the door and heading to his car? and although he loved art, why was he preparing to attend a sumptuous gallery opening, filled with wealthy patrons he didn’t want to be around?

as his trembling fingers unlocked the car door, he made a mental note to schedule a doctor’s appointment later in the week.

———

the director placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder as he handed you the microphone. over 250 hands applauded, but their sound was merely a distant murmur. you took a steadying breath as the applause faded and prepared to speak.

“i'd like to thank you all for attending my gallery tonight,” you began. “i never imagined my art would one day be in a museum gallery, and i'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity.”

as the audience applauded again, you searched for satoru, shoko, and the students. you finally spotted them in the middle of the crowd—shoko waved, satoru and yuji gave a thumbs-up, and the other students smiled warmly. you grinned in response, comforted by familiar faces among a sea of strangers.

“i've always gravitated toward modern pieces with bold traits and colors, but i also create works inspired by famous art. i love re-imagining poses, emotions, and other elements from those pieces to capture the redefined aura i perceive from them. i've never settled on a single style, so you’ll notice my art incorporates elements from neoclassicism to impressionism, all on one canvas.”

you silently scanned the audience, gauging their reactions. you noticed the woman from malaysia, with whom you’d spoken with earlier, listening intently with a gentle smile. nearby stood an older gentleman from london, whose questions about your work had left you unsure of his opinion. his bored expression unsettled you, but you took a deep breath and continued.

“um,” you paused. “i want to express my gratitude to all of you, the museum, its patrons, and the director, with a collection of pieces created especially for my first major gallery opening. these have never been seen before and are unlike anything i've ever done. they hold deep personal significance for me…"

you turned to join four staff members, each standing beside an easel draped in black cloth, and positioned yourself next to the largest one in the center. you nodded to them and began unveiling the canvases. gasps and murmurs from the crowd turned to smiles and applause, bringing relief. your eyes met satoru's once more. he stared back, sunglasses in hand, his bright blue eyes piercing into you, mouth hanging open.

the first painting depicted him.

reminiscent of michelangelo's david, your artwork portrayed satoru with rigid, alabaster skin. one hand held a galaxy of stars, while the other formed a circle with his thumb and middle finger connecting. at first glance, the background seemed a deep, black abyss, but closer inspection revealed the painstakingly small, barely perceptible eyes you had meticulously added with matte paint.

this symbolized satoru's unparalleled power in the universe, a singular masterpiece constantly revered yet scrutinized, along with his inability to move and act freely as he wished.

the second painting featured suguru.

inspired by caspar david friedrich's wanderer above the sea of fog, it depicted suguru, his jet-black hair blowing in the wind, standing on a cliff gazing out over a misty landscape of blurred, colorful spheres. it was the dead of night, with no stars, except for a small moon shaped like an eye with a blue iris. unlike the original, your painting allowed the viewer to see suguru beginning to step off the cliff with a relieved smile.

it symbolized suguru's internal struggle with purpose and responsibility, ultimately deciding to take control and let go, as you always knew he would.

the third painting portrayed shoko.

inspired by frida kahlo's the broken column, it depicted shoko with waist-length hair, her face turned skyward, tears streaming down her cheeks. her thin, frail body was torn in half by hands reaching into the frame, revealing her spine replaced by a large surgeon’s scalpel. the background featured a familiar, glowing, traditional japanese door, blurred by smoke.

this represented shock's duty to the jujutsu society, always giving but never taking, until all that remained were her tools and an unrepairable broken body.

the fourth painting was of yu.

you replaced the woman in lawrence alma-tadema's pandora, with the painting ending at the waist. his body was strong and flushed, gazing down at the box with a familiar smile and wide, curious eyes. instead of a floral crown, you encircled his head with a halo of stars, and the background depicted him resting in a serene, lush meadow.

you couldn’t resist creating a more joyful piece for him, symbolizing the grace of his death and much-needed rest while unknowingly wreaking havoc on those near him. only later did you realize the extent of the pain his peace would bring when you first painted the portrait.

the final and largest painting was a portrait you began shortly after leaving japan many years ago and only recently completed. it was inspired by frank bernard dicksee's la belle dame sans merci.

you and nanami.

you sat on a muscular, snowy white horse, anxious and impatient to move on. instead of a pink gown like the original, you wore navy with gold buttons on the chest, torn and splattered with bright crimson blood. your expression held a pained smile, tears streaming down your cheeks.

nanami stood on the ground beside you, one hand clutching your tattered gown, the other ensnared by blades of grass and flowers climbing his wrist and forearm. tears welled in his eyes, but his face remained blank and unreadable. he wore a suit of armor like the knight in the original, but it was dull, dark, and littered with dents, holes, and bloodstains.

this was your most prized work of art, embodying the unspoken goodbye between you and your first love. the anxious horse represented your urge to flee, while the tattered, bloodied gown symbolized the physical and mental toll of jujutsu. your expression showed the relief of leaving and the guilt of doing so. nanami's face masked his betrayal with stoicism, yet tears betrayed him to reveal his grief of losing yet another loved one. the flowers and grass symbolized his responsibilities in tokyo—the lives he needed to protect, the elders to please, and the peers to support.

you looked out at the audience with a bright, confident smile, scanning the patrons’ faces to see if their applause matched their thoughts. you started with satoru, shoko, and the students, all clapping happily, with satoru and shoko waving with flushed cheeks. the bored man from london now appeared intrigued, especially by the painting of suguru.

your eyes skipped over a stiff figure near the back of the audience.

i hadn’t noticed that man here before, you thought.

no.

he’s all too familiar.

your gaze landed on the man with broad shoulders clad in a dusty sage green blazer over a crisp ivory shirt, sandy blonde hair neatly cut and parted. hollow cheeks framed a strong jaw, and soft, coffee-brown eyes bored into yours.

it simply couldn’t be him…

no- it simply couldn’t be anyone else.

nanami kento.

next: part ten

tag list // @bubybubsters @sad-darksoul @corvid007 @kenqki @ikon-teen

#jjk smau #jjk texts #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk kento #kento nanami #kento x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento #nanami x reader #itadori yuji #yuji itadori #jjk itadori #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk angst

99 notes · View notes

coven-of-genesis · 1 year

Text

Herbal tea basics -

Herbal teas can help with a wide range of health issues, depending on the type of tea and the specific properties of the herbs used.

Here are a few examples:

Digestive issues: Ginger, peppermint, and chamomile tea can help soothe an upset stomach, relieve bloating, and aid digestion.

Anxiety & stress: Chamomile, lavender, and lemon balm tea are known for their calming and relaxing properties, and can help reduce feelings of anxiety and stress.

Insomnia: Valerian root, passionflower, and chamomile tea can help promote relaxation and improve sleep quality, making them useful for treating insomnia.

Cold & flu symptoms: Echinacea, elderflower, and ginger tea can help boost the immune system, reduce inflammation, and relieve symptoms of colds and flu.

Menstrual cramps: Ginger and chamomile tea can help relieve menstrual cramps and other symptoms of premenstrual syndrome (PMS).

Headaches: Peppermint and ginger tea can help relieve headaches and migraines, thanks to their anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving properties.

It's important to note that while herbal teas can be helpful for many health issues, they are not a substitute for proper medical care.

If you have a serious health condition or are taking medication, it's always best to talk to your healthcare provider before using herbal teas or other natural remedies.

#herbal teas #herb magick #green witch #grimoire #witchblr #witchcore #witchcraft #witchlife #white witch #beginner witch #witch tips #spirituality #book of shadows

808 notes · View notes

elisysd · 1 year

Note

hi! could i please request some comfort charles? like you’re sick or feeling down and he’s just the best boyfriend ever and helps you through it? thank you so much 🧡

Thank you for your request and sorry for the little delay! Hope you'll like it! Requests are open. I'm not guarantee you to be fast tho 😅

Tissues and Pit stops

You couldn’t be sick for Charles’ home Grand Prix. You just couldn’t be. You did not know how you managed to get the flu right before Monaco’s race but here you were, in bed a box of tissues next to you and medicine to help you get rid of the headache.

You had not said anything to Charles. You did not want him to worry, he did not need that. You were not proud to admit it, but you lied to your boyfriend when he asked you if you would come to the paddock for qualifying. You pretended to have some work to catch up on, but you still would be keeping an eye on the TV and cheering him on from the window. On the other hand, you did not manage to find a good excuse to miss his race. That’s why today you would keep things slow. Bed rest, soup, and medicine and hopefully, you were praying for it, on Sunday you would be fine for the race.

But what you did not plan was for Charles to show up upset at your door after the qualifying session. Ferrari had, once again, found a new way to mess with his home Grand Prix. When you opened the door to let him in, completely caught off guard by his presence, he immediately noticed that something was wrong.

Your flat was a mess which was unusual. You were always so put together, so organised. The opposite to Charles. So, seeing cluttery everywhere and abandoned dirty plates in the sink of the kitchen surprised him to say the least.

“Babe… are you okay?” he asked carefully while looking around.

“Me? Perfectly fine. Never been this good.” You tried to persuade him while trying to suppress a sneeze. “I should ask you the question, I heard about the penalty.”

“Yeah… well it is what it is. I can’t do anything about it. I’ll try to have a good race tomorrow, but I don’t expect anything from it. I just needed to see you and hold you.”

He made a move to take you in his arms, but you skilfully avoided him, pretending to pick up something that was laying on the floor.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea… you must have so many things to do. Like meetings and people to talk to. I don’t want to stay in your way. And you must be tired. You should sleep it’s important.”

“Y/N are you sure you okay, you are acting weird.” He was starting to worry.

“What do you mean? I’m…me. My usual self.”

“No, you’re not. What are you hiding? Why is your flat a mess?”

“I told you; I caught up with some important paperwork and I just did not have time to clean.”

“I know my girlfriend and I know there is no way she would let her flat be this messy.”

His eyes scanned a room trying to find a clue that could explain his girlfriend’s strange behaviour. And then his gaze landed on the sofa where a used tissue and a stuffed animal he knew well from giving it to you on your first anniversary as a couple were lying around. As he approached, he noticed a heating bottle and a thermometer under a cushion. He did not need more to understand the matter.

“How long have you been sick?” he asked.

“It started this morning… I woke up with fever. That’s why I did not want to see you today… I don’t want you to get whatever I caught. I would feel bad.” You confessed.

“Baby, you will always be one of my biggest priorities. I want you to tell me these kinds of things.”

“I did not want you to worry…”

Without a word he took care of the stuff that was laying around in the living room before washing the dishes. When the flat looked cleaner, he took a blanket from your bedroom as well as your computer and installed them on the sofa and coffee table. He then went into the bathroom to prepare you a hot bath with some lavender in it to help you relax. Without asking for anything in return, he took care of you, washing your hair with your favourite shampoo and massaging your shoulders and back that were aching from the fever.

He then helped you get comfortable and once back in the living room he wrapped you in a big and fluffy blanket before making you both some chamomile tea. He pressed you against his chest while setting up your favourite movie, his hand tracing patterns on your skin and his lips absent-mindedly resting on the top of your head.

“Charles, I appreciate what you did, really but you should not be here. What if you got sick?”

“Then we will be sick together and honestly I don’t mind it.”

And indeed, a few days later, Charles was stuck in bed with the same flu that you had a few days prior. And just like him, you spent the day taking care of him. After all, you both did promise to one another to always stick around when things would get rough. You were each other’s rock, there in the good as well as in the bad moments. Forever and always.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #fiction #writing #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #f1 x oc #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you

699 notes · View notes

theambitiouswoman · 10 months

Text

Natural Remedies for Common Ailments 🍃

*Natural remedies can be a great option for managing common ailments, but it's important to remember that they may not always be a substitute for professional medical advice and treatment. If you have a serious or persistent health issue, it's important to consult with a doctor. Also, remember that what works for one person may not work for another. Do your independent research, some natural remedies may have interactions with medications or existing medical conditions.*

Cold and Flu:

Honey and Lemon: Mix honey and lemon in warm water to soothe a sore throat and ease congestion.

Ginger Tea: Ginger has anti-inflammatory properties and can help with nausea and congestion.

Echinacea: Some people use Echinacea supplements or tea to boost the immune system.

Headaches:

Peppermint Oil: Apply diluted peppermint oil to your temples for headache relief.

Ginger Tea: Ginger may help reduce the frequency and intensity of headaches.

Indigestion:

Peppermint Tea: Peppermint can help relax the muscles of the gastrointestinal tract.

Chamomile Tea: Chamomile has anti-inflammatory and relaxing properties.

Insomnia:

Valerian Root: Valerian root supplements or tea may promote relaxation and help with sleep.

Lavender Oil: Lavender aromatherapy or a few drops on your pillow can promote relaxation.

Small Burns and Cuts:

Aloe Vera: Apply aloe vera gel to soothe burns and promote healing.

Honey: Honey has antibacterial properties and can be applied to cuts and wounds.

Stress and Anxiety:

Exercise: Regular physical activity can reduce stress and anxiety.

Meditation and Yoga: These practices can help you relax and manage stress.

Lavender or Chamomile Tea: These herbal teas may have a calming effect.

Sore Throat:

Salt Water Gargle: Gargling with warm salt water can relieve a sore throat.

Marshmallow Root Tea: Marshmallow root tea can help soothe throat irritation.

Nausea:

Ginger: Ginger candies, ginger tea, or ginger capsules can help with nausea.

Peppermint: Peppermint tea or candies may also help alleviate nausea.

Constipation:

Fiber-Rich Foods: Eating foods like prunes, bran, and beans can promote regular bowel movements.

Hydration: Staying well-hydrated is essential for preventing constipation.

Acne:

Tea Tree Oil: Applying diluted tea tree oil to acne-prone areas may help reduce breakouts.

Honey and Cinnamon Mask: Mixing honey and cinnamon into a paste and applying it as a mask can be beneficial for some.

#healthy living #health and wellness #health #wellness #healthy lifestyle #supplements #health is wealth

257 notes · View notes

levilxvr · 9 months

Text

levi taking care of you when you’re sick🫶

when you wake up one morning with the sniffles he can already sense something coming up. Lately the weathers been cold and it seems your sinuses aren’t very pleased.

“stay here, I’m gonna make you some tea.” he kisses your heated forehead, making a mental note to get a cold towel as well before he slides out of bed. Minutes later he returns with herbal tea for your throat, helping you sit up with a hand resting on your back as you sip the bitter liquid.

He’ll take leave to stay in with you the whole day and the next few days if need be. Work can wait, because no matter what you’re his first priority. Even if you say it’s fine he’ll insist on hanging out in bed with you, bringing his stack of papers onto the mattress if he’s got pressing deadlines to meet.

Get ready for lots of cuddles as well- levi’s immune game is strong and he rarely gets sick, so a silly little flu ain’t gonna stop him from snuggling into your side for hours. If you’re having a fever he doesn’t care either. Even if it’s too warm he won’t pull away cuz he knows you need his comfort. He scratches your head gently when you get drowsy, rambles about whatever’s on his mind and hands you tissues whenever you need. This man will be checking on you every minute, asking if you’re okay or in pain or anything.

alright look, he gives you the best baths when you’re sick. He always does, but when your body is weak and your head is heavy levi always prepares his special bath concoction to help rejuvenate your body a little. It’s a mixture of lavender and oregano oil, along with some epson salt. He’ll gladly join in if you want him to, helping you to wash your hair and all.

Overall being sick sucks but levi makes it better <3

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi x reader fluff

309 notes · View notes

inkstainedpages · 3 months

Text

‧₊˚✧[𝘈𝘬𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘸𝘢 𝘙𝘺𝘶𝘶𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘦 𝘹 𝘈𝘍𝘈𝘉 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳]✧˚₊‧

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"(Sweet-Cigarettes after sex)"

00:42 ━━━━●───── 04:48

ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ

𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩,

𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦..੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜!!

...this piece of writing includes;

smut, gentle sex, soft aku, afab reader, established relationship, cuming inside, unprotected sex, 2nd person pov, rushed writing, inspired by sweet by cigarettes after sex

Reminder!!

please be careful whenever participating in sexual activities in real life. Especially if you are a minor and/or are unprepared for pregnancy and the other consequences of messing around. Please make sure to use protection unless you are actually ready, this is a work of fiction.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Warm lighting, lavender scented oil in the air purifier, the curtains, windows, and door shut. Yet a few sounds would leak from your room, the sound of something playing on your tv. Accompanied by a strange muffled noise that became a common occurrence whenever he would visit.

It started off as a few harmful check ups under the excuse of awaiting for your recovery so you can get back to working in the mafia. He was just oh so concerned, after all, you are the only person he sees fit to work alongside him.

When you did get better from that nasty flu, the visits came to a halt. For some time. Until he started insisting to walk you home, accompany you on your walk to ensure your safety. He swore it was just for safety measures and that it meant nothing.

Until he started to stay for some time. Then he would randomly show up with all sorts of excuses. If he wasn't your superior, you would have laughed in his face at how cute he looked trying to hide his face with the back of his hand as he turned his head to the side. Though you couldn't help but feel honored, since not everybody is liked by the black fanged hellhound of the port mafia.

One visit, then another, and then another. Until he came over so often you had lost count. It was odd, how intrigued he was by you. How strange it was, when the hellhound of the port mafia would follow you around like a lost puppy.Following you home, declining your offer to come inside, at first. Though you grew persistent over time. Until he couldn't just keep denying.

And with time spent together came with the formation of a bond. A bond that differed from the one sided rivalry from when the two were younger and under the guise of the same executive. That was years ago. This was different. Far different.

Though you couldn't be bothered to think of all that. Not now, when your mind was so foggy, your vision blurry, head spinning. Not when you struggle to keep your eyes open, having to shut them as you lean onto Akutagawa. Who was laying on your bed, underneath your covers, holding you to stay still as you lay on top of him. His hips rolling softly, the sound of your skin slapping together accompanied by the shifting of the sheets and comforters.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. Taking his cock so well as he thrust into you. He was so gentle that it made you shiver, whimpering into his neck. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, muffling the noises that slipped from your mouth as he kept hitting all those sweet spots that made you see stars.

"𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬- 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵..~"

He whined, pushing deeper into you. The tip of his dick bruising your cervix. Sure, he was gentle and he sure took his time to ease you, but he was hitting so deeply. Making you gasp, biting down on his neck to ground yourself as you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. At this point, you've forgotten of how many orgasms he's made you go through.

He's forgotten about everything else, nothing else crossed his mind but you. He doesn't know why or how you affect him like this so greatly. He prioritizes you, in a way. He can't understand, but he's came to the conclusion that his 'attachment' grew into something more. He should have know he was too deep in when he started to get softer, and be sweet.

Your sweet moans overpowering the volume of your tv as it continued to play the movie you had chosen earlier. You've long forgotten about it, and it wasn't until you felt yet another climax take place that the tv paused the movie and asked;

"are you still watching?"

Of course not. You were too busy riding out your orgasm as he pushed deeper and deeper into you, as deep as he could.Making you shudder and bite down yet again on his neck, leaving a other dark red bruise on his pale skin. He's gonna have to think of how he's gonna cover or hide the hickeys you left on his neck.

Though he couldn't think of that right now. Both of you couldn't think of anything else but each other, and how good it felt. Honestly, at this point, you couldn't think straight and were mindlessly biting and nibbling on his neck. And he wasn't in a better state either. Akutagawa had been whining and mumbling some words you couldn't comprehend, and by the sound of his voice, it seemed pretty emotional.

"..𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥..𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭.. 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦..𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵-"

He mumbled beneath his breath, tripping over his own words as his breath hitched. Getting caught in his throat as he felt himself close. He was close. And he was way too out of it to even think of pulling out. He just kept thrusting into you, pushing deeply inside. Hell, you didn't catch a word he said. His voice fading, nearly inaudible for you. You were too focused chasing after your own high.

Your eyes snapping wide open when he stilled himself, his thrust coming to a pause when he spilled himself inside of you. Spilling his cum deep inside of you. When he finished, he made sure to give a few more thrust, ensuring it got in deeper. He wouldn't let even a drop of his precious seed go to waste. He just couldn't, not when it took off such a large percent of his energy and time..

Akutagawa huffed when he felt some of the sticky white liquid leak out of your hole. Even while he was still inside of your cunt, it sort of frustrated him in a way. He growled by your ear, he snapped his hips forward. Suddenly giving a harsh thrusting, ramming into you. Shoving his cum deeper inside before slowly dragging his length out of you. Making sure to do it slowly while staring into your hazy, half lidded eyes. As if it was a way to tease you. Though he did smirk when he felt you twitch and clench around him as he pulled out completely.

For a moment, it was silent. Just silently staring at eachother. Until you let out a raspy, low chuckle. Smiling up at him as you raised a brow, your eyes were half lidded and glossy.

"𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥?"

Your voice was hoarse, probably from all the moaning and whining. Akutagawa chuckled as well, nodding his head. His lips tug upward into a small smile, he cleared his throat

"𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥."

#x reader #afab reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd akutagawa #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa smut #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke smut #inkstainedpages

78 notes · View notes

eviesaurusrex · 2 years

Text

ꜱɪᴄᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇꜱ | ʜ. ꜱᴛʏʟᴇꜱ

GIFs not mine!

Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: Harry is down with the flu and had to cancel his remaining L.A. shows. Seeking comfort and reassurance that this was the right call, he FaceTimes his girlfriend YN, who is filming her recent movie on the opposite side of the country, and decides to surprise her sick and hard-working boyfriend.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: Harry being insecure and anxious about his decision, feeling bad about said decision, sick!Harry, but overall fluffy fluffness!

author’s note: I’m so sorry for our hard working man (and all the fans who had tickets), but glad that he prioritizes his health even though it sucks. But his health is more important, people. Please keep that in mind. And yes, I just had to write this. Deal with it <3

;

He didn’t need to wait long for her to accept the FaceTime call—probably already anticipating it after she surely had read the headline of him canceling his remaining L.A. shows. It instantly soothed him as her pretty face appeared on his phone’s screen, though it would be even better if she were right next to him. Harry would never be shy about admitting that he loved when YN took care of him. She just knew the tricks and quirks to make him feel better within hours.

“Hey, pretty woman,” he greeted her with his scratchy voice, sniffling a bit and wrapping himself tighter in the lavender robe he had stolen from YN’s designated spot in their bathroom. She smiled softly at him, but the singer could see the worry lines deepening at the picture of his sick self. “Hey, love,” she returned and cooed silently. “How is my man doing?” Harry could see her moving around before she plopped down onto the comfy couch he missed every time they weren’t in their New Yorker home.

He shrugged. “Feel like shit,” he mumbled and sighed deeply before it tickled a violent cough out of him. Her brows were even more furrowed after he had calmed himself again. “Oh, love… What did the doctor say?” Harry shrugged again, feeling more miserably about his canceled shows and fans than about himself and that nasty virus. “The flu. Not the other nasty virus sneaking around in the open. So, you don’t have to worry yourself to death, darlin’.” YN cocked a brow now, looking at him expectantly. “I thought we knew each other after three years into this relationship, H,” she chastised him jokingly with a chuckle. “Y’know I’m always worrying myself to death when it comes to you, sweets.”

And it was the truth. Even if Harry wasn’t sick, YN worried for him—when he flew, when he went on stage, when he went out with friends and didn’t text if he needed a ride back home, and returned in the depths of night to demand drunken cuddles. However, the latter was such a rare thing he did that it almost didn’t count. And she worried the most when she wasn’t there to comfort and take care of him because she was across the country or the globe. It hurt somewhere deep down in her heart seeing him like that, seeing him suffering alone, without a helping hand to ensure he would get better in no time.

“Did you have some soup, love? Should I order something and let it bring to you?” She already sat straighter just to do exactly this, but Harry already shook his head slowly. “Jeff brought me some earlier. Left it at the door, rang, and bolted like a thief on the run.” He chuckled lowly before coughing again, worrying YN even more. But she chuckled alongside him to keep their conversation as light as usual. “At least someone who takes care of you. Got ya’self a good pot of tea?” Again, the singer nodded, grabbing the sunflower-yellow mug from its designated spot next to the propped-up phone and taking a huge sip. “Even put honey in’nit, but it doesn’t taste even closely as good as yours, darlin’,” Harry admitted and furrowed his brows. “Did I do something wrong? Used the wrong honey? Wrong tea?”

YN’s heart broke once more at the sound of his helpless tone and his sad puppy eyes, feeling the urge to leave everything behind and fly across the country. She already eyed the calendar on the coffee table in front of her. “Did you use the one in the drawer? Right to the stove?” Harry nodded, a sad expression deepening on his face. “Yeah,” he mumbled, crushed. YN cooed again, trying to soothe his mind. “Maybe you let the tea steep too long, lovie. Give it another try later, yeah?”

He nodded again, letting his hand rake through his soft, now messy curls, and the woman knew that he wanted to ask something, that something was on his mind, continuing to bug him. “What’s wrong, H?” YN sat up again and leaned forward, smartphone in her hand and forearms resting on her knees. Harry threw her a look she knew all too well—she saw it numerous times on his face and hers as well. Self-doubt. Easy as that. “Do you think it was a good idea to cancel the shows?” She already wanted to open her mouth to tell him exactly this, but he continued. “It’s the first time in my entire career, and I feel like I let down my fans, of whom many traveled to L.A. just to see me. I can’t imagine the costs for that—well, I can, numbers-wise—but the… the emotional cost, the excitement, some of them probably took off at work and… and… I just feel like I failed them, YNN.”

Her heart ached even more, and YN had to try to suppress the tears trying to invade her eyes. He was always so hard-working, always trying to meet his fans’ expectations and wishes, consistently delivering—not only in his singing but also in his starting acting career. She was always in wonder and astonishment when witnessing the dedication of her boyfriend, but at some point, his body had to cave.

“Listen to me, my love,” she began and staring at her man’s face through the screen. “It was the only thing you could do, the only responsible decision there was. Not only for you and your health but also the health of Mitch, and Sarah, and Jeff, and all the others involved, not to mention the health of your fans. For many of them, you’re a role model, someone they look up to, and now they see that it’s a responsible move to say, ‘Okay, I’m sick, I’m gonna stay home’ because many people already forgot this essential key even though we went through a pandemic and still living in one. And I don’t wanna start to talk about the good you do for your body right now. I’m actually impressed on how long you two pushed through with all that stress and constant traveling.”

YN had only waited for that moment to occur—but had desperately wished for it to happen when she was back with him on tour or at home, not when she was in the midst of wrapping up a new project.

Harry grew very silent during her rambling, watching her closely, a small smile appearing on his handsome face. “How long have you waited to hold that speech, love?” Now it was YN’s turn to shrug. “Maybe a few months?” Harry started to grin at her bashful smile and blushing cheeks, still not believing his luck of having found her in that small bookshop back in London, where she had fervently tried to get a hold of a Jane Austen novel.

His grin morphed into a tender, loving smile, only reserved for her eyes to witness—and maybe some cameras when they walked the carpet together or were seen on their many dates. Harry just loved to spoil his woman, and if it were time with him she demanded she would get exactly that.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and YN smiled back, resting her chin in her palm. “Anytime, H.” She checked the clock and hummed softly. “Get some rest, sweets, yeah? Check the bathroom cupboard with the towels underneath. There could still be some unopened stuff for your cough. If not, text me, and I’ll let something get to you.” Harry smiled wider and took a sip of tea before watching her intently. “How did I deserve you?” YN grinned at him, cocking her head to one side. “Asking myself the same question, love. But seriously, get some rest. And when I say rest, I mean the full blow of bedtime comfort and something on Netflix or Prime.” The singer saluted playfully. “Yes, ma’am,” he grinned before turning a tad serious again. “Will probably watch one of yours, so I at least can pretend you’re here. Miss you, darlin’.”

The tears tried to spill over again, so YN took a deep breath before answering, not trusting her voice entirely. “Miss you too, Harry. So, so much. But I’m faster back than you think, ‘promise. I love you. So, so, so much. Sleep tight later.” Both softly waved at one another. “Not as much as I love you, sweetheart. Have a good shoot later.” With a soft Thanks and See you later’s, they ended the call, and YN plopped back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling in the lonely, quiet apartment. She knew it was rash and born out of desperation, but she just had to do it.

So, she unlocked her phone again, grinning at the goofy wallpaper Harry and she had taken in front of the Statue of Liberty two years ago and scrolled through her contacts. “Hey, Jenn. I need a massive favor,” she spoke up after her manager had accepted her call.

;

Harry groaned at the feeling of his sore body after waking up from his restless and unsatisfying slumber, and the first thing he did was cough into the crook of his drenched hoodie. He groaned again after he finally could take a fresh breath of air into his constricting lungs and fought his slow way out of bed to shower and change into something not wet.

With half-closed eyes, he walked into the adjacent bathroom, turned on the shower to let it warm up, and shed his clothes and let them pile on the stone floor. He could take care of that later… Or when he felt better, whenever that might be.

He stood rather long under the hot water drizzling down on him like summer rain before Harry could push himself to leave the cozily warm glass cabin and wrap himself in a fluffy towel. Suddenly, a smell wafted into his nose that was clocked before the hot shower, and the scent let him stop in his tracks. It was her perfume—he could name it in a sea of scents if he had to. Blinking, the singer tried to scan the bathroom for the source; maybe he had accidentally sprayed it last night when he searched for the soap dispenser after not turning on the light? Slowly shaking his head, he dried himself and his hair shortly before changing into a new pair of sweatpants, fluffy socks, and a fresh hoodie. Taking out the cough syrup YN had mentioned two days ago, he took the needed dosage and left the bathroom to go downstairs to prepare a fresh batch of tea and maybe something to eat, though he really didn’t feel like it. But he knew what YN would do if she were here.

Harry yawned while slouching down the stairs but stopped at the end of the steps at the sound of used cutlery and boiling water. With growing confusion, the man rounded the corners and was faced with an angel in his kitchen—one of his Pleasing hoodies adorning her body with a pair of sports tights underneath. She hummed along to the tune of the song playing in the background—The Yawning Grave by Lord Huron, her favorite band—while she prepared the can he had used every day since getting sick and had something boiling on the stove. He felt joy rising in him, but the confusion was still very prominent.

Maybe he hallucinated because the fever was too high?

“Is this real, or is this only in my head?” He asked into the room, scaring her in the process of questioning, and with a low shriek and a slight jump, YN turned to him, a hand pressed over her heart. “Stop scaring the living daylight outta me!” She laughed softly as Harry came rushing over to her, grabby hands outstretched and getting a hold of her waist. Pulling her incredibly close to his chest, the man sighed as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her signature scent, which always brought him comfort, and tightening his hold on her. “Whatyadoinhere,” he mumbled, almost inaudible and incomprehensible against her soft skin, his eyes closed, his body finally relaxing.

Her fingers inside his hair tickled a satisfied moan out of him and pushed him to wrap his arms even tighter around YN, not wanting to let her go ever again. Her fingernails scratched gently along his scalp, just the way he liked, and he could feel her soft lips peppering kisses over the reachable part of his head. “I wanted to come home next week anyway, so we pushed a bit through the last couple of scenes, and Jenn got me the first available flight. Couldn’t let you be on your own. My heart almost broke when I saw you slouching around during that FaceTime, feeling miserable enough not to deal with taking care of yourself. So, that’s my job from now on again, ‘kay?” More gentle kisses followed her words, and Harry had never felt this loved and cherished. “A goddess and godsend,” he mumbled again against her skin and let her pull his face up so she could face him and see how he held up so far.

YN’s palm laid softly against his forehead—the contact alone almost made him swoon on the spot after so many weeks and months without her—and he watched her expressions, memorizing every single muscle movement all over again. “At least your fever is not too high. The world will look much better after a bowl of fresh soup and a fresh batch of tea.” She smiled up at him before pulling him at his neck down to her, pushing herself on her tiptoes, and softly kissing his warm cheeks one after the other. The tip of his nose was the last part accepting the tender peck of her lips.

She turned again to stir in the boiling pot, and Harry followed her like a puppy, wrapping his arms around her body again and pressing his face against her shoulder. “You won’t let go anytime soon, aren’t ya?” YN smiled a smile full of contentment as she added the noodles to the chicken broth and removed the tea bags from the pot to add the perfect amount of honey. He only shook his head but watched her doings with eagle eyes, furrowing his brows as she prepped him a mug and let him take it. “It’s just how I made it,” he murmured and taking a sip, closing his eyes, and humming softly. Just how he loved it. “Maybe it tasted different because I have a special ingredient, H,” YN chuckled and prepped two bowls of hot soup for them to enjoy as a late breakfast and an early lunch. “Tell me, please. Don’t wanna feel so helpless anymore if you’re not here, and I need your tea,” he pleaded with her, and the gorgeous woman turned in his arm, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “It’s cheesy but super easy.” Her smile made him almost feel healthy again. “I put an ounce of love into it. It’s what my grandma always told me. Everything tastes better when a loved one makes it for you.”

Almost on the verge of crying, Harry put his mug to the side and cupped her cheek, his other arm still tightly wrapped around her middle. “I don’t deserve you, my darling love,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her forehead, not wanting to risk infecting her as well. YN continued to comb through his hair and rolled her eyes. “How often do I need to tell you that you, Harry Edward Styles, deserve the freaking fucking world?” He shrugged gently before nodding in the direction of the living room. “Cuddle with me, and I may be convinced of it this time,” he smiled, and with one last look, YN covered their soups and took the pot of tea with her. Harry already threw himself onto the couch, waiting impatiently for her to claim her spot, but first, she covered him with their favorite fluffy blanket. She made sure that he was perfectly covered before finally crawling underneath it as well and pressing her body against his.

“Come here, love,” she whispered invitingly, and Harry let his head heavily rest on her chest, his ear over her soothing heartbeat. He closed his eyes tiredly as she started to stroke through his hair again, scratching his scalp and neck, rubbing over his back. YN began to talk in a mumbling voice about everything and anything until she felt him slip back into slumber he definitely needed the most.

;

This got cheesier than anticipated, but this was born entirely from my need for self-indulgence, so we will live with it. Hope y’all enjoyed it! <3 As usual: comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated

taglist: @onecrazydirectioner @nyctophilic0vitnir

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x female reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x actress!reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #sick!harry #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

2K notes · View notes

staytinyville · 11 months

Text

Stay Alive (21)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N BETA READ @seoul9711 YALL. My bad for missing an update! I'm visiting family this week so it's been an occupied time for me. However because I've been starting to want to write a lot of other things, I might start changing the updates. Nothing too large. I think I'm going to do Monday's and Thursday updates.

Your day started with you taking care of Namjoon like normal. You had taken to making sure the man had his skin moisturized and taken care of. By the looks of it, it seemed to have been a while since the last time new wounds had formed over his skin which brought you some kind of relief.

As you lightly skimmed over his healing wounds, you sighed. “Joon, you said the company uses your abilities to make the medicine.” You spoke up. “I'm assuming yours has to do with your skin.” You told him.

“My dragon scales are some of the most powerful things known in my world.” Namjoon began. “Much like Yoongi's blood, it can heal just about anything if mixed correctly with other medicinal ingredients.” He looked down, sighing to himself. “HYBE uses them for burn ointment.”

Your hand fell from his back, a sharp gasp falling from your lips. “This is abuse Namjoon!” You cried out. “It's inhumane.”

“Everyone knows that Little one.” He turned around, moving you to stand between his legs. “But we haven't found a way out yet.” He softly told you.

“Then I'll go to the police.” You shook your head, sniffling as your nose began to get stuffed. Your fingers moved up to his shoulders, lightly touching his skin.

“That involves gathering evidence.�� Namjoon told you. “That's too dangerous.”

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you to his chest. You fell over into his lap, pressing your cheek to his chest. “Just please, leave it to us and we'll figure it out.”

“I want to help you, Joon.” You softly pouted.

“I know you do.” Namjoon placed his head atop yours, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. You could feel him start to warm up, causing you to shift closer to the warmth. “And that means more to me than you'll ever know.”

As his body brought a soothing feeling down your spine, you began to think about the others and what they must suffer from. You weren’t in charge of them to know the kind of tests they had to go through; Jungkook was the only one you knew about.

You knew he had to spit into a cup, causing dry mouth for him often. It wasn’t as extreme as Namjoon but you knew it was still bothersome to have dry mouth.

“The tests Jungkook has to do.” You pulled back to look at Namjoon. “What do they use his saliva for?”

Namjoon hummed, moving along his bed with you in his lap. He made himself comfortable along the pillows. You moved around for a bit, finding the perfect place to lay back. You had settled for turning around in his lap, back to his chest.

“Jungkook is a werewolf, as you know.” He started. “His saliva has healing properties for superficial injuries. It can heal any kind of penetrative wound over the skin. They make another cream with it.” He told you.

“And the others?” You asked quietly, pulling your knees closer.

Namjoon felt your emotions change into something akin to depression. So he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you closer to him. You suddenly smelled the most soothing aroma ever. It calmed you down immediately, almost like lavender would. It didn’t take away from your worry but you felt relaxed.

“Jin is an elf, which means he has a long life span. They take his DNA for patients with disabilities caused by old age.” Namjoon explained.

“What do they take?” You asked.

“His blood.” You purse your lips, dropping your shoulders.

“Jimin has this water resistant substance on his body, it makes him aware of his surroundings in water. They take it off him for medication having to do with water in the lung: Bronchitis, pneumonia, the flu.” The man continued. “ Yoongi, has venom that mixes with blood to cause some kind of reaction.”

You remembered Twilight when Namjoon talked about venom. “Is that what is used to turn people into vampires?” You asked.

“Yes.” Namjoon chuckled at your question. “They create blood related medicines with it.”

The boys were all kinds of magical creatures that you read about in books. They had their own powers and abilities. While you really wanted to learn all about them, you knew you wouldn’t be able to with them trapped in this hell.

You sighed to yourself, thinking about how you applied to this job. You should have taken notice of all the red flags. The fact that you didn’t know what they focused on was probably the biggest one. And yet here you still were–blinded by wanting a job to keep you afloat.

You knew if you hadn’t taken the chance you wouldn’t have met the boys. And they would probably still be stuck here for another 10 years. You were going to try your best at taking them out; they deserved so much more.

“What about Taehyung and Hobi?” You turned to look at him.

“Taehyung has this ability where he can manipulate his magical energy. They extract it from him in order to create the medicine, it's like an activator.”

Your first thought was if Taehyung was the only faerie having to struggle with that. You remembered how he had burst into Yoongi’s room talking about how he exploded his energy and gave himself the gash. You knew you had seen it.

“Are there more faeries here?” You asked.

“I think there's one more. Her name is Hanni, she's just a child.” Namjoon sighed.

You knew Namjoon cared about more than just the seven boys. He was the first patient to be kidnapped. So he knew much more than anyone else. Seeing all those other people be brought in, must have been painful for him.

“Hobi is a different case. He's more of a just-in-case type deal. His magic has the ability to put anyone to sleep as well as hypnotize and cast spells. He can also heal people.” Namjoon continued.

“Can all of you just heal people?” You snorted.

“Hobi's healing is a lot more helpful than ours. I mean, I have to rip my skin off and Yoongi has to give blood. It's easier for him.” He shrugged.

“I understand.” You nodded. “Hobi and Taehyung seem like very powerful people.”

“They were one of the first creatures to ever be created. So they tend to have the most magical energy.” Namjoon explained. “Behind dragons.” He added a teasing smile on his face.

“Are you bragging?” You laughed.

“No, in my word.” Namjoon looked offended. “Dragons are the oldest living creatures in my entire world.”

“Sounds believable.” You giggled, leaning further against his chest.

There was a silence that made you comfortable. You could feel Namjoon’s chest rising and falling with each breath he took. If the scent you had smelled earlier hadn’t already relaxed you, Namjoon’s breathing would have. His fingers were splayed out on your tummy, his thumb rubbing against you.

He froze for a few seconds before going back to paying you attention. “I'll see you later, Kook wants attention.” He patted your thigh, making you move off him.

You looked at him skeptically, turning on your knees. “How do you know?”

“Magic.” He grinned. “I'll tell you later.”

He walked you to his door, giving you a pat on the head as you walked out. You giggled, setting into the hallway without looking. As your body passed Namjoon’s door, you quickly bumped into someone making you look up.

“I'm sorry.” You told them man.

“It's alright.” He gave you a smile that made you uneasy. “You're the new nurse.”

“Yes.” You told him, looking down to the floor.

“Jungkook's.” He looked up at the door you had walked out of. “And Namjoon's, I see.”

“Yes. Excuse me, I should be going now.” You quickly said, wanting to get away from the man.

“Of course.” He told you. “Have a nice day.” He waved you off as you fast walked to Jungkook’s room.

With how disturbed you were feeling, Namjoon was quick to step out into the hall. His eyebrows pinched together in anger when they landed on Kyong staring at you. When Jungkook’s door opened and you had disappeared, Kyong turned to the man.

“Hello, Namjoon. How are you today?” Kyong asked the man.

“What do you want Kyong?” He asked, turning his nose up.

“Just visiting.” He shrugged. “Haven't been in such a long time.” He placed his hands into his pockets, looking back down the hall. “Do be careful with that nurse.” He hummed. “She seems to be hiding something.”

Namjoon almost growled at the look Kyong gave him. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that Kyong was suspicious of you. However he didn’t want the man to know that you were special to them.

“Wouldn't want anything to happen to her.”

Series Masterlist

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg , @singukieee , @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @k-p0p-4ever , @shadowyjellyfishfest , @forestsquirrel , @juju-227592 , @alienchickenpoop , @dreamerwasfound , @afangirl91 , @psiphidragon , @puppyminnnie , @girl-nahh , @shyloh-the-cornsnake , @oemmi2005 , @ollyoxenfrees , @whynotlarene , @beeltsumu , @cryingpages , @milopenne , @belikejk , @bts-4-life-ot7 , @woozixo, @serveruslovebot ,

316 notes · View notes

winxanity-ii · 5 months

Text

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 05 Chapter 05 | awakening force⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The thrill of your newfound power lingered as you walked home. A shiver danced down your spine—a delicious mix of fear and exhilaration.

You were no longer just Y/N. You were something more, something... powerful.

Reaching your house, the murmur of conversation drifted from the kitchen.

Inside, you found your mom chatting with a couple perched at the table—Hiro and Shisuki, your parents' old high school friends.

You vaguely remembered them stopping by a few weeks ago to celebrate your dad's promotion.

Hiro, tall and tan with a shock of lime-green hair and light brown eyes, flashed a friendly grin. Shisuki, his wife, offered a wan smile. She was pale and slender, her lavender hair mirroring the color of her eyes.

You noticed something subtly off about them. You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

Your mom, ever watchful, intercepted you before you could linger. "Y/N! There you are, sweetie. Let me see those hands." Her voice held a familiar edge of worry as she inspected the scrapes from your encounter with Bakugo.

Before you could protest, she whisked you upstairs, muttering about "rough-housing" and "being careful."

With a sigh, you resigned yourself to a quick bath. Wrapping a towel around your head, you picked up a rag and began drying your hair as your mom hurried downstairs, called upon by your dad to help entertain the guests while dinner simmered.

Alone in your room, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor, you replayed the scene in your mind.

The memory of your helpless rage, the shove that sent Bakugo sprawling— it all felt distant now, overshadowed by the chilling realization of what happened next.

The way Bakugo crumpled, his whimpers replaced by a strange, terrified silence—it was like you'd flicked a switch, taking control of him not with your body, but with your will.

Suddenly, the image in your mind flickered. Bakugo's tear-streaked face contorted, morphing into an older visage. Golden-brown eyes, framed by a mess of unruly blond hair, stared up at you with an unsettling intensity. A wide, toothy grin stretched across his face, revealing a chipped canine tooth.

The boy—no, the young man—held a chainsaw in one hand, the whirring blade a constant hum against the silence. Yet, despite the weapon and the wildness in his eyes, the most unsettling aspect was the way he looked at you.

It wasn't just fear or submission; it was a kind of god-worship, a bizarre adoration that promised nothing but utter obedience.

The distorted voice echoed in your mind, the words spoken with a reverence that bordered on obsession. "You... have control..."

You blinked, the mental image dissolving like smoke. Your heart hammered against your ribs, the echo of the phantom voice lingering in your ears.

The room seemed to vibrate with your nervous energy. You grabbed a stray pillow, squeezing it until your knuckles turned white.

This power... it was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit that promised both dominion and danger.

The memory of Bakugo's terrified face warred with the strange, exhilarated feeling of controlling the distorted figure in your mind. It felt wrong, alien, yet strangely exhilarating.

You practiced the word in your mind, a mantra of your newfound power: "Control." The word resonated within you, a dark promise of possibilities. Curiosity gnawed at you. Could you do it again?

Glancing out the window, you saw a familiar sight—a plump robin perched on the sill, its head tilted inquisitively.

This little visitor often graced your window ledge, a welcome distraction from the monotony of your days.

Today, however, it served a different purpose. It was a test subject, a pawn in the game you were starting to play with your own abilities.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you pushed the window open a fraction. The robin cocked its head again, then with a bold chirp, hopped inside.

It fluttered around the room for a moment, its bright red breast a splash of color against the now-beige walls (you utterly despised the pretty-pink-princess aesthetic and threw an absolute fit until it was gone).

A cruel amusement bubbled within you.

This was your domain now, and this little creature was subject to your will.

You focused your mind, picturing the bird in your control. "Fly." You willed the bird to take flight.

It obeyed instantly, launching itself from the floor in a flurry of feathers. You guided it through the air with your thoughts, a puppeteer manipulating its movements.

The bird performed aerial flips, swooped low to the ground, then ascended again in dizzying spirals.

A giddy smile stretched across your face as you willed the robin to perform another daring maneuver. It swooped low to the ground, skimming the throw rug with its wings before launching into a spectacular corkscrew climb.

You felt a surge of exhilaration, a sense of power you'd never known before.

This—this was your Quirk!

Suddenly, the urge to share your newfound ability with your parents overwhelmed you.

You bolted for the stairs, the excited chirp of the robin echoing in your wake. Reaching the top of the stairs, you paused.

Your parents were in the living room, your mom topping off two glasses of whiskey for their guests.

"So, how's Y/N doing these days? Anything new?" you heard Hiro ask, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

"Oh, you know," Wino replied, his tone dismissive. "Same old, same old. Still no sign of a Quirk manifesting."

A bitter taste filled your mouth.

Here you were, bursting with the revelation of your newfound power, only to be dismissed by your own father.

Hiro chuckled, the sound sharp and unpleasant. "Poor kid. Stuck being Quirkless in a world like this. Rough luck."

Your father laughed along, a hollow sound that grated on your nerves.

Mei, ever perceptive, picked up on the shift in the conversation. "Dinner will be ready soon," she announced, her voice laced with annoyance. "Wino, please try not to discuss such sensitive topics about our daughter while I'm here." With a huff, she turned and stalked back towards the kitchen.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

You stood frozen on the stairs, the joy of your discovery replaced by a cold anger. They didn't believe in you.

They pitied you.

You stared at them, a cold emptiness settling in your chest. Their flippant dismissal of your prior Quirklessness, the way they treated it like a minor inconvenience, stung more than you cared to admit.

Without a word, you turned and retreated back up the stairs, the robin fluttering after you with a soft chirp.

Reaching your room, you sank onto the bed, the bird landing gently on your shoulder. Staring down at the bird, a flicker of defiance sparked in your eyes.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You reached out a hand, gently rubbing its soft feathers. Focusing on the bird, you willed it to fly away. "Fly," you whispered the order once more.

The robin launched itself into the air, soaring effortlessly around your room. A surge of satisfaction coursed through you. You could do it again.

You were powerful.

For the next hour, you spent time honing your newfound ability. It was like playing a video game, but with a living creature as your avatar.

You sent the bird on dizzying spirals, weaving through furniture and dodging obstacles with practiced ease. But as minutes turned into an hour, the thrill began to wane.

The bird, once curious, now fluttered erratically, its tiny body exhausted by your relentless commands.

You released your control, and with a tired chirp, the robin landed on your outstretched finger. You stroked its soft feathers, a sense of boredom replacing your amusement.

A different idea took root. You remembered the innate feeling that nearly swallowed you as you willed Bakugo under your control.

With a deep breath, you focused on the bird, visualizing a pressure building within its tiny body. Staring intently at the robin, you willed that invisible force to constrict its organs.

The bird froze, its bright eyes filled with sudden fear. You broke eye contact and released the pressure. It chirped weakly, its body trembling.

You hadn't seen any outside physical harm, but the raw terror in the bird's eyes was enough.

The robin let out a relieved chirp and took shook its feathers, before looking up at you, waiting for its next command.

As the bird sat before you, a surge of exhilaration washed over you.

You hadn't just controlled something; you'd inflicted pain, a mere taste of the power you now wielded.

A chilling realization settled in your stomach—this wasn't just dominance; it was manipulation on a terrifying level.

Suddenly, a familiar voice jolted you from your introspection. "Y/N! Dinner's ready, honey!" It was your mother's voice, laced with a warmth that seemed to pierce the fog of darkness clouding your mind.

With a sigh that carried the weight of the world, you sat the bird down and pushed yourself off the bed, heading downstairs. Every step felt heavy, a chore rather than a movement.

As you reached the bottom stair, something strange caught your attention.

It was a smell. Not unpleasant, but amplified.

Your mom's familiar scent of lavender soap and cinnamon rolls mingled with the sharp tang of cleaning supplies. But these were just base notes. A new layer of perception had been added.

You could smell everything with a startling clarity.

Your father's cologne, a cloying mix of citrus and musk, suddenly seemed overpowering.

Shisuki's perfume was a sickly sweet floral that made your stomach churn. Hiro's scent was worse—a combination of stale beer and something vaguely acrid, like sweat that hadn't quite dried.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you came to a screeching halt. The world smelled different, and not necessarily in a good way.

Then came sight.

You recognized the scene unfolding before you—your mother setting dishes, your father laughing with a man by the TV. But a chilling disconnect settled in your gut.

You knew who these people were supposed to be—your parents and their friends, Hiro and Shisuki. Yet, their appearances seemed...wrong.

Your mother turned, her smile widening at the sight of you. "There you are, sweetie! Come sit down, dinner's ready." She gestured towards the table, her familiar voice a grounding presence amidst the sensory overload.

You shuffled forward, eyes glued to the couple beside your parents.

Hiro, you vaguely remembered, was tall and tan with brown eyes and lime green hair. Shisuki, his wife, was pale and slender and had hair the color of lavender with matching eyes.

But staring at them now, their features seemed blurry, their colors muted. Like someone had smeared their image with dirty fingers.

You tried to focus, to etch their appearances into your memory. But the harder you concentrated, the more their forms dissolved, details slipping through your grasp like sand through your fingers.

Panic clawed at your throat. What was happening? Why couldn't you remember their faces?

A sudden realization dawned on you. The heightened sense of smell came at a cost. You could now only distinguish people by their scent, but your ability to differentiate faces seemed to have dulled.

It was a strange trade-off, one that mirrored how a dog identifies others through scent.

You had gained a quirk, yes, but it came with a price—quickly, you darted your eyes down to your plate, unable to bear looking at the distorted couple any longer. But even that small movement seemed to draw attention.

"Honey, is everything alright?" Mei's voice filled the room, laced with concern.

You wanted to scream, to blurt out your questions: Were those really Hiro and Shisuki? Was your mind playing tricks on you? But the words wouldn't come. The fear was paralyzing.

Stealing another glance at the couple before forcing your eyes back to your plate, you mumbled, "I don't feel very hungry anymore."

Your mother's eyes widened significantly, a hint of worry flickering across her face. "Oh, sweetie," she began, her voice taking on that fretful tone you knew all too well. "Is there something wrong? Maybe you don't like what I made? I could fix you something else—"

Before she could launch into a full-blown worry spiral, your father cut in. "Y/N," he started, his voice heavy with irritation, "stop acting childish and just eat your dinner."

The room fell silent.

You felt a prickle of defiance rise within you, but it was quickly squashed by the overwhelming confusion and fear.

You stared up blankly at your father, then reached across the table for your water glass, taking a slow sip before setting it back down with a clink.

"You know what—" your father started, his voice rising in anger.

But before he could explode, Shisuki interjected, her voice firm but strangely calm. "Wino," she said, clearing her throat slightly, "why don't you take a breather? Maybe go outside for a smoke or something?"

A beat of silence followed, then Hiro spoke up, his voice warm and friendly. "Yeah, man. Take twenty. We'll keep an eye on things."

With a heavy sigh, and a final glare in your direction, your father pushed himself away from the table. "Fine," he grumbled. "But someone's gotta go get some dessert. There's nothing decent in this house."

Without waiting for a response, he stormed out, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, the air crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before.

Shisuki, with a cruel edge creeping into her previously saccharine voice, leaned towards your mother and remarked, "Honestly, I don't know how you two deal with it, Mei. All that screaming and tantrums—it's no wonder people are rethinking having kids these days. It honestly makes us so grateful we don't have to deal with any of that with Yumi."

Hiro, previously sporting a smug smirk, let out a bark of laughter that grated on your nerves. "Yeah, Shisuki's right. Yumi's such a sweet, well-adjusted child. Always top of her class, never a complaint," he chimed in, his voice laced with a smugness that turned your stomach. "Y/N? She's a walking advertisement for abstinence if I ever saw one."

The words struck you like a physical blow. Your breath hitched, and a hot ember of anger ignited in your chest, growing with each passing insult.

You clenched your fists so tightly your nails dug into your palms, but it wasn't enough to contain the surge of power that threatened to erupt from within.

Your mother, bless her heart, attempted a feeble defense. "She's just going through a tough phase, that's all," she stammered, her voice wavering. "She'll grow out of it."

Shisuki scoffed, the sound harsh and dismissive. "Oh, honey, this is more than just a phase," she condescended, her eyes flickering towards you with a cold, calculating gleam. "What you need to do is take her to a professional. There are specialists who can deal with these...issues." Her voice dripped with a false sympathy that made your skin crawl. "After all, I am a child psychologist. I've seen my fair share of troubled youngsters."

Wino's absence hung heavy in the air, his departure emboldening the couple like vultures sensing weakness. They felt free to dissect you like a lab rat, their words slicing deeper with each cruel pronouncement.

Mei, clearly struggling, could only stammer a weak response, overwhelmed by their condescending assault.

Then, a horrifying realization dawned on you. They weren't just talking about you—they pitied your parents for having you, while in the same breath, celebrating their own perfect child.

A dangerous glint flickered in your eyes, mirroring the growing inferno within your chest. The memory of Bakugo's compliance surfaced, a chillingly sweet reminder of your newfound power; the image of the robin, tweeting in alarm, hapless and in your mercy.

For a terrifying split second, the world seemed to blink. Shisuki was crumpled sideways, her head lolling at an unnatural angle as crimson bloom spread across her once-pristine white blouse, a silent scream trapped behind her lips.

Hiro slumped forward, his chair clattered onto the floor, eyes wide with terror as a similar stain blossomed on his lime-green shirt. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, a sickening counterpoint to their choked gasps and desperate clawing at empty air.

Their bodies convulsed into a grotesque form of flesh and bones, their lives draining away before your very eyes.

The image was so vivid, so real, that you almost choked on a gasp. Your breath hitched, the taste of iron flooding your mouth. But before you could succumb to the darkness, a flicker of self-preservation sparked within you.

No, they won't get the better of you.

With a deep breath, you wrestled the power back in, forcing it down into the churning depths of your being.

Slamming your fork down on the table, the harsh clang echoed through the room, effectively halting the conversation. All eyes turned to you, surprise etched on their faces.

"I'm not hungry anymore," you declared, your voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor running through you. "Good night." Without waiting for a response, you pushed yourself away from the table and headed towards the stairs.

"Honey, wait!" your mother called after you, her voice laced with concern. "Are you sure you're alright? Maybe I can make you a sandwich..."

You paused on the bottom step, the sound of her fretting already starting to grate on your nerves. "No, really, I'm fine," you said, forcing a smile. "Thanks anyway."

As you ascended the stairs, you could hear your mother's voice trailing behind you, a mixture of concern and indecision.

Reaching your door, you spared a final glance back at the scene unfolding downstairs. Shisuki and Hiro were engrossed in conversation again, their faces devoid of any worry about your abrupt departure.

The moment you were out of sight, however, the conversation shifted. Their voices, though lowered, were still audible.

"Honestly," Hiro scoffed, "what a useless child. Quirkless and a constant burden."

Your mother gasped, a sound of wounded pride. "Hiro!" she protested. "That's not fair. And besides, Wino and I are Quirkless too, remember?"

Shisuki, her voice dripping with condescension once again, waved her off dismissively. "Darling, at least you two contribute to society. Your husband's a decent accountant, and you tutor those college kids on the side. But what good is that girl? She's a walking black hole of wasted potential. Honestly, she'd probably be better off in some kind of... well, you know."

Their words hung heavy in the air, the unspoken implication a sledgehammer blow to your already fragile ego.

Your hand instinctively closed around the doorknob, knuckles turning white. A cold fury burned in your gut, fueled by their callous disregard for your feelings.

As the last of their conversation faded away, you finally closed the door, the sound a small act of defiance.

Slumping against the cool wood, you slid down to the floor, knees pulled tight to your chest. Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palm until a crescent moon of pain bloomed.

The heat in your chest bubbled over, a volcanic rage threatening to erupt. Your body trembled, wracked with a potent mix of anger and fear.

Flashes of the power you wielded, the intoxicating satisfaction of controlling Bakugo and toying with the bird, looped through your mind like a cruel highlight reel.

"I...need it," you muttered, the words barely a whisper. The urge to unleash that power, to silence the voices that taunted and belittled you, was overwhelming.

But then, a soft chirp pierced the storm raging within you. You glanced up to see the robin perched on your desk, its head cocked inquisitively.

The sight of the small creature, so full of life and innocence, was a much-needed anchor.

Taking a shaky breath, you pushed yourself to your feet, legs wobbly like a newborn foal.

Stumbling towards the bird, you reached out a hand. It chirped again, a single, questioning note, before hopping onto your outstretched palm.

Walking over to the window, bathed in the soft glow of the twilight sky, you gently stroked the bird's head. Below, you could see your parents saying their goodbyes to Shisuki and Hiro.

Their laughter, strained and forced, grated on your nerves.

Eyes going blank, you entered a state of intense focus. The world narrowed, the air crackling with invisible energy. Walking back to your bed, the small bird remained motionless on your finger.

You settled against the pillows, propping yourself up for a better view. "Fly." With a chirp, the bird nestled in your hand took flight around your room once again. Its tiny wings beat a silent rhythm as it zipped and zagged.

With a sigh, you dropped your hands, severing the mental connection.

Well, kind of.

The moment the bird was outside of your window, a harsh caw ripped through the air.

"Caw!" You recognized it instantly—the hunting call of the large falcon that had been terrorizing the smaller birds lately.

Right on cue, a blur of feathered fury streaked into view, diving for its prey

Just as the falcon was about to snatch the smaller bird in its talons, you clenched your fists, focusing your power inwards. It was a forceful contraction, like crumpling a piece of paper with your mind.

Staring intently at your clenched fist, you imagined the falcon instead. You envisioned every detail, its sharp beak, powerful wings, and piercing eyes.

Then, with a flick of your wrist, you imagined it crushed, its body crumpled like the paper you'd envisioned earlier.

A beat later, a sickening thud echoed from outside, followed by a strangled cry.

You scrambled to your window, flinging it open despite the cool night air. Below, on the sidewalk in front of your house, a gruesome scene unfolded.

Shisuki and Hiro, caught completely off guard, stood frozen in shock. Blood splattered across their clothes, a horrifying reminder of the falcon that lay lifeless at their feet, its body mangled beyond recognition.

You stared, the image searing itself into your memory. A wave of apathy, as familiar as an old friend, washed over you.

The dream, the impossible dream, of a life with Pochita—a family built on fear and adoration, flickered through your mind.

Even if you'd been devoured by Chainsaw Man himself, even if you'd been granted a twisted rebirth in that blood-soaked world, the machinations would have continued.

Schemes and plots would have brewed in the dark corners of your mind, always focused on the same objective: eliminating the blonde parasite, Denji, and securing your place at Pochita's side.

But here, in this mundane reality, such grand ambitions felt pointless.

With a sigh that carried the weight of extinguished dreams, you slumped back against the pillows. The power you possessed was a burden, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked within you.

Maybe, you thought with a flicker of morbid curiosity, there was a way to use it for good.

But for now, the allure of apathy was far too strong to resist. You closed your eyes, the image of the lifeless falcon and the horrified faces of Shisuki and Hiro swirling behind your eyelids.

The future is now stretched before you, an uncertain path riddled with both possibilities and perils.

Would you become a conqueror, wielding your power for dominion? Or could you learn to control not just others, but yourself?

Who knows? But there one thing you do know...

The game had just begun, and the choice was yours.

A/N: Ahh, denji my bby 😭❤️

63 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 9 months

Text

Shelter

IT'S FINALLY DONE!

A request from MONTHS ago from the lovely, the talented, the supreme Lavender fan @dundienominee who wanted some QZ era Joel angst that included a few specifics. I thought you'd sent an ask but I think it was just one of the millions of DMs lol

So here it is! A NON-CANON Lavender one shot, where Joel and Doc are stuck together when FEDRA puts the QZ on lockdown.

I hope this is what you're looking for, love!!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender (can be read independently with the understanding that Joel and Reader are exes and Reader also dated Tommy in the QZ.)

Warnings: SMUT!, Results of canon-typical violence, infidelity (not on each other). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 8.4k

August, 2017

Joel had been right.

That wasn’t a fact he particularly appreciated in that moment. He’d rather have been right and not shot. He’d rather have been wrong, for that matter, even if you’d be bound and fucking determined to hold it over him for the next who knows how fucking long.

But no, he had to be right and shot.

Still, better than another alternative.

You shot. You hurt. That was the worst possible outcome.

Well, maybe not the worst. That would be you dead.

Joel couldn’t think about that.

“Shit,” you swore, the sound of FEDRA around the next corner.

“There,” Joel said through gritted teeth, nodding toward a pile of junk.

“Right,” you said, pulling him along toward it, your shoulder tucked into his underarm. You pulled him down to the ground just as a dozen or so FEDRA guards ran past, armed to the teeth, guns drawn. Joel fought to keep quiet, breathe silently through the pain, until he couldn’t hear them anymore. You looked at him. There was blood on your cheek. “Should we wait? Or do you think we’re good to move?”

“So now you want to listen to me?” He asked sarcastically. You glared at him. He ignored it. “Should be alright now, doubt more troops will be headin’ that way from here.”

You helped him to his feet and he leaned against you again, trying to ignore the way his body seemed to be hyperaware of everywhere you touched him. You started walking.

“I’m really sorry, Joel,” you said, sounding a little breathless, as you started getting close to his apartment. “I really thought it would be alright…”

“Maybe fuckin’ listen to me next time,” he managed through the pain. “Might not be a damn doctor but I do know about shit like this…”

“I know,” you said quietly.

Joel let the subject drop.

The two of you had gone to the absolute shittiest part of the QZ to run medication to a boy there who had been in the clinic just a few days earlier. You’d gone on a special trip outside the QZ for it. You had explained it all to Joel and Tess, of course, but he didn’t really get it. All he knew was there was a four-year-old boy who needed some drug urgently.

You just hadn’t bothered to explain where that drug needed to be taken until you, Joel and Tess made it back to the QZ.

“No,” Joel had shaken his head. “No fuckin’ way…”

“He’s going to die,” you said. “He has the flu, he’s already showing signs of complications, if he doesn’t get help it will kill him, I need…”

“No.”

“Fine,” you snapped. “I’ll go on my own.”

You turned to leave.

“No the fuck you won’t,” Joel grabbed your wrist, yanking you harshly alongside him. “Gonna just get yourself fuckin’ killed…”

“Fuck off, Joel.”

You pulled yourself from his grip and stalked off, leaving him no choice but to follow you. For someone as damn smart as you were, you made stupid fucking decisions.

Decisions that led to the two of you getting caught in the crossfire between two rival groups that left Joel with a bullet in his stomach near his hip.

“Almost there,” you said, your fingers holding tight to his side.

“Know where the fuck we are,” he muttered. He didn’t need to look at you to know that you rolled your eyes in response.

He managed to make it up the stairs and into the apartment, Tess pacing the living room. She stopped when she saw him, her eyes going wide.

“Jesus Christ,” she ran to him, taking his other side.

“Let’s get him to the table,” you said. “Trying to avoid doing this on the floor again…”

Joel had all but forgotten that you’d saved his life here, in this room, once before. He had almost no memory of it, what little he did remember was more like a dream. You, next to him, your hands soft, voice gentle, something warm in him that was tied to you. You didn’t seem real, you seemed like something he’d lost, something that was in a place that was too far and too good for him to reach. But you were there. And you were taking care of him.

“Fucking told you, Doc,” Tess snapped, helping to haul Joel’s broken body to the table. She cleared the papers and trash from it, dropping shit into a chair. “Fucking told you not to go to that side of the goddamn QZ…”

“Yeah, I get it,” you snapped back. “I’m a fucking idiot, alright? Just help me.”

You and Tess got Joel up on the table and he groaned, his muscle tensing and pulling around the wound in his stomach.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, helping him lay back on the wood with a grunt.

“Don’t know why I let you talk us into this shit,” Tess said, still pissed, as she unbuttoned his shirt. “I should really fucking know better by now, you’re the dumbest smart person I know…”

“Tess,” Joel growled.

“She’s going to get you fucking killed,” she snapped. “She’s going to get us both fucking killed…”

“Tess,” his voice was sharper.

He knew that Tess was far from a fan of yours. She’d been growing tenser and tenser around you for a while now. He was never sure why, if it really was what she said and it was because she felt like you took stupid risks, if it was because he’d never been able to care about her the same way he cared about you in spite of how much he loathed it, if it was because she was tired of trying to keep the peace when you were so clearly done with him. For a while, it had seemed like the two of you were friends. Almost friends. But not anymore.

“Someone has to give a shit if you live or die, Joel, and we both know that it’s not going to be you and it’s not going to be her, either,” she unbuttoned his jeans next. “So that leaves me.”

“You think I don’t give a shit?” You asked, dropping your pack on a chair and yanking it open. “You think I keep you and him alive for fun?”

“No, I think you do it so you can keep trying to save a place that can’t be fucking saved,” she was yelling now.

“Tess.”

“Shut up, Joel,” she barely glanced at him before rounding on you again. “I’m tired of being some tool in her goddamn stupid crusade…”

“Tess.”

“I didn’t fucking make him come with me!” You yelled back at her. “I would have gone on my own, he’s the one…”

“You really think he’s the one who makes the decisions when it comes to you?” Tess shoved you. “You really think he’d let you run off to get yourself fucking killed? You’re an idiot sometimes, Doc, but you’re not that fucking stupid.”

“Tess!” Joel was trying to sit up but she wasn’t paying attention. You were. You looked at him, frowning.

“No,” she yelled, shoving you again. “No, I’m done with this shit, I’m done pretending that we’re doing fucking anything besides risking our fucking lives for some pointless…”

“Tess!” He managed to sit up, grabbing her arm before she could shove you again. Her head spun, hair whirling, eyes narrowed. “She’s right, don’t fuckin’ blame her…”

“She’s…” Tess shook her head. “You are so fucking stuck on her, on her bullshit, on…”

“Get out.”

You pulled gauze out of your pack and pressed it to the wound at his hip.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She gaped at him, her brows raised.

“You can figure out how to fuckin’ respect her or you can go,” Joel said through gritted teeth. “Not gonna just let you talk about her…”

“Her is right here,” you cut him off. “Stop talking about me like I’m not fucking here. And Joel you need to lie down before you fuck something else up, Jesus…”

Tess looked between him and you before she shook her head and stepped back from the table.

“Good fucking luck,” Tess snapped before stalking out and slamming the door behind her.

You looked where she had been for a moment before nudging Joel back down onto the table.

“You done?” You asked, brows raised. “Because I don’t need you to defend me from your girlfriend, Joel. I’m still going to keep you alive even if you both hate me.”

“I don’t…”

“Stay still.”

He gritted his teeth and stared daggers at the ceiling while you worked on him for a moment, pressing gauze into his skin for a bit before pulling it away.

“Don’t think you’ve hit anything major,” you said, more to yourself than to him. He still grunted in response. “Stay put, I still need to get that bullet out and get you cleaned up.”

He followed you with his eyes as you went about collecting tools, cleaning yourself up, putting on sterile gloves. He tried to focus on you without it raising his blood pressure which, he figured, wouldn’t be the best thing to do when there was an open wound on his torso.

But it was hard.

It had been years with you like this. More than a decade. Thinking about you too much made his chest tight, his stomach clench. Thinking about you too much made him worry he might be having a fucking heart attack, that you just might be the death of him.

But you were still who he thought about when he needed comfort. Still where his mind went when he was in pain and he needed to remember why he should try to live through it. Still what he pictured when alone at night and he thought the loss and the emptiness of his life would swallow him whole. Still where his thoughts found when he wanted to come because nothing had ever felt as good as you.

“Think you can sit still while I get this sucker out of you?” You asked. “Because I don’t exactly have someone here to hold you still at the moment.”

“Just do it,” Joel squared his jaw and stared at the ceiling again.

You were quiet for a moment before you touched his bared skin with the lightest, gloved touch.

“I really am sorry,” you said softly. “I know… We have our issues but… I really hate seeing you hurt. I really hate getting you hurt.”

Joel looked at you, your face drawn into a frown, your eyes sad. Even now, he thought you might be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I know,” he said, looking back at the ceiling.

You were quiet and he could feel your eyes on him before he felt you slip some kind of instrument into the wound. He hissed through the pain of it but kept still.

“I know,” you said, voice gentle and soothing. “You’re OK, it’ll be OK.”

He remembered you using that voice with Sarah. He came home from work once and his daughter was perched on the counter, sniffling, her face streaked with tears. You were talking to her in that voice, a wad of paper towel held against her knee.

“You’re OK. It’ll be OK.”

“You with me, Miller?” You asked after what felt like an eternity but knew it must have only been a few minutes. “Need a break?”

“Just finish it,” he managed through gritted teeth.

You found the bullet and planted your hand firmly on the softness of his stomach.

“Hold still,” you said. “This is going to have to be kind of slow, there’s relatively little damage, nothing major hit and I’d like to keep it that way.”

You pulled on it and he could feel you moving through him, through the gaping wound him, pulling the pain out into the open air.

When you finished, you held the bullet up, glistening with blood.

“The cause of all this trouble,” you said, turning it in the light. “Let me patch some of this up and make sure you don’t bleed out. I don’t think you’ll need a blood transfusion this time at least…”

Joel frowned, lifting his head slightly as you set to work.

“What do you mean ‘this time?’”

You froze for half a second before you tried to brush it off.

“Just, you know,” you said. “In general.”

He watched you work for a moment.

“Hey.”

You glanced at him before looking back at his wound.

“What?”

“You had to give me a blood transfusion last time?” He asked, trying not to groan at the pain.

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” you said eventually, tucking gauze into the wound. “But… yeah, you were down a lot of blood and… Look, I did what I had to do to keep you alive.”

You cleaned up the skin around his injury.

“Whose blood?”

“What?” You asked, focused on the task.

“Whose blood did you use?” He asked. “Don’t imagine you went down to the clinic so whose blood.”

You were quiet and Joel was about to ask again when you spoke.

“We didn’t know your blood type,” you said quietly. “So Tommy would have been the best option…” your voice trailed off but he knew that wasn’t the end. He kept watching you and you sighed before you kept going. “But I’m O- so…”

He just blinked for a moment.

“It was yours.”

Your eyes darted to his for half a second.

“Yeah. It was mine.”

He was quiet as you pulled off your gloves with a sharp snap.

You’d saved him. Bled for him, poured yourself into him so he would keep breathing. He’d walked around for who knows how long with you pulsing through his body and he hadn’t known.

“You should have told me,” he said eventually.

“Yeah, well.”

You started packing up.

“You should have…”

“I couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t fucking slit your wrists if you knew, alright?” You snapped. “You hated me. You still hate me but it was worse then, you’ve figured out how to tolerate me in the last decade which is great and all but Jesus, Joel, don’t act like telling you was the easy thing to do.”

You threw your pack over your shoulder and he sat up, ignoring the pain at his hip.

“I need to get home,” you said. “Try not to wreck all my work…”

There was a pounding at the door that made you jump. Joel shoved himself off the table and quickly buttoned his shirt as he limped for the door.

“Bag down,” he said quietly. “Stay back.”

You nodded, obeying him for once in your damn life.

He opened the door slowly, cautiously. A FEDRA officer stood at his door.

“Can I help you?” Joel tried not to growl, tried not to do anything that would incite suspicion. Not that he could help that he had on a bloody shirt with a fucking bullet hole in it.

“There’s been increase violence in a nearby quadrant of the QZ,” the man said, barely looking at Joel. “We’re requiring all residents to shelter in place until further notice. Is everyone here a member of your household or does someone need an escort home?”

Joel saw you step toward the door, opening your mouth like you were about to speak, but he held his hand out behind him, silencing you.

“Same household,” he said. “We’re all set here.”

“We’ll let you know when it’s safe to leave,” the guard said. “Lock your door.”

He left before Joel had a chance to respond and he shut the door quickly before slumping against it.

“Joel!” You hissed, going to his side and looping an arm around his waist. He leaned against you and you helped him to the couch. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“You really want to get a fuckin’ FEDRA escort home?” He grimaced.

“No,” you snapped, setting him on the couch. “But do you remember how long they locked us down for last time?”

“No.”

“A week,” you said, sitting on the threadbare arm chair. “And I’d rather get a FEDRA escort than have you kill me out of frustration in three days because that’s how long we’ll last before you get that fed up with me.”

“Jesus, you really think we can’t manage to not kill each other for a few fuckin’ days?” He settled into the couch. “You n’me have survived a lot worse than that.”

You scoffed.

“Have we?” You asked, brows raised. “Besides, aren’t you worried about Tess?”

He shrugged.

“She can handle herself better than you can,” he said and you rolled your eyes. “You that worried about gettin’ back to Derek?”

“Worried about FEDRA showing up at my door to look for relief for the clinic and not finding me,” you snapped. “Should have just let them…”

“Not gonna let you go out there with those fucking assholes if people are out there shooting at each other!” Joel cut you off. “Don’t trust ‘em with shit let alone with you! I can keep you safe here so you’re staying here, it ain’t up for discussion!”

You just blinked at Joel for a moment, a shocked look on your face.

“Think we can handle not strangling each other for a few damn days,” he muttered, looking away from you. He couldn’t really handle looking at you. You didn’t say anything. You just got up, grabbing your pack and stalking further into the apartment. He frowned. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

“Don’t want to be around you any more than you want to be around me,” you said. “So I’m going to Tommy’s room…”

“Always liked his bed,” Joel muttered, grinding his teeth.

You flipped him off, not bothering to even look at him before slamming Tommy’s door behind you.

***

Day 1

Tommy needed better hobbies.

It was clear Joel had barely used Tommy’s room since he’d left. There were some boxes for storage - things you weren’t about to go searching through since you were pretty sure it was full of black market things from smuggling runs - but otherwise it was exactly how you remembered it. Not that you’d ever spent much time here. You liked to avoid Joel and Tommy seemed to like to avoid him even more than you did when you were around. You’d slept here a few times, when Joel was outside the QZ but Tommy had stayed behind, but he was much more likely to be at your place than his.

But this room was all but a shrine to him. Or maybe more of a mausoleum, something left in memory of someone who was gone and would never be back. You hadn’t really realized how much you’d missed your friend until you were back in his space, surrounded by his things.

You also realized that, in reality, you didn’t have a ton in common. Tommy’s book collection was… lacking. He had a few tattered Tom Clancy novels and you settled on one that you were pretty sure he’d brought over to your place once or twice.

It wasn’t really your thing, though, and you were desperately bored. You were going to have to emerge from the room eventually to do more than pee and refill your water bottle in the bathroom sink. You were almost out of the jerky you’d packed for your trip outside the QZ and you’d never been very good at sitting still with nothing to occupy your mind.

But you’d need to check on Joel’s injury at some point, anyway. Because looking at the ex who seemed to mostly hate you but apparently flew off the handle at the thought of you getting shot.

Which you didn’t fully understand. If anyone asked you, you’d have sworn up and down that Joel would shoot you in the street if it wouldn’t make his life harder. You were surprised he hadn’t all but tossed you to an infected in the years you’d been going outside the QZ but the fact that you did things like pull bullets out of him and stitch Tess’ knife wounds closed was apparently a good enough reason to keep you alive.

You didn’t see how that was a good enough reason to keep you from leaving his apartment when the two of you were about to be locked down for who the fuck knows how long. What were you supposed to do with… well, any of it?

Your head dangled over the edge of the bed when you spotted a ratty tennis ball in the corner. You tumbled off the bed and picked it up, oddly grateful to have something to function as a distraction and started bouncing it off the wall, catching it out of the air when it bounced back at you.

“The fuck you doing?” Joel called at you from the other side of the wall.

You rolled your eyes.

“Keeping myself from being so bored that I jump out a window.”

He was quiet for a minute.

You threw the ball again.

“It’s annoying.”

You caught the ball and then threw it.

“Should’ve sent me off with FEDRA then.”

For a moment, you thought that might be the end of it. And then the door opened.

He’d gotten changed, at least, his new shirt as clean and intact as you could really find in the QZ and he looked a little pale. You looked him in he eye and you threw the ball again.

“You tryin’ to piss me off?” He asked, one arm propped against the door frame.

You shrugged and caught the ball.

“You just make it so fun…”

You threw the ball again and he came and snatched it out of the air. You glared at him.

“Are you trying to make me miserable?” You asked. “Because it’s getting really old…”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He snapped. “Think I decided to come find you in my brother’s bed because it’s fun…”

“Oh will you stop fucking harping on that?” You shoved off the bed and stalked over to him in the doorway. “It’s ancient history! Think it’s time to get over the fact that your brother decided to pick up your broken toy…”

“You think that’s why I’m pissed?” He asked, brows raised.

You ignored him, dropping to your knees and yanking his shirt up. He stopped breathing and you checked his wound before getting to your feet.

“In a few hours I’ll change your dressing,” you said, looking up at him as you stood almost shockingly close to him. You could see the pulse in his throat. “Leave me alone until then.”

He clenched his jaw, looking you up and down, before storming off, yanking the door shut behind him.

Day 2

You waited until you heard the bathroom door close before you emerged. You were officially out of jerky and sitting in a room full of Tommy’s things while being sharply aware that he was thousands of miles away from you was wearing on you fast. You needed something - anything - to distract you.

So you darted to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of jerky, and paused on your way past Joel’s room, his door cracked open. If you were quick…

You opened the, the hinges creaking, and ducked inside.

It was neat, orderly. Like you remembered it being years ago when you were together. There were little signs of him everywhere, enough that you’d have recognized the room as his even if you’d walked into it in a strange place a thousand miles away. Little carvings on the window sill, the watch you’d helped Sarah picked for his birthday gift on the nightstand, a cracked Springsteen CD case sitting next to a worn boom box. You resisted the urge to touch the booklet and see if it fell open to a specific page, if you could tell what he’d been looking for when picking that album.

Instead, you went to the bookshelf that was collapsing, worn boards sagging between cinderblocks. You recognized Joel’s taste in books, a little more in line with your own. You found a Cormac McCarthy book you hadn’t read with a spine that looked comfortably warn and pulled it, almost reverently, off the shelf.

“The hell you doin’?”

You jumped, almost dropping the book and the bag of jerky.

“Sorry…”

“I say you could come in here?”

He was standing in the doorway in pajamas, his pants slung low on his hips, t-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders.

“I am bored out of my mind,” you said, squaring your jaw even though you knew you shouldn’t be in his room. “I got desperate.”

“You think that’s a reason to just waltz in…”

“No, but…”

“Sure acting like it!”

“Is hating me fun for you?” You snapped. “Because it sure seems like it is! I don’t know why you’d work this hard at it if it wasn’t.”

He looked you up and down for a moment.

“Just get the fuck out of here,” he stepped to the side and you ducked around him, all but running back to the room you’d claimed as your own.

You settled in on the bed with your new book, resting it on your knees and trying to forget how mad Joel had been just because you dared set foot in his room, as though you didn’t live together once in another life. It had been so easy for him to forget. You’d been so easy for him to forget.

You opened the book and tried to get absorbed in the story but were having a hard time focusing, shifting around on the bed and hoping that a more comfortable position might make it so you could let yourself fall into it. You were changing positions for the third time when something fell out of the book and flitted like a leaf down to the worn quilt. You frowned, picking it up and turning it over in your hands.

It was a picture. A picture of you.

“What?” You whispered to yourself, eyebrows knitting together.

It was a photo you recognized. Derek had it in his bedroom and he’d taken it without you knowing. You were folded into an armchair in his living room, a book in your hands, hair wild with a ribbon in to keep it out of your face. When he’d developed the photo, you remembered the day he’d taken it. One of the few that you had off from both jobs in the QZ. It had been warm that day, you hadn’t bothered to put on a bra or even pants, sitting around Derek’s place in a pair of his boxers and a tank top. He’d fucked you that morning, before it got too hot, and the two of you spent the day not moving much otherwise, not wanting to spend hours sticky with sweat and miserable.

The day stuck out to you, though, not because of the heat or because you got to spend it somewhere besides the clinic or the school. Instead, it was because it reminded you of summer days in Austin with Joel. Trying not to run the AC too much, you sat far apart on the couch wearing as little as possible with Sarah coming and going from the house with friends. He would bring you glasses of ice water or lemonade almost every time he got up, his lips finding your forehead when he pressed the cold glass into your palm, his large hand finding your ankle because he had to be touching you in some way without making both of you miserable in the heat.

And now Joel had a picture from that day, the one where he’d been on your mind the whole time, so much that you’d given up on trying not to think of him.

You weren’t sure how he’d gotten it. Derek may have given him a copy if he’d asked but you didn’t know how he knew it existed. And why would he want a copy in the first place?

You looked a little closer at it, the corners curling, edges peeling. Like it had been held a lot. There was a discolored almost halo around the edges of you, like someone had been tracing over the outline of you over and over again.

There was a sharp knock on your door and you stuffed the photo into the book again.

“What?” You asked, tone softer than it had been when speaking to Joel in years.

“Mind checkin’ this damn wound?” He asked through the door, his voice oddly gentle. “Since you’re here and all. Make yourself useful.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, of course. No problem.”

You made sure the photo was tucked away and set the book on the nightstand, keeping your fingers crossed that Joel didn’t realize which book you’d taken.

***

Joel didn’t like that you’d taken to hiding in Tommy’s old room.

He didn’t like that you were still here. Or so he tried to tell himself. Really, he didn’t like that you were still here without being here, like you were the ghost in his house in the same way it seemed you’d spent most of the last decade. You were just more corporeal now.

He was used to you crossing his mind all the time. Used to the feeling that, any second now, you’d come around the corner as you finished braiding your hair or with a little bottle of nail polish in your hand or a book in fucking French tucked below your arm. He knew what to do with that.

He didn’t know what to do with you actually here, in such close quarters. Especially not when you seemed to find such comfort in just the memory of his fucking brother - his brother who had damn near gotten you killed - and not Joel, who was actually here.

Joel stared down the hall at Tommy’s - your - door. His wound ached. You’d checked it earlier, said there was no sign of infection and that things were coming along well. You refreshed his bandages and he’d try not to think about the way the soft skin of your arm felt when you brushed against his exposed flesh.

That had been hours ago. He hadn’t heard a word from you since, not even the squeak of the mattress as you shifted and moved in ways he knew so well but couldn’t see.

He shoved himself to his feet with a pained grunt and went to the door, the one that seemed to fucking haunt him now. He knocked once.

“Yeah?”

Your voice sounded thick.

“Want a drink?” He asked. You were quiet. He pressed on. “Figured it was better than drinkin’ alone.”

He gave you a minute and was about to give up on you responding when he heard small creaks on the other side of the door before it opened.

“Whatcha got?”

It took a few whiskeys before you stopped being quite so stiff at his kitchen table and Joel pulled out a deck of cards that had to have been old before the world fell apart but had somehow managed to stay complete.

“Game’s Gin,” he said, dealing. “Remember how to play?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not a total idiot, Miller.”

It was strange, drinking around you. Spending time with you in ways that weren’t required, being able to look at you in ways beyond brief, desperate glances driven by the subconscious need to never, ever forget just how you looked. The precise way your eyes were shaped or your brow arched or lips curved, the exact shade of your skin and your hair and your eyes. Because as much as he didn’t want to need these things, he did. He needed to know these parts of you the way a scholar needed to know his subject, with this obsessive, aching drive for more.

It had never been enough before, the little pieces he was able to collect when you and Tess were distracted with other things and he could take in the new way your skin creased around your eyes, and it somehow wasn’t enough now, memorizing the way you pursed your lips as you organized your hand and the way your hair had fallen out of the braid that was tight against your skull.

“Need somethin’ to change into?” Joel asked eventually.

“Hm?” You looked at him over your cards.

“Just…” he nodded to you. “Still wearin’ what you were when we came back from the run. Need somethin’ to change into?”

“Oh,” you looked down at yourself and then shrugged. “I mean, I won’t argue with it but I don’t want to put you out. It’s not like anyone’s getting close enough to smell me. Oh God, please tell me you can’t smell me from across the table…”

“No, Kid,” he laughed a little and took a sip of whiskey. “Can’t… can’t smell you.”

He wondered if, below the grime of the world outside, you still smelled like lavender.

“If you’ve got some stuff I can borrow then,” you shrugged before grabbing a card. Your face lit up a bit and you set a card down before fanning out your cards in front of you. “Gin.”

“Well shit,” he said, looking over your cards. “You win.”

Day 3

He left you something to wear outside your door.

Joel stared at the wall most of the night, telling himself it was because the fucking bullet hole was hurting more than it had been but that was bullshit. It had faded to a dull pain, one that was easily tolerable and certainly not enough to keep him up at night.

No, instead he stared at the wall that he knew you were just beyond. His mind went over and over your face again and again, logging every single facet so he’d know the next time he was away from you for a while. But that wasn’t enough, either. He wanted to hear you breathing as you slept, wanted to salt away that information, too. He needed it, needed to add it to his collection of you.

But you were out of reach. Asleep in his brother’s bed, the place where you’d chosen to be all those years ago and now left Joel wondering if you’d ever really left. If you’d ever have chosen Joel at all or if he’d just been a stop gap, a thing keeping you from Tommy all this time.

It would have made sense, when he considered it. You were always softer and more open than Joel, always more like Tommy in that way. Maybe all he’d ever been was a placeholder.

He was still awake when he heard you get up in the morning, heard you pause at the door before going to the bathroom and starting the shower.

He hoped he’d find your hair in his shower later.

Your hair was down and wet when you emerged, cautiously coming into the kitchen where Joel was making the shittiest excuse for coffee with instant packets that had expired so long ago it seemed like a miracle there was anything usable at all. You were in one of his flannels and sweatpants, the legs cuffed so you wouldn’t trip, your arms crossed tight over yourself.

“Morning,” you said, glancing at him like he was a predator and you were prey.

“Morning,” he said. “Feelin’ better?”

“Yes, actually,” you said. He held a mug out to you and you took it with a slight frown. “Thank you.”

He just nodded stiffly.

“If you want to lie down,” you nodded toward the couch. “I can check your dressings again. The good news is, this might be the last time I really need to do it so…”

Joel shrugged and obeyed, trying not to think about the sense of panic that flared in his chest at the thought of you not touching him anymore.

It was something Joel had found almost impossible to hold within himself. There was this constant yearning, a pull towards you that was as persistent as gravity and twice as strong. He needed to be close enough to touch you, hold you, protect you. He needed to be close enough to love you.

But standing in sharp contrast was the cold threat of you. The painful grip of it always there at the edges when he lived too long in the memory of loving you. It was a cruel and constant thing - one of the few constants Joel had found in his life in the QZ. He could let his mind wander to the memory of you asleep in his arms but, linger there too long, and the memory shifted to you pale and bleeding and nearly dead as he ran with your broken body to the clinic. The thought of you laughing all full and free with your hand on his chest would twist into you reaching for him and screaming as you were dragged away by raiders. Hell, spend too long trying to savor the memory of being deep inside you, the look on your face as you came undone under his touch, and his mind pulled him down into what McCarthy had described doing to you years ago.

All it took was a second, a moment of Joel not protecting you when he should and you could wind up there again. He didn’t know how to live with that. He wasn’t sure he’d ever figured out how to live with loving you at a distance, either. Something that had become harsh and clear in the days the two of you had been locked down in his apartment.

“This is looking good,” you said, nodding to yourself. Your hands were on his stomach. “Think I can trust you not to fuck it up from here, don’t need me messing around with it anymore…”

You got up and held your hand out, helping Joel sit up without pulling too much at his wound.

“Thanks,” he said. “For making sure I don’t drop dead.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

You gave him a tight smile and went back down the hall, Joel frowning after you for a moment before following. He knocked on the door and he heard you sigh before opening it a few seconds later.

“Yes?”

“Don’t…” Joel realized he didn’t really have a good reason to be standing at your door. “Don’t have to keep hidin’ in here. Sure you’re going stir crazy… Just come out here and…”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” You asked, brows raised. “We’ve managed to not kill each other so far, I don’t know that we want to push it.”

“You really think being in the same room is gonna be pushing it?”

You laughed a little and crossed your arms protectively over yourself.

“Honestly? Yeah, kind of. I mean, Joel, come on. This is the most time we’ve spent together just the two of us since my first trip outside the QZ and we both know how that ended…”

“Yeah,” Joel scoffed, his blood getting hot as he saw you standing there, in his brother’s room, next to his brother’s bed. “Ended with you hating me and jumping into bed with my fuckin’ brother…”

“Jesus Christ, you cannot be serious,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Joel…”

“What?” He propped an arm against the door frame, holding himself back from stalking into Tommy’s old room like he wanted to. “That not what fuckin’ happened? You all but disappear for months and the next thing I know you’re with him. What was it, hm? Was I just who you settled for because you thought he wasn’t interested? That it?”

“No!”

“You just waitin’ for a chance to…”

“I was only with him because you left!”

You yelled it at him. You so rarely yelled, usually so measured and soft and kind in damn near everything you did. He went quiet, the silence hanging heavy between you.

“Do you think I was interested in him before?” You asked, quieter this time. “It was always you, Joel. From the day I met you, it was always you and you’re the one who left me. You’re the one who made me live without you after you made me love you and you don’t get to judge me for what I did to survive you hating me. Yeah, I probably fucked up with Tommy, by having him be anything more than a friend but I was so alone because you made me be so alone! You left me, Joel! I’m sorry I didn’t sit there and wait for you to decide you gave a shit again, I’m sorry I tried to find some semblance of a life without you because losing you was going fucking kill me if I didn’t! So stop holding Tommy against me, stop blaming me for what I had to do to survive losing you, what I’m still doing to survive losing you, because out of all the shitty things that have happened in my life that might just be the worst one!”

Your eyes were shiny with tears and you were standing closer to him than he’d really realized until that moment and his hands were on your skin before he fully understood what he was doing. All he knew was he needed to touch you, feel you, taste you.

His lips were on yours and swallowed the small, surprised squeak that slipped from you as he kissed you, mouth hot and needy against you.

He’d expected you to push him back, to be mad or hurt. Instead, you threw your arms around his neck, body curving and arching into his. Your fingers tangled and knotted in his hair and you pressed yourself so tightly against him that he could feel every line of you through his clothes.

“Joel,” you pulled away from him ever so slightly, sounding needy and breathless. “We shouldn’t do this…”

“Why.”

“We don’t work,” you tugged him closer but kept your lips from him. “We just hurt each other. And you have Tess, I have Derek, it’s not…”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he cut you off, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

For half a moment, Joel thought you were going to. But you didn’t. Instead, you kissed him again, a sense of urgency on your lips, like you were trying to devour him and he longed for you to swallow him up until there was nothing left.

He pulled you into the hall, pressing you back against the wall and ignoring the pain at his hip when he did. In that moment, he didn’t care if it killed him. He needed to be inside you, to feel you close and tight around him. Being without you now would be a more painful end than ripping himself open inside, what difference did a bullet hole make?

Joel pushed his leg from his uninjured side between your knees, shoving them apart and pulling your hips down on his thigh. You ground down against him and moaned into his mouth as you worked your core on his leg.

“Fuck,” you breathed, pulling ever so slightly away from him, your pupils blown and lips swollen. “Joel, you’re hurt, we shouldn’t…”

“Don’t care,” he pressed his mouth to your throat, earning him a delicious moan that hung in his ears like syrup on the tongue. “Need you, Baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad…”

You clutched yourself closer to him, rocking your hips on him as he pulled you back from the wall and maneuvered you to his room, his bed, the place he woke up every day and looked for you, some part of his subconscious knowing that he belonged next to you.

Your fingers pulled at his shirt, tugging it up and over his head before casting it aside and he nudged you onto the bed, taking his shirt off your body, too.

“Joel…” you were sitting back on your elbows, the soft fullness of your chest bared to him as he crawled between your legs. “I can’t… I can’t do this and go back to being nothing to you, Joel, I can’t…”

He looked in your eyes, a pain in them that he found sadly familiar now but it was harsher than he was used to, like you couldn’t keep it contained now so it was laid bare.

“Oh, Baby,” he breathed, his hands finding your waist. You closed your eyes at his touch, breath catching in your throat. “You’re everything to me, everything. Always have been.”

His lips moved to your throat, kissing and biting at the tender skin there as he pulled your pants down and off, you lifting your hips to help before putting your hand down his front to take hold of his cock with a moan. Joel moaned, too. He couldn’t help it, your touch was burned into his memory, what he longed for more than anything else and you were touching him. Your thumb grazed the head of his cock and he shuddered at the contact, whole body on fire with aching and desperate want.

“Need you,” he panted into your lips. “Fuck, need inside you…”

“Good,” you pressed your body against his and he felt his head graze your soft mound. “Because I need you, too. Never stopped…”

He kissed you and pushed you into the bed before pressing his cock into your wet heat. You moaned as you took him into yourself, your back arching. You were so warm and tight around him, Joel had to focus to not come from just the feel of your body clutching onto him.

“Goddamn,” he looked down to where he was buried in you to the root, your fingers sinking into his bicep as you panted for breath. He could feel you breathing, feel your heartbeat from inside you. Why had he wasted so much of his life fighting this when he could have been with you instead? In that moment - when he was buried deep inside of you and he could feel you everywhere, in everything - the fear he’d been so desperately fighting against faded to nothing. There was just you and everything you held, the whole of all his wanting looking up at him in quiet desperation. “Forgot… forgot just how good you feel, holy fuck.”

“Need you to move,” your nails dug into his arm. “Fuck, please Joel, need you to move, please…”

He wasn’t about to say no, even as your already tight walls clenched around him. He dropped his head to your chest and pulled out of you almost entirely, until just his head was left within you, before thrusting back in hard and deep. He kissed you again as he did, swallowing your needy sounds.

Joel tried to hold back, the echo of some pain in his body and his mind, but he was too overwhelmed by you for it to last long. You met his every thrust, working your hips back up against his own as he fucked into you.

“Fuck, Joel,” you wrapped one arm around his shoulders, digging your fingertips into his skin as he felt you getting so tight around him it almost hurt. “Fuck, I’m gonna… Joel, I’m gonna come, I can’t…”

“Do it,” he slid an arm below your waist and pulled you tight and flush to his body, needing to feel as much of your skin as he possibly could. “Come for me, come for me, Baby, need to feel you, have to feel you, fuck Baby…”

You whimpered and keened as your tight channel pulsed around his thick cock, squeezing him so tight it was like your body was pulling his own orgasm out of him.

“I’m comin’ Baby,” he pressed into you deep and hard and you clung to him as he came undone, emptying himself into you. “I’m comin’, fuck, I’m comin’ so fucking hard, Goddamn…”

He collapsed on top of you, his cock still twitching inside you. He couldn’t remember the last time he came that hard, felt quite that drained when he was done. His head rested on your chest, your heartbeat heavy against his cheek as your fingers trailed through his hair and his cock softened inside you.

“Fuck,” he was still panting for breath when he pressed a kiss to your breast bone and slid from your body, the pain at his hip suddenly back with a vengeance, as he collapsed beside you.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you said quietly, turning your head to look at him.

“Baby…”

“We shouldn’t,” you said, your voice thick. “You’re hurt…”

“Good think you’re a doctor.”

You glared at him.

“We just blew up our entire lives, Joel,” you said quietly, eyes wet. “I’m with Derek and I just fucked you because, what, you loved me once and felt bad letting me get shot in the QZ? This was stupid, this was so…”

“No,” he shook his head.

“No?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “No what?”

“No to all of it,” he said. “I didn’t blow up a damn thing. I just finally was able to admit to myself that there isn’t anything to blow up without you, don’t want any of it without you.”

“Joel…”

“Been too scared of it all to admit that,” he pressed on. “But I can’t keep living like that, Baby. I can’t. And I don’t think you can, either.

“We’ve already wasted too much damn time,” he continued. “But I’m not wasting another minute of it, not when I could be with you. Not sayin’ there’s not shit to figure out - pretty sure we got a decade’s worth of it - but don’t ask me to waste more time. Please. Not when it comes to you.”

Your eyes held his as you reached a hand forward and carefully, delicately, cupped his cheek, your thumb tracing his cheekbone. He brushed his lips against the inside of your wrist, feeling the flutter of your pulse against his mouth.

“Think we can figure it out?” You asked. You sounded so uncertain, so afraid.

Joel’s large hand covered your own, holding you against his chin.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “With you, think we can figure anything out.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #smut fic #joel miller x oc

201 notes · View notes

smallraindrops-blog · 2 years

Note

May I please request a Zagreus x Persephone's Priestess Flower Nymph! reader who Zag meets when he successfully completes a run while Persephone's in the underworld, find her tasked for caring for the house and garden while she's away? Please and Thank you.

Take me to the garden

(And bury me where I am loved.)

Fandom: Hades

Zagreus X Female Reader

Word count: 3K

Warning: Kissing, no beta.

Notes: Hi, sorry for the long wait! Been dealing with a combo of flu and work. I hope this was close to what you wanted and that you enjoy it! There is an index of plants/flowers I choose and their symbolism at the end.

Enjoy!

The tall stalks of wheat swayed in the gentle breeze, golden in the fading sunlight. In the coming days, it will be harvested for food. Bread, porridge to fill the belly.

It was a time for the daughters to gather, to work together and provide. The warm sun on their back. And proud smiles on all of their faces. Your mother had worked in the garden just as her mother did and her mother before her. The history was carved in your bones.

Only now it will be just you and your sisters, their eyes on you for leadership.

You heard Persephone’s soft footstep, the grass growing taller with each of her movements. Little daisies will follow, bright white against the grass. You loved the sight of it, little flowers growing.

Even your grief, the low boil of anger in your stomach, you couldn’t ignore Persephone. She had a mother to you in ways your own mother never was. You would not deny her.

So you stood, your empty basket at your feet and turned to face her.

Persephone’s face crumbled when she saw your expression and she held her arms open. “Oh, little one. Do not despair.”

Like a child, you went to her. Her hand rested on top of your head, careful to not disturb the carefully made crown, colorful with ribbons, wheat and small wildflowers weaved in. The sweetness of lavender and her warmth smoothed the ache in your chest just so and you closed your eyes.

There was a moment of silence, the faint brush of a cool breeze then you spoke. “I know why you must go but I won’t lie, my heart won’t let me. I am going to miss you greatly.”

Persephone squeezed you, “I know. I will miss you as well. It's just… I think Zagreus needs me. And I wish to know my son.”

“Of course, my lady.” You told her. “We all know he brings you great joy.”

You closed your eyes, and silently cursed your own weakness.

Persephone left on a beautiful morning, the cheerful skies seemingly uncaring of your grief. Your sisters murmured and some wept, but there was the harvest and the garden that needed tending to. As well the house.

So that what you did, you cared for the land, to the solid wood of the home. The sun drifted on, and the wheat fell under the scythe and new seeds were planted. It didn’t help the pain in your heart but at least you could do this for Persephone.

One by one, each of your sisters left after the harvest. They will return next year, some rounded with children, some with tales of far away places and for some, it will be their daughters in their places.

Then it was just you.

It was when you saw the burnt grass that you knew you weren’t alone. Your mouth thinned in disapproval, you have seen it before.

It meant that Persephone’s son, Zagreus was in the garden.

You never saw him despite him visiting Persephone. The visits were never long, just a few hours and typically by the time you knew there was a stranger in the garden, all that was left were Persephone’s tears and blood.

And the lingering smell of burnt grass.

Carefully you followed the footsteps, thankful that he had stuck to the beaten dirt path. Maybe it was unkind, but you were planning on a firm word with him. Just because Persephone was fine with him going and coming whenever he pleased, didn’t mean you were.

It didn’t take long to find him, kneeling on his knee and his fingers carefully touching the pale petals of the lilies.

He didn’t look anything like you expected. It was rare to see a man, only women and children were allowed to be in Persephone’s sanctuary. It would be easy to mistake him for a mortal at first glance. However, there was a strength to his form, broad shoulders and a fluid grace to his movements that spoke of his godhood.

“Their petals are fragile. I suggest not touching them.” Your voice came out sharp and Zagreus jerked his hand away like a guilty child. He stood quickly, turning to you.

The god looked battle-worn, deep marks on his chest, barely healed cuts on his arms and face. There was a lingering exhaustion in his eyes. He looked surprised, his eyes unwavering from you, then he smiled, slow and warm.

Warmth flooded inside your very core at the sight but you held your head high, your scowl unfading.

“I know you.” Zagreus said, his voice a rumble, a contrast against the gentle birdsong and quiet ruffle of grain. “You’re my mother’s high priestess.”

“And you’re Zagreus. Her son.” You replied.

There was a pause then you asked. “What are you doing here?”

Zagreus looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah. Mother asked me to check on the garden. And on you. She suggested that you might need help.”

“I do not.” You said brusquely. Zagreus gave you a startled glance and you sighed. Guilt was an unwelcome guest but you felt its weight in your chest.

You sighed, “Forgive me, I am not used to strangers. It is very kind of you to fulfill Lady Persephone’s wishes.”

Zagrues chuckled, a grin on his face. It made him appear boyishly sweet. “Truthfully, it's probably better if you didn’t need my help. I never gardened before. I would have killed anything I touched.”

You clicked your tongue, “Never?” You couldn’t imagine such a thing, you had been born among the trees and flowers. You had grown up side by side with the plants, learning the cycles of the seasons and your role in it.

“Never. The underworld is nothing like this. To me, not even the beauty of Elysium comes close to this place.” Zagreus said. His hand waved toward the lilies, to the trees. His face was thoughtful. “The work my mother -and you- put into this place is amazing.”

Your fingers curled over your stomach as pity grew. You still resented him for the pain he caused but…

“Would you like to see the rest?” You offered. “I have finished most of today’s chores and the apple trees are fruiting.”

Zagreus’ mismatched eyes locked on yours and you held your breath, awaiting for a judgment you just now only aware of. You wondered if Zagreus resented you the same you did to him.

Then the same warm smile returned.

“I would like that very much.” Zagreus said quietly.

Not sparing a moment to think about the warm flush on your cheeks, you turned on your heels. Without missing a beat, Zagrues fell in step with you. This close, you felt the warmth of his body. There was a faint smell of copper and smoke.

You kept your eyes forward, not letting him see how off balanced he made you.

You pointed to each and every plant as they walked past. Persephone understood plants in a way no else could as far as you were concerned. Every spot was carefully chosen to maximize the plants’ growth and health.

You told this to Zagreus, pausing in front of the yarrow, the flowers reaching high up to the sun.

“These are yarrows.” You paused, glancing toward Zagreus who offered you a raised eyebrow. “They are also known as the warrior plant. Perhaps I can make you some medicine, it will help you heal.”

At your words, Zagreus’ lip quirked up, a false smile. “I appreciate it. I do but these won’t help me. Nothing will.”

You frowned, mouth parting in question when without a single word, Zagrues walked past you, nodding toward the tall sunflowers. “Now tell me, what are these lovely things?”

Normally you would scoff at such words, what man would think himself above such needs? But the memories of Persephone weeping, her hands, bloody and trembling, hovering over nothing flashed in your mind.

You should have asked more questions but Persephone, for as much as you had cared for her, kept many things close to the chest, Zagreus the closest of all. The said god was looking at you, his black hair ruffled by the soft breeze.

Like this, he wasn’t the villain you thought he was, tearing through the garden and breaking your Lady’s heart. There was a gentleness to him, most would have stomped through the garden, picking apart the flowers but Zagreus had been careful with every single touch.

“Sunflowers.” You told him, moving to stand by his side. “They are always searching for the sun. They follow its path though the skies. Always looking but never able to touch.”

Zagreus frowned, “What a sad story for a cheerful looking plant.”

You inclined your head in quiet agreement, “Come along, I shall show you the apples. Some food will lighten the mood.”

He nodded, however his eyes lingered on the sunflower. The flowers only swayed the breeze, unaware of the god staring at their dark faces.

The apples would help that you were sure of, the sweetness unlike anything. The sight of the trees, colorful and lush, would be a treat of itself.

Only Zagreus never made it.

Among the pale yarrow and yearning sunflowers and quiet birdsong, he collapsed. Your body moved before you realized it, your arms around his chest as you were dragged down with him.

His firm chest was under your ear and there was a moment of embarrassment, your cheeks flushed. Then you heard it, the slowing of a heartbeat. That he wasn’t quite as warm as he was before and when he let out a breath, it rattled.

You shifted quickly, placing a spread hand over where his heart was as you sat up. One your ribbons brushed against his shoulder when you moved to study his face. “Zagreus? Are you alright?”

His eyes met yours and he offered up a weak smile. “Forgive me. You can leave me here. This isn’t the worst place to die alone.”

Your brow furrowed, and Zagreus sighed, the rattle stronger. “My mother didn’t tell you, did she?”

“Don’t speak. Save your strength.” You ordered, your mind scrambling for solutions. Yarrows were only good for when there was a wound, but there was no wound that you could see.

Zagreus huffed out a laugh, his hand reached up to cover yours and your breath hitched at the casual intimacy. His hand was warm and dry, his calloused fingertips brushing your skin.

“Thank you for showing me. The flowers are almost as lovely as you are.” Zagreus said, his words slurring together. You stared down at him, the beating of his heart fading.

“I-“ you tried to say, but there was a thick knot in your throat. It was one thing to know plants and animals die, it was the natural course of life.

Born, live, die.

It was another thing to feel the fading of life itself.

“Can I come back?” Zagreus asked softly. If you said no, you knew he would never step into the garden again.

And you found that you couldn’t bear the cruelness of it, of him never knowing his own Mother’s garden. To not know how the cool, damp earth felt against sun warm skin, of teeth sinking into the sweet flesh of apples or the cool water down a parched throat.

Persephone had chosen you to serve her until your last breath. In that moment, you knew your duty belonged to Zagreus as well, in whatever way you could help him.

How odd things change so quickly.

With your uncovered hand, you brushed his dark hair, silky smooth between your fingers.

“I will come get you myself if you don't return to me.” You said, your voice painfully gentle. Zagreus smiled.

In the next breath, he was gone.

Fat, lazy clouds rolled past, casting long shadows across the land. The sunlight shone through the trees and the sunflowers chased after it. The birds were singing their songs, coaxing mates to them and feeding their babies.

Dirt on your bare feet and the wind in your hair, you worked with a low hum. It was an old song, one that you heard Persephone sung before. You didn’t know the words but you knew the rhythm of it.

Plucking the ripe tomatoes, you placed them in the basket next to the cucumbers, you checked over the rest. Like all of Persephone’s plants, the tomatoes grew strong and healthy.

A memory of mismatched eyes going dull came to you, a weight of pity grew in your chest and you sighed at your foolishnesses. There was a cycle to everything, even for gods.

Yet the memory lingered.

It was when you were cleaning the front porch, your boom sweeping the dust off when you felt eyes on you. Your hands tightened around the wood, more than ready to chase away any unwelcome guest. Whirling around, your mouth parted with a warning ready but you stopped short.

Zagreus flashed you an easy grin, already just a few steps away from you. There was a moment as you and him studied each other, and you wondered if he was struggling with what to say just as you were.

“So how about those apples huh?” Zagreus said, an amused glint in those mismatched eyes. Red and green, they were bright with life. It was beautiful and you found you couldn’t look away.

You huffed in annoyance but your lips twitched, giving away your smile. And Zagreus just laughed, warm and full of life.

A new cycle began.

Just as the sun rose in the east and sunk into the west, so did Zagreus. So did you.

You taught him how to plant seeds, taking his hands and pressing them against the cool earth. His amazed face when he saw the spouts, tiny and bright green and helpless, made you laugh.

You had forgotten the joy of a new discovery.

You shared everything with him, the taste of apples, the golden barley in the sunset and the quietness of early mornings and the songs of crickets during twilight. Often, you caught his eyes lingering on you but you only turned away, not quite ready to… you weren’t even sure what.

There was an unfamiliar ache in you, one that you thought you would never feel and you thought how sunflowers chased after the sun, forever pinning and you felt a kinship with them.

In turn, he told you of the underworld, of the shades and gods that made their home there. You tried to imagine it but it all seemed so far away even if you knew you would be among the shades yourself someday.

For now, however, there was the garden. There was you and Zagreus.

"My mother had been asking about you." Zagreus told you one day, his hands were dirty from working the earth but he seemed pleased. His shoulders relaxed and there was a smile that never left his face.

“Oh? What did you tell her?” You asked as you moved away from the roses, freshly pruned and the red petals were bright in the daylight. With a sigh, you joined him under the shade of trees. You folded your hands in your lap as you settled down.

“The usual. I think she misses you, she talks about you often.” Zagrues said, tugging at the grass. There was a hesitation in his tone and you glanced at him with a frown.

“But?” You prompted. It was one of the first things you learned about Zagreus, he was an open book unless he had no choice.

“She worries about how you are going to handle the upcoming season.” Zagreus said. A breeze came by, and with it, dozens of leaves followed. There was a chill to the air that wasn’t there before.

With the power of Persephone, the garden only knew everlasting bloom. The life here was lush and full and there had been flowers planted by generations of mothers and daughters that had never been touched by rot or death.

There was a cycle, and not even the garden of life would be spared.

Rough fingertips brushed against your knuckles, and you were struck by how much bigger he was. You didn’t pull away. Carefully, he shifted and took one of your hands, his thumb brushing across your skin. There was dirt but you found that you didn't care, especially since your own hands were marked by the earth.

“I told her I wish I could stay up here with you.” Zagreus said, his voice held an intensity that you weren’t used to. Slowly, you met his eyes and your breath hitched at the closeness.

“Can you?” You asked quietly. Your heart raced at the thought of having Zagreus with you for longer, that you and him would survive together with the winter to come. That maybe you might allow for more if he could.

At this, Zagreus squeezed your hand. “I want to. But…”

Just like your hope was dashed but you didn’t resent him for it. Zagreus was a bit like a sunflower, blooming only once to chase after the golden rays of light before returning to the earth.

“Tell her I will be fine.” You said, returning the squeeze. “Tell her I have planned for it. That I am looking forward to resting. I don’t think I've ever seen snow before.”

“And you will stay warm?” Zagreus asked sharply, leaning in closer. You felt like you saw every hues of green and red in those beautiful eyes. He reached brushing a stray hair from your face.

“Yes. I will.” You said quietly.

“Good.” Zagreus said, just as quiet.

Then he kissed you.

It was gentle but warm sparks went off in your core as you carefully returned it. You leaned more into him, just wanting to feel him. Your other hand pressed against his chest, his heart strong under your palm. You felt weightless, like nothing but Zagreus could keep you grounded.

Even when the kiss broke, the feeling remained. He smiled at you, his cheeks flushed.

And you kissed him under the canopy of trees, the smell of roses drifting through the air and you felt like the winter itself would never touch you.

Flower/plant index

Wheat: Staff of life, Resurrection

Lavender: Devotion, Grace

Lily: Devotion, Purity, Associated with Hera and Zeus

Apples: Love, Good health, Associated with Aphrodite

Yarrow:Courage, Love against all odds, Associated with Achilles

Sunflowers: Unwavering faith, Loyalty, Associated with Apollo and Clytie

Roses: Romantic Love, Passion, Sacrifice, Associated with Aphrodite.

#Hades #zagreus #Zagreus x reader #Zagreus x female!reader #Zagreus x y/n #reader insert #x reader #fanfic #hades fic

816 notes · View notes