#I feel fine except for a scratchy throat so it could just be all the singing I’ve been doing for opera lately

[e77y]

Was about to (FINALLY) go to bed and checked my Notes app for… something; I forget what now. And I discovered that an unknown number of my notes since the last one (written almost a full month ago) disappeared for seemingly no reason? I just opened my Notes app and everything was gone 😭 I saved what I could from iCloud, but I am NOT good at freeing up storage soooo idk apparently it hadn’t been syncing for around a month. Seems like it’s everything from before August 18th… I have definitely written things since then, although I’m not sure what lol, sooooo hopefully it wasn’t too important. All I remembered to check for were some fic notes and poem ideas that are definitely gone forever :( At least I think my passwords and other important info is intact 🥹 My sign to stop being the 2000+ notes guy I guess

[soft-mafia]

Sore Throat[Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, fem y/n, blowjobs, face-fucking, smut, nsfw, sick Buggy

a/n: just a short smut shot :3

When Buggy is sick, he acts like he’s on his deathbed. It doesn’t matter if it’s just the common flu, or a scratchy throat, or a mild headache, anyone would think he was suffering through a deadly illness.

“Y/n.” Buggy croaked out in a hoarse voice, “Lay down with me.”

Y/n sighed and laid next to him, snuggling against his chest. She had just given him an ice pack to lay over his forehead to help with his temperature, she gently patted his chest, “You’re gonna be fine, Buggy.” She said to him sweetly, “Mohjis taking over for the day until you start feeling better.” He was completely naked, the only thing covering up his manhood was the blankets, he hadn’t left the bed at all ever since he started showing signs of sickness. Well, except when he would detach parts of his body if he needed to grab something or use the bathroom.

Buggy gently held Y/n’s arm as she curled up with him, he sniffled loudly, then groaned as he tilted his head back, “I feel awful.” He grumbled. Y/n couldn’t help but giggle as she readjusted the ice pack on his forehead, “I’ll make you some soup later.”

“I don’t want soup.” Buggy frowned.

Y/n looked up at him, “What do you want then?” She stroked his jaw, grazing her fingertips against his stubble, “More ice?”

Buggy placed a hand to his chin, “Hmmm… No, no…” he thought out loud, then grinned, “I can think of one thing that can ease my nerves.” Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes and sit up on her elbows, leaning over his chest as she looked down at him.

“Buggy, we can’t have sex when you’re sick.” She stated, to which he growled, his neck detaching so his head could float upwards and he could look down at her without having to move his body from being sprawled out on the bed.

“WHY NOT?!” He shouted at her with a slightly nasally voice due to his nose being clogged. “Because you’re sick!!” Y/n grabbed his head and forced it back down on the pillow, squishing his cheeks together.

Buggy gripped her wrists, continuing to shout, “Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I don’t have needs!!” He wiggled his head away from Y/n’s grasp, then whined at her, “How about you just suck me off? Just this once, I’ll be fine I promise!” The ice pack was starting to slump down from his forehead, however Y/n quickly laid his head back down and readjusted it, knowing if it fell he would start complaining even more.

“Ok.” She grumbled, “Fine.” With a sigh, she moved to lay in the space between his legs, tossing the blanket to the side to reveal his thick cock, which was already hard. Once it was uncovered it bobbed up, nearly hitting Y/n in the face. Buggy giggled softly when he saw that. She grasped his shaft in her hand and he let out a low grunt, laying his head back against the pillows. “Does this feel good?” She cooed to him, pumping his cock slowly, his pelvis twitched and he couldn’t help but buck his hips upwards just slightly.

He nodded, groaning as he looked back down at her. Y/n slowly took his tip in her mouth, licking her tongue over the slit before sliding her mouth down further and further until her nose was pressed up against that fluffy blue bush of his. Buggy’s hand instantly flew to the back of her head, making her gasp lightly as he began to move her head up and down. He let out rhythmic grunts, groans and other noises of pleasure, he spread his legs wider as he continued to make Y/n suck his cock, bringing her deeper and going faster until he was fully fucking her face.

He held either side of her face, gripping it firmly as he bucked his hips up in tandem with bringing her head down on him. Y/n’s soft gags and moans around his dick drove him crazy, giving him a burst energy. “See? I’m doing just fine.” Buggy laughed in between huffs of pleasure. Y/n whimpered on his cock as a response, looking up at him with fluttering, tearful eyes.

“Oh, what was that? Too much for you?” Buggy teased, a wicked grin on his face, he then pulled her face back, making her gasp once his cock popped out of her mouth. Y/n’s lips were flushed and slightly swollen, her mouth gaped as she caught her breath, continuing to look up at him with bedroom eyes, “B-Buggy…”

Buggy guided Y/n with his floating hands, “Lean back, baby.”

Again, Buggy was too lazy to get up and move, but he could easily maneuver Y/n anyway he wanted by detaching his body parts. He held her legs open after pulling her pants and panties off, his cock floated over to her entrance and the tip grazed against her clit. Y/n trembled, then leaned her head back and moaned, “Buggyy…” she mewled.

He grunted deeply when he thrusted his cock all the way inside, a deep growl leaving his throat as he began to plow rough into her, he kept her legs spread wide open, watching her from his place as if he was getting a front view show— which he technically was, but he was feeling everything.

“See? See, I’m sick and I’m fucking you just right!” He said in a hoarse voice through pants and grunts. He tilted his head back again, water rolling down his face from the ice that was slowly melting in the ice pack. Y/n moaned in response, makeup running down her face as her eyes rolled back. Seeing her fucked out expression made Buggy even more hard, his abdomen clenched, letting him know he was so close to an orgasm.

He panted heavily, beginning to tire out as his movements slowed, only slightly though as he was still keeping up a good pace. Y/n trembled around him as she came, moaning out his name in the way that always drove him crazy.

“Who’s your captain?” Buggy groaned, using a little bit more of his energy to speed up his cock again, “Who owns this pussy?!”

“Y-You!” Y/n groaned out, her entire body trembling, her upper half falling back on the bed as her arms could no longer keep herself up. She was panting and moaning heavily.

That had Buggy spilling over the edge, watching her laying back with him holding her legs up in the air, her pussy swallowing him whole— it sent a rush through his body that went straight to his cock, then splurted out inside of her. They both were breathing heavily.

Not too long after, Buggy was groaning, his hands falling down on the bed along with Y/n’s legs, letting them fall over his thighs. That splitting migraine came back again, and now his stomach was starting to hurt due to all of that pressure moments ago. “Oh crap, I don’t feel so good.”

Y/n groaned and rolled her eyes, sitting up on her elbows, “Not so hot now huh? Told you so.” She sniffled, “Damn it I think you’re starting to get me sick now.”

[idyllcy]

shoujo moments in my life with the robins

word count: 870

summary: anything is romanticizeable if you're delusional enough /j

𓅫. your crush cooking for you when you're sick - Jason Todd

Your head is splitting apart, and you think you're going to die. Sure, this happens every year thanks to your shitty immune system, but it's also NOT a fun experience. You might lose your life at this rate (you're being dramatic. you know.) but it does feel terrible. The door to your room creaks open slightly, and you manage to groan as a greeting. "You good? Heard you were sick." Jason speaks up, blinking at you owlishly. "Feel terrible." You mumble back. "Want anything?" "Sleep." You knock out immediately after. Jason, sweetheart Jason, sweet 11-year-old Jason, walks down the stairs at Wayne Manor and heads to the kitchen, asking Alfred for some fruit and tomatoes, cuts them up for you, sprinkling sugar on the tomatoes for you. Alfred looks, eyes fond as Jason takes the plate upstairs. You hear the door open again, voice scratchy as it comes out of your throat. "Who is it?" "I brought you fruit." "Leave it on the table, please." You mumble. "Thank you." "Of course." When you feel better a couple hours later, you bring it downstairs to share with Jason, a smile on your face, flush on your cheeks, warm with appreciation for the boy, all while Jason checks your temperature to make sure you're fine.

𓅫. a summer fling with a boy you'll never see again - Tim Drake

The summer sun burns into your skin while the breeze sends chills down your spine as you walk down from your cabin to the main tent. Your roommate reminds you of which team the two of you are on, and it's really unassuming. The camp is normal until it's not. It's normal until your fingers are brushing Tim's as your cramming to get the stupid car working, and it's normal until Tim has his hand on your shoulder, anxiety all over his face at the thought of not winning. It's normal until Tim steps next to you every chance he gets, his bias for you showing clearly in your group. You barely know him. Until a day ago, he was just some stranger to you. Then, he's one of the closest to you in the group. He's cheering for you when you're dying on the climb up, and he's next to you on the bus ride back. He's next to you when you're decoding a puzzle, and he's next to you at every chance he gets. But you'll never see him again. Even when the two of you are talking about the rest of summer's plans, you know you'll never see him again. He's too far away. But you cherish the last moments with him, tilting your head to bully him for not learning your name, knowing well that Tim does know your name. He called you on the second day, eyes digging into yours, something spiking through your chest. a mutual i like you hangs in the air, but that's the end of your story. You never get his number.

𓅫. getting your shoelaces tied by a boy in your class - Dick Grayson

You're young, eyes big and frustrated, and you've just made the change to actual laces instead of velcro. You're part of the cool kids club now— except you aren't. You have no idea how to tie your shoelaces. You step out of the girls bathroom, looking around for your bathroom buddy, noticing your laces have come untied. Dick tilts his head at you as you wince at your untied laces, and he drops down to reach for your laces. "What are you doing?!" "Tying your laces." Dick smiles up at you. "You can just teach me..." You trail off, frowning. "Yes, but we're in the middle of an activity in class right now, so we're in a hurry. Have madame send me with you next time and I can teach you." He smiles at you as he stands up. "Come on." True to his word, the next time the two of you leave for the bathroom, he sits you on one of the benches only the older kids were allowed to sit on and shows you how to tie your laces, grinning at you, missing a front tooth, waiting as you tie your laces over and over again, all the way until you could do it without questioning your ability. "thank... you." You mumble, cheeks red with embarrassment. "Of course." He grins.

𓅫. an ex-crush who liked you the most amongst the class - Damian Wayne

You're at a class reunion— or, something along the lines of that. You were called by a friend to take a photo together as a group, and you dragged another friend along, another old classmate of the same class, and the two of you wait in the lobby of the cafeteria. You hope you don't need to talk to Damian, your middle school crush on him was embarrassing enough on its own. Then, your friend arrives, and you rush over, missing the way Damian steps through the glass doors too. Your other friend follows behind you as you greet him, and in that moment, Damian walks past you, green eyes digging into yours, before he steps next to you, speaking to your friend too, light conversation before he turns his attention to you, tilting his head. "Heard you're going to the same college as me." "A-ah? yeah." You smile awkwardly, feeling the nerves from middle school crawl up your back again. You curse yourself for never getting the closure you needed. "What's your major?" You tilt your head. "Didn't I tell you?" "Did you? I must've forgot." He hums. "my apologies." Your major slips past your lips, and his does too, and your friend on the side perks up, mentioning that she was studying the same major as him. You tilt your head to look back a her before Damian ignores what she's said, going back to you— and your heart races, being favored so obviously in front of everyone else. and before you leave, he catches you, smile on his face, away from the rest of the class. "I'll see you in college?" "Y-yeah!" You smile. "See you then."

𓅫. putting on makeup for you - Steph Brown

"Stay still." Steph mumbles, hand on your face, tilting it so that she could get a better angle. You hold your breath as she does, closing your eyes as she brushes the eyeliner on. Your heart races in your chest as she pulls back, staring at both of your eyes, puffing out her cheeks. "Steph? You good?" "You look good. Too good. I need to jump you good." You bark out a laugh, throwing your head back as you laugh. "Alright. Lipstick next." Steph grins. "pucker up babes." "You want a kiss while we're at it?" You wiggle your brows. "Oh? I sure do." Steph winks, pressing the lipstick to your lips as she does, and she pulls back when she finishes. "There. Now your prom look is finished." "Do I look like I could pull?" "I'd fuck you right now." "I'M BEING VIOLATEDDDD!!!" You fake a shriek. Steph tilts her head as she looks at you, and she grins. You look really good.

i ran out of brain juice in the end sorry lol

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

This is my first time ever requesting SMTH OML IM SWEATIN 😟 BUT I WANTED TO HAVE MY FIRST REQUEST BE TOWARDS YOU CAUSE UR WRITING IS SO GOOD AND BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN LIKE THE EMOTION UR ABLE TO CONVEY JUST THROUGH WORDS IS CRAZY N ADDICTIVELY DELICIOUS NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES IT HURTS MY SOUL ANYWAY MOVING ON (i love ur writing sm its so artistic)

this is so akward but like a reader who grew up around family members who'd get RLLY drunk n made her home super uncomfortable for her so like it's like a sensitive thing when she's around intoxicated people yk like n one day bill shows up late from a party pretty messed up n is kinda acting like an asshole lowkey aggressive LIKE ANGSTY YK UR AMAZING AT THAT n then the next morning bill wakes up hung over without reader in bed next to him confused n finally remembers n how royally fucked he is n hes like super apologetic

THATS ALL I GOT BUT UM IF U DONT FEEL COMFY WRITING IT I TOTALLY GET IT LIKE IGNORE THIS DELETE THIS DW, BUT IF YOU DO THANK YOU IN ADVANCE IYLSM

(this Lowkey sucks ass and I'm so sorry for making you wait this long for this piece of shit writing I wrote, jut I still hope you enjoy it and I'm so glad you like my works and my writing!)

Drunk & Sober Mistakes

Bill woke up with a pounding in his head, groaning as he flipped over onto his stomach. He reached for the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of water.

He drank from it like he was dehydrated for ten years, feeling like he was as he savored the feeling of it pouring down his throat.

"(Name)...?" Bill called out, his voice raspy and scratchy as he woke up, trying to see you.

Bill looked up confused when he got no response, looking around from the bed as best he could.

Bill groaned as he got up, almost stumbling as he made it to his feet and to the bathroom, desperately trying to get the taste out his mouth.

He brushed his teeth, almost gagging at the taste of the toothpaste with throw up in his mouth.

Bill finally has time to mull over everything, everything in small blurs except that he knew that he got drunk.

He came home, and for some reason felt in a bad mood, and unfortunately you were there as well, so you got some backlash.

Bill felt like hitting himself, especially as it came back in an almost tidal wave that he remembered everything.

Your family has problems with drinking, getting so drunk to the point of making you uncomfortable.

Bill promised to never do that to you, but now?

Bill felt the throw up coming back up as he realized he had broken that promise, and your trust.

Something Bill vowed to never do to you

As he did so, he heard the front door open and shut as soon as he heard it. Bill sighed, knowing it was you just from the sound of your footsteps.

Knowing he has to face you, and full of shame, he walks out of the bathroom to see you collecting stuff off the floor he had either knocked down, or dropped.

Watching you do so as he leaned against the doorframe only made him even more guilty.

You knew he was there from the burning and the feeling all over your body, but you chose to ignore him, feeling as he deserves it for what he has done last night.

At your silence and watching you trying to fix the bed, Bill sighed.

"I'm sorry, babe." Bill finally spoke up, looking as you stopped your movement, listening as he stepped closer, staying a little ways away as he didn't want to make you even more uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry for getting drunk. I…I didn't think I would get that bad." Bill sighed once more, walking closer to you as he heard you sigh as well, about to shrug him off.

"It's fine-"

"No, it's not. I fucked up. I'm sorry." Bill apologized once more, looking as you shook your head as he stood right behind you. Bill wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to put his chin on your shoulders.

"I'm sorry…" Bill repeated, kissing your cheek in light kisses as he heard you sigh, moving the hands to softly sit on his, so soft and quiet it was like you wouldn't notice your hands unless you spoke up about them.

"Just- just don't do it again…" you mumbled, looking over your shoulder slightly to see his face close to yours, a frown almost permanent on his.

"I promise you, I won't ever do it again." Bill reassured, pecking your lips softly once as he rubbed his thumb over your waist.

"...You were being a real asshole." You said, actually meaning it and thinking he deserves to hear it. Bill sighed, nodding softly as he knew he was.

Bill thought about something for a moment, to at least try and make it a little more better before he finally found it.

"...wanna smack me?" Bill offered quickly, getting a pause from you as you finally turned around to look at him.

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh at the suggestion, Bill smiling as he finally got a smile out of you.

"To make it better!" Bill laughed along, smiling as he put his hands on your hips.

"No!" You shook your head, objecting like he was crazy but he was smiling at the sound of your laughter.

"Come on, just one smack." Bill tried once more, tickling your sides softly as you playfully scoffed and moved his hands.

"Is this a new kink you're trying out?" You joked, Bill falling silent as he gave you a funny look.

You both gave each other little smirks, amused before you both bursted out laughing.

Bill chuckled, grabbing your arm and bringing you into a hug as you kept on giggling.

He rubbed your back, your arms and kissed your head.

"I'm sorry, again."

"It's fine…just promise to not do it again?" You mumbled out, smiling up at him from his chest as he chuckled, immediately nodding.

"I promise I won't ever do it again. Sticking to soda from now on, huh?" Bill asked, his hands on your waist now with yours around his.

"You most definitely are." You smiled back, scrunching up your nose as he leaned down and almost touched his nose with yours, still smiling.

"Well, got a soda cop here now, huh?"

"Yup, ass."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[partypoisonzz]

passenger princess (90s!trey parker x fem!reader)

Thanks to my beloved mutual @sqiblet for the title and inspiring the concept with a message they sent me a week or so ago.

Content:

- Road head (woohoo)

- Mean!Trey

- Degradation AND praise kinks

- Hair pulling

- Everyone's a switch and nothing hurts (except for when it's meant to)

Word Count: 2,826

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

Hope you enjoy.

- Pen

-

You shift in the passenger seat, eyes opening slowly. Squinting at the clock on the dash through the dark, you find that it is currently 10:47 PM.

Jesus, you think as you blink and stretch. I've been asleep for over four hours.

You straighten in your seat, turning to look at your boyfriend as he stops at a red light. Even in the dim light from the road, you can see that Trey looks tired, and no wonder.

The two of you threw a handful of your belongings into the trunk of his car before the sun rose this morning and started driving out to California. You're headed to some cheap little apartment that you've never even seen in person because Trey and Matt rushed to sign the lease as soon as they finished the walkthrough. You don't know exactly what to expect. You just know that your life as you've known it all these years is done, and you're starting over.

You should be scared shitless, but you aren't. You owe all of that to the guy in the driver's seat. 

A drowsy smile comes over your face. It might not be smart, but you would follow him anywhere. Once school was over and the first movie was out, the possibility of success seemed all the more real. It just wouldn't be too easy to find in Colorado. When he suggested pooling some money together and heading towards LA sooner rather than later, he was only met with agreement from Matt and Dian. And you, of course. 

Now the four of you have a one-bedroom apartment waiting for you on the outskirts of the city. It's real, and it all could be the world's dumbest flight of fancy, but you can't bring yourself to worry about it right now. 

Not when your boyfriend looks so fucking beautiful in the glow of the traffic light. 

"Hey," you rasp out, throat still scratchy from your nap. 

He glances over at you, shooting you a tired smile. "Good morning," he says, despite the fact that you still have a little over an hour to go before midnight. "How'd you sleep?" 

"As good as I can in a car." Taking note of the dark circles forming under his eyes, you ask: "Do you want to switch off again?" 

He shakes his head, loose strands of his newly-bleached hair falling over his face. "Nah," he says. "We've only got a few more miles 'til the rest stop. Then we can stop for the night." 

You frown. "You sure? You look like you're about to fall asleep…"

"I'll be fine," he assures you. His free hand lands on your thigh as the light changes, squeezing as the car creeps back into motion. "As long as I have you to keep me awake, I'll be good."

You grin, reveling in the feeling of his fingers against your skin. You find yourself wishing he would dig them in just a little bit harder, leave behind some of those pretty bruises you love so much. Reminders of who you belong to. "Keep you awake, huh?" you ask. "How?"

"Talk to me," he responds easily. Try as he might to play coy, you are keenly aware of his hand climbing higher and higher up your leg, stopping at the seam of your shorts before traveling back down. "Have any interesting dreams?" 

You laugh. "Do you want me to be honest or make one up?"

"Hmm… Honesty first."

"We made it to the apartment," you tell him. "We were unpacking. It was a dumpy little place, but I was just so happy that it was ours."

"Mmm-hmm." He gives your thigh a slight squeeze. "And what about the more interesting one?" 

You bite back a laugh as your own hand travels across the center console, stopping to hover over his zipper. "I found a more fun way to keep you awake." 

You can tell that he's struggling not to look down at where your hand is going, wondering if you're getting at what he suspects. "And what was that?" 

With that, your hand meets denim. "I blew you while you were driving."

Before he can try to suppress it, a groan breaks up from the back of his throat. "Shit," he curses.

A spark of satisfaction runs through you, noting that he's already getting hard before you even start moving your hand. It really doesn't take much. "You didn't seem tired anymore, that's for sure." You manage to keep your voice level as you palm him through his jeans, hiding the fact that you're getting wet at the mere thought of it. "Only problem was you only had one hand on the wheel. The other one was on the back of my head, pushing me further down onto your cock." You laugh. "We made a real mess, too. I tried to swallow it all, but…"

Your words drift off as he finally digs his fingers into your skin, biting out an order. "Shut up." 

Though the dominance in his tone makes your heart flutter, you continue your teasing. "Wanna do it for me?" 

"Fuck." The hand that was resting on your leg falls away, reaching to undo your seatbelt. "Come here." 

You hesitate. It's always fun to get him hot and bothered, then piss him off. All the better outcome for you. "You really think you'll be able to concentrate on the road while I'm sucking you off?" 

"Yeah, I will," he snaps. "Just get over here and…"

"Okay, okay." You lean over the center console, contorting yourself in a less-than-comfortable position. Though it's really only a mild inconvenience, you opt to put on for just a bit longer. See how wild you can drive him before getting down to it. "You know… This is sort of an awkward position…"

"Don't care," he cuts you off. "Just… Fucking…"

"Shouldn't you be a bit more patient?" you chastise him, even though you're already tugging down his zipper. 

He huffs. "Shouldn't you be a little less of a fucking tease?" He freezes, shivering slightly under your touch as you quickly manage to snap the button on his jeans and tug them down. 

Though you know he isn't looking at you, you smile up at him, anyway. "You know that you love it, baby," you coo, planting your hands against his trembling thighs. "Look at you. You try to be all mean, but you're fucking shaking for me." 

His jaw clenches. You know he's about to say something that would probably hurt your feelings if you weren't so damn turned on. Before he can, you grab ahold of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, inspiring a desperate gasp as he involuntarily bucks his hips up into your hand.

You laugh. Suddenly, you're the mean one. "See? You can try to take control all you want, but at the end of the day you're just my good boy." 

Your eyes flicker back up to take in his expression, only for heat to pool in your belly. 

Yeah. You've really done it now. 

Though he's obviously flustered, it's all the more apparent that he's pissed off. You love this struggle that the two of you regularly engage in, the constant question of who will be the first to give in and let the other have their way with them. 

Tonight, you had no intention of winning this struggle. You just wanted to see how much it would take to push him over the edge. 

When he stops at the next light, you know for sure that you've reached that point. His hand momentarily leaves the steering wheel, pulling his pants down the rest of the way while the fingers of his other hand curl beneath your jaw, holding your head in place. "You and your smart fucking mouth," he spits. "I'm gonna give you something else to do with it."

Just like that, any semblance of dominance leaves you. You find yourself whimpering, relishing the force of his touch. "Please."

He laughs. "Please?" he echoes. "Baby, you don't have to beg." He releases your jaw, his left hand returning to the steering wheel as his right settles on the back of your neck. You swear you could melt into the seats as he presses down. "Just fucking take it."

With those words, you do exactly as you were told.

He groans as you wrap your lips around him, tongue running over the side of his cock. You cast your eyes up again just in time to see him catch himself after leaning back against the headrest as his left hand curls back around the steering wheel. "There we go," he chokes out as he straightens his posture. 

You feel a rush of heat between your thighs as his hand moves from your neck to your hair. Now that he has you where he wants you, his forcefulness has melted away into tenderness. "That's my good girl," he praises you as you lick back up the side and over his head. You moan around him at the affectionate name, inspiring a breathy chuckle. 

"You like that, don't you?" he asks. "Yeah, you do. My desperate little good girl, sucking my cock to keep me awake while I drive."

The car begins to move again as you continue to work him. By this point, you have each other memorized, knowing exactly what sends one another over the edge. You know exactly where to press your tongue, when to hollow your cheeks around him, how fast to go. It's familiar, but it isn't boring by any stretch of the imagination. You're just waiting for the reward of making him come, — a privilege that never gets old. 

You could never get tired of his voice, either. You swear that every word and sound that leaves his mouth makes you wetter, spurring you on. 

Despite the fact that his eyes are focused on the road, Trey sounds just as thoroughly debauched as if you were kneeling in front of the couch. Each desperate groan inspires you to slow down, drawing out every repeated movement as the salty taste of precome meets your tongue. 

"Fuck," he curses as you swirl your tongue around his head at a frustratingly slow pace. "Thought you were done being a little tease…" His complaint is cut off by a gasp as you abruptly take him all the way down. 

His fingers tangle in your hair as a desperate, high-pitched sound escapes his mouth. Finally, he reaches the back of your throat, eliciting a gag.

"Holy shit, baby." You feel his thighs shaking beneath your hands again as he forces out the breathy curse. He lets out another sharp gasp as you momentarily lift your head, only to lower yourself back down, constricting around him again with a quiet choked sound.

With that, his desperate moan turns into a growl. "That's what you want, huh?" he asks. "You want me to fuck your throat?" 

You bob your head again, resulting in another gag, followed by an affirmative hum. 

He laughs, fingers running absentmindedly over your scalp. "Pretty little slut," he mutters before bucking his hips up against your mouth. 

Tears prick at your eyes as you gag again. The growing warmth between your legs causes you to shift a bit, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to satisfy your growing desire to be touched. 

Each buck is harsh, though the violence of your gag reflex's response lessens over time. Even still, Trey's hand in your hair and the sounds that he makes are enough to leave you whimpering, shifting against the seat desperately. 

"Such a good fucking slut for me… Oh, fuck…" He rolls his hips up again, causing your throat to tighten at the same time that your walls clench around nothing. You can feel him, pulsing and twitching in your mouth, letting you know that he's getting close. 

The way his hand tightens in your hair confirms this suspicion. You moan as he collects a handful of hair and harshly tugs before pushing you back down on him. "Is this what you wanted?" he asks through a series of strained groans. "Wanted me to use you? Wanted me to treat you like my own little fuckdoll?" 

You try to hum an agreement, only for an unintelligible sound to break up from your throat. 

He laughs. The combination of affection and condescension makes you even wetter. "Don't talk with your mouth full, baby." He pushes your head down again, resulting in another choked sound. 

You focus on breathing through your nose as each push of his hips gets faster and his groans grow louder and more desperate. 

"I'm gonna come," he announces. "Gonna fill up your pretty little mouth…" 

He gives your hair an especially harsh pull as he releases with a loud, shaking groan. You let out a quiet, desperate sound as warm come fills your mouth, swallowing around him as he rides out his orgasm. 

Finally, he relaxes back against the seat with an unsteady sigh. "Fuck…" His fingers relax in your hair, going back to stroking gently as your breathing begins to even out. "You okay, baby?" 

You nod as you pull away, running your hand across your mouth as you swallow once more. "Yeah," you choke out, voice slightly rough. 

He hums in reply as he flicks on his turn signal, turning into a convenience store parking lot. 

He pulls the car into a dimly-lit parking space before reaching for the glove compartment. He comes up with a stack of fast food napkins. He uses one to clean himself up before fixing his pants. Discarding the first napkin, he turns towards you. "C'mere, hon." 

You scoot closer to him, allowing him to begin wiping at your face. 

You lean slightly into his hand as he cleans up the mascara-tinged tear streaks and mixture of come and drool. "You weren't kidding," he comments as he grabs another napkin. "We really do make a mess together."

Finally, he deems his work satisfactory, crumpling the last napkin before gently cupping your face in both hands. He presses a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling back, running his thumb against your cheek. "So good for me," he says. "I love you."

You smile, resting your forehead against his. "Love you, too."

You stay there like that for a moment before he gently pats your cheek. "Let's go get something to eat, hmm?" he says. "My treat."

-

You sit your selection of various snacks aside, grabbing a large cup from the stack next to the soda fountain. As you fill the cup up with ice, you feel a familiar pair of arms snake around your waist. 

You smile as Trey rests his chin on your shoulder, holding you as though you were standing in your own kitchen and not some random convenience store in the middle of the night. "Find anything you like?" he asks.

You lean back into him, pulling your cup away from the ice dispenser. "Mmm-hmm."

"Good." He kisses your forehead as he pulls away. "I'll be able to actually spoil you one day. I promise." 

Warmth blooms in your chest at that thought. You don't care if the spoiling part ever comes to fruition. Just the promise of one day is enough for you, assuring you that, whatever the future holds, you'll be doing it together. 

-

He doesn't let you drive the rest of the way to the rest stop. "Just a few minutes," he tells you. "Then we can both get some sleep."

Soon enough, you're parked in the parking lot, hulking trucks on all sides. The two of you climb into the backseat, where Trey takes off his jacket and folds in his lap. "Here."

You lay your head in his lap with a contented sigh, allowing him to go back to playing with your hair. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Do you want me to, ah… Do anything for you?" he asks quietly.

You laugh, shaking your head. "We'll be at the apartment tomorrow. Matt and Dian won't be up here for a few days. We'll have plenty of time." You laugh. "Too many creepy old truckers here."

"I'd make those truckers look the other fucking way…" 

You swat at him lazily. "Shut up. I know you can't fight."

"For you, I could." 

You look up at his dark-circled eyes and make an incredulous sound. "I don't think you could even stay awake for long enough."

"For you, I could," he repeats. He reaches for your hand and pulls it up to his lips. Your eyes flutter as he plants a gentle kiss against your fingers. "Love you, baby."

"Love you, too." You close your eyes, feeling yourself beginning to drift off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Even with your eyes closed, you can hear the smile in his voice. "Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow."

Another promise to soothe you to sleep. 

[barclaysangel]

Sick Day

This is 100% dedicated to @streets-in-paradise as a little belated birthday present (feliz cumpleaños, amiga!)!

Lucy, remember how I was writing a Barclay-Wheeler oneshot where Andy was sick and Jake and Junior were taking care of him BACK IN JULY (I'm awful, I know)? Well, since I realized too late it was your birthday yesterday, I decided I was going to buckle down and finish the oneshot. I spent all night and this morning writing it and I finally finished this 3.3K oneshot!

I reeeeeeally hope you like it, sweetface, because I started writing this when I was still weary of my Andy skills so I hope I did him justice by writing in his POV. Also...I think this is the first Barclay-Wheeler written thing that I've ever posted. So...congrats to me I guess!

I hope whoever also reads this enjoys it, please comment what you think of it! Comments help fuel me and make me feel motivated!

Thank you and enjoy :)

As soon as Andy started waking up, he was aware of his head pounding. 

He was confused as to why he had a huge headache that felt like someone was trying to drill a hole into his brain. But it wasn’t until he became more aware of his scratchy throat when it finally occurred to him what was going on. 

Andy was sick. 

Great. That’s exactly what he needed. 

He had spent nearly two weeks taking care of the boys when they got sick. First Junior and it didn’t take long for him to pass his illness onto Jake since the latter had been determined to also help out his cousin due to Junior not dealing with being sick well. 

They were both doing better now, Junior being completely healthy and Jake still having the occasional cough, but Andy actually thought that he managed to avoid getting sick also. 

That was proven to be entirely false when he woke up with a headache and sore throat. 

Fuck, this was going to suck. 

Andy groaned, the sound not agreeing with his throat and caused him to cough into his fist. Jesus, when was the last time he had been sick? He could barely even remember, but he knew that he took care of himself well enough. Except now he had to take care of the boys and himself. 

It would be fine. He could pretend to be healthy, it wouldn’t be that difficult. He needed to focus on Jake and Junior, he could worry about himself later.

It was proving to be more difficult than he thought, physically pulling his body off of bed when every part of him wanted to just lie down and stay there for the rest of the week. What got Andy to keep going and move his legs out the bedroom door was the thought of having to take care of his boys. 

He definitely didn’t want them to try and cook or anything. Especially Junior. Things tended to be very flammable whenever he was too close to the stove. 

At least Jake was a better cook, but he still wanted to be the one to make meals for them anyway. 

Andy all but stumbled into the kitchen, one hand on his head and his eyes just managing to stay open. The boys weren’t there yet, thankfully. He could still hear them bickering in one of their rooms, just like they do every morning. 

He was pretty sure they got along better when they were fighting than when they were actually being nice to each other. 

Andy leaned his forehead against the refrigerator doors, accepting as much of the coldness as he could against his burning head and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, probably for a minute or maybe even ten minutes, but he pulled himself away and opened his eyes once he heard the familiar footsteps from the chaotic teenagers that he took in. 

“Good morning.” Jake said as he walked into the kitchen, Junior coming in with a “morning, Andy” as well. 

“Mornin’.” Andy responded and tried his hardest not to wince from how scratchy his voice sounded and felt, hoping that it wasn’t noticeable. 

“Dude, why do you sound like how Kyle’s gonna sound like in ten years if she keeps smoking?” Junior asked and yelped quietly under his breath, presumably from Jake nudging his elbow against his cousin, a habit he got into if he was sure that Junior’s words were a little too blunt and mean. 

Apparently, his new “smoker voice” was more noticeable than he realized. 

“I just woke up, kid, not everyone sounds great when they first wake up.” Andy told him, keeping his back turned to the boys as he opened the fridge door to grab the milk and eggs so he could make pancakes, something he did every Saturday. 

“I mean, you do sound…off.” Jake chimed in this time and even though he wasn’t looking at the kids, Andy knew could practically feel them staring at him. 

“I don’t sound off, this is how I normally sound.” He insisted, swallowing a few times in a pitiful attempt to soothe his sore throat, which felt like he was swallowing glass, as he went over to one of the cabinets and grabbed a bowl. 

“We know how you usually sound, short stack. You having a gravelly smoker voice is definitely new.” Junior said, somehow not earning an elbow nudge from Jake. 

Andy turned his head to shoot Junior a glare for the short comment. The glare must’ve looked pathetic because both of the teenager’s eyebrows scrunched together in concern so he quickly turned his attention back to the pancakes he was trying to make. 

“Are you okay, Andy?” Jake asked him, a worried tone in his voice. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” He reassured Jake in a—hopefully—convincing manner. He wasn’t quite sure if it worked, but he hoped so. 

Andy closed his eyes in an attempt calm the raging headache that was growing by the minute. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes when he cracked one of the eggs. 

“Uh…Andy?” 

“Hm?” 

“You just cracked the egg into the sink…the bowl is behind you.”

Andy opened his eyes and sure enough, he realized that he had indeed cracked the egg into the sink, judging by the almost sickening yellow yolk that was staring up at him. He rubbed his forehead with one hand and dropped the egg shells into the sink, grabbing another egg and turning around to face the bowl. 

“Mhm, yeah. I knew that. Was just…testing to see if the egg was still good.” He lied, trying once again to sound convincing but knew that the boys weren’t buying it. 

“Andy, you’re an even shittier liar than Jake and that’s definitely saying something.” Junior bluntly told him, which prompted another elbow to his ribs from Jake and he shot his cousin a deadly glare. Then Junior turned his attention back to the adult, squinting for a moment before his eyes widened with realization. “Oh, shit…you’re sick, aren’t you?”

“No, ‘m not sick.” Andy denied and looked away from Junior’s piercing stare. 

Then his body decided to betray him, quickly burying his face into the crook of his elbow as he sneezed harshly three times in a row. Andy sneezed so hard he nearly doubled over, his back aching in the process, but he’d die before admitting that and dealing with another joke about him being old from the boys. 

No one said anything for a moment before Jake broke the silence. “Yeah, you’re definitely sick.” 

Junior suddenly nudged his cousin’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Good job, Jake, you gave Andy your disease.” 

Jake gave Junior an incredulous look. “I gave him my disease? You were sick first and then got me sick, you jackass!” 

“Enough!” Andy stopped the fight that was bound to break out between the cousins by raising his voice. It succeeded, but the adult nearly winced again from the headache his own damn voice gave him. He still swallowed what was left of his pride, quickly wiping his nose on his sleeve before straightening up. “I’m not sick. I’m just tired. I’m fine.” 

For a moment, the boys didn’t look convinced at all. They just stared at him, eyebrows raised until Junior sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “You’re right. I’m sure you aren’t sick. You probably just didn’t get enough sleep.” He said in such a casual tone that it made Andy raise an eyebrow this time. 

“Uh huh…yeah.” 

“Right,” Junior took a few steps closer until they were only a couple feet apart, “that’s exactly what’s going on, it makes total sense.” He then put his hand on Andy’s cheek, patting it a couple times almost goodheartedly before whirling his head toward Jake. “He has a fever, definitely sick.” 

Oh, that little shit! Andy cursed mentally. 

He should’ve known that the most mischievous of the two kids he adopted had a trick up his sleeve, he always did. 

“I knew it was only a matter of time before he got sick.” Jake said while standing up, shaking his head and observing the grown man more. 

“Kids, I am fine!“ Andy tried to convince them but his shitty lies fell upon deaf ears, Junior’s hand moving to the back of his shoulder and gently pushing him out of the kitchen. 

“Yeah right, you seriously are a worse liar than Jake.” Junior scoffed and ignored his cousin’s “hey!” at the slight jab toward him while the latter grabbed his sleeve and joined in on tugging the adult toward his bedroom. 

Andy knew that the little shits weren’t going to be listening to him at this point, so he just gave up. At least, that’s what he told himself. He really was exhausted and every part of him was screaming to just lie down and fall asleep. 

He didn’t even bother trying to hold his ground and stop the boys from dragging him back to his bedroom. Andy knew that it wouldn’t work to begin with—damn those boys for being already taller than he was—so he continued stumbling over his own feet until they finally got to his room. 

“Okay, get in bed, Andy.” Jake said stubbornly, lightly pushing him onto his bed. 

Andy sat on the bed before adjusting himself to start lying down, having almost no energy to continue arguing with the boys. The cousins got to work pulling the blankets up to Andy’s shoulders, finally getting the adult to protest. 

“You-you two really don’t need to do all this—” 

“Andy, I will punch your lights out to make sure you rest if I have to. Don’t test me.” Junior threatened the man while practically tucking him in, Jake finally not nudging his cousin despite his almost terrifying warning. 

It seemed as if, for once, they were both in agreement. 

Great, he was being bullied by two teenagers. 

Andy opened his mouth to speak but instead began coughing severely into his fist. Each painful sounding cough was enough to make his lungs ache and his back to feel like he was being stabbed. He wasn’t sure how long he was coughing for, not until he was able to feel Junior’s hand patting his back to ease his coughing and then Jake pressing a glass of water to his hands so he could drink it. 

When did he get a glass of water? 

Andy’s coughs began to slow down so he was able to drink his water, carefully sipping it. The cool liquid helped refresh his burning esophagus but still brought a painful feeling in the back of his throat. However, it was enough for his coughs to subside, barely being able to keep his eyes open anymore. 

“Just go to sleep, Andy. You took care of us, now it’s our turn to take care of you.” Jake said softly now, to probably not aggravate Andy’s headache, taking the glass away and putting it on the nightstand beside him. 

He finally allowed himself to rest his head on his pillow, almost melting from the feeling. His body started to relax, even though he was shivering from his fever, and despite every part of him wanting to argue, to insist that he was fine and that he didn’t need to be taken care of by his own kids just because he was sick, he didn’t anymore. Andy was just too fucking exhausted at this point. 

Just before he could drift off, he heard Junior whisper a “G’night, mom” before he finally succumbed to the sleep he so desperately needed. 

At some point, Andy woke up. He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but the sun was no longer glaring through his window. In fact, the room was almost dark now. 

He realized that there was a damp rag on his forehead, reaching one hand up to pull it aside and drop it beside himself on the bed. His throat was still sore, body aching, and head pounding, but he had to admit, he did feel a bit better. He was no longer shaking with the chills, thankfully, the fever must’ve broken. 

Andy tried to lift his head to see what time it was on the clock before Junior suddenly poked his head into the bedroom and grinned. 

“Oh good, you’re awake!” He said enthusiastically before calling out to his cousin. “Jake! Sleeping Beauty has risen from his slumber!” 

The adult rolled his eyes at the very inaccurate comparison while Jake quickly rushed into the room, both cousins now almost awkwardly yet worryingly hovering over him. 

Jesus, was he like this when the boys were sick a couple weeks ago? 

“How long have I been out?” Andy asked, his voice still grating but not as painful as before. 

The teens paused before Jake smiled delicately. “…nine hours.” 

Andy’s eyes widened. “Nine hours—?!” He started to exclaim before coughing. Just like before, nine hours ago apparently, Jake helped him drink the now completely full glass of water until he was able to stop his coughing fit. 

“I mean, it wasn’t consecutive,” Junior ended up correcting with his hands on his hips, “you kept going in and out of consciousness.” 

“I was?” 

“You don’t remember?” Jake asked and the adult shook his head. “Huh…that kind of makes sense. You were really out of it. Delirious and shit, mumbling too.” 

“Try enunciating next time, so we could further understand the ramblings of a mad man.” Junior threw in with a teasing smile, ignoring the glare from his cousin. 

Andy rubbed a hand over his face, trying to process all of this. “Yeah, I…don’t remember anything. Last thing I remember was you two putting me to bed. And that was it.” 

“I mean, I guess it’s not that surprising. You did have a really bad fever,” Jake said before reaching out and placing the back of his hand to Andy’s forehead, then pulling it away, “Which has gone down now, thank god.” 

“That’s definitely good because your fever did get pretty bad. We were worried that we were gonna have to drag your ass to your car and then I’d have to personally drive you to the hospital. Or worse,” Junior paused, most likely for dramatic effect, “call Aunt Kyle.” 

“Thank you for not doing either of those things.” Andy truly was grateful that the boys were able to lower his fever so neither of those options happened. He sure as hell didn’t trust Junior behind the wheel, the kid enjoyed speed far too much and then all three of them would be in the hospital. 

As for Kyle…he’d rather not deal with her yelling about how he should’ve called her because he was sick. She’d be far more overprotective over him than the boys were being, so he would worry about her later. 

Jake moved to sit down beside Andy on the bed, Junior doing the same on Andy’s opposite side and leaned his back against the wall. “Are you feeling better now, Andy?” Jake asked, his eyes still laced with concern. 

Andy looked at the boys and nodded slightly, cracking a small smile. “Yeah, I’m doing better. Thanks,” he paused for a moment, “you two really didn’t need to take care of me like this, I would’ve been fine on my own.” 

“That’s it, I’m gonna punch him.” 

“No, Junior, you’ll make his headache worse.” 

Thank you Jake for assuring that Junior won’t punch me just because of my headache. Andy thought to himself sarcastically. 

“Look, all I’m just saying is…” the man thought about the correct way to phrase it so he wouldn’t earn a punch from one of his kids, who certainly looked eager to deliver at the moment, “I’m the adult. You two are the children—I know you’re teenagers, don’t give me that look, just roll with me here. I’m supposed to take care of you. Not the other way around.” 

“But you always take care of us,” Junior reminded him, “every single day. Especially when we were sick. Did your brain get fried so much from your fever that you don’t remember?” The last comment finally attained a nudge to his side by Jake’s elbow, leaving Junior to scowl at his cousin. 

“Look, what Junior was trying to say before his asshole alert went off was that it isn’t a crime for us to take care of you. You always take care of us and this time, it was our turn to take care of you. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Jake translated for his cousin as Junior nodded along in agreement. 

Andy supposed, if he thought about it, the boys were right. Everyday, his sole focus was on taking care of the kids. When they got sick, those feelings were enhanced. He rubbed Junior’s back when he coughed so hard that he threw up, he lifted Jake’s head so he could drink water because he was too physically drained to do it on his own. 

From the moment he had the Wheeler cousins, his goal was set to being there for and helping them. Their previous fathers certainly never understood the role that Andy took on, so he made sure to give all the love and support that he had to the boys. 

So maybe, it would be okay to let Jake and Junior take care of him while he’s sick. 

Just this once. 

“Thank you, you little shits.” Andy said to them with a fond smile. 

“You’re welcome, mom.” The cousins said simultaneously, something that he was sure that they picked up from Glen and Glenda. 

Great, he had to deal with another set of twins. Except they weren’t actually twins, just cousins that were born a few weeks apart. 

“You hungry?” Jake asked. “I have chicken soup on the stove, I just need to heat it up since I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.” 

Andy nodded with a smile. “Yeah, I’m kind of hungry, thanks.” He said as he tried to sit up. Both boys got into action in helping him, propping a few pillows behind him so he could comfortably lean back against the wall. 

The adult knew that the kids picked that up from him, remembering clearly that this was how he would sit them up so they could eat when they were sick. 

Jake left the room to get started on the soup and Junior scooted closer to Andy, resting his head on his shoulder. “You two have eaten, right?” Andy asked, already growing concerned at the mere thought that the boys became so focused on taking care of him that they forgot to feed themselves. 

“Yeah, yeah, we ate.” Junior quickly reassured him. “We’re running on Jake’s pancakes and last night’s leftover lasagna. His pancakes aren’t quite as good as yours, but they made do. And we ate an entire bag of party size Fritos chips.” Junior paused, now bashful. “Okay, I lied, I ate the entire huge ass bag of chips, not Jake.” 

“Good. I’m glad you’re well fed, kiddo.” Andy said quickly, playfully nudging his cheek to the top of the teenager’s head, hearing his kid giggle. 

He knew that Junior still struggled with food at times and couldn’t care less that he ate an entire party size bag full of chips. The kids could eat as much as they wanted, they deserved it. 

Besides, Andy bought those chips knowing how much Junior loved them. It was about time that he went to town on them. 

They sat there in peaceful silence for a few minutes, the silence occasionally being interrupted by the adult coughing, before Jake came in with the soup. The boys started conversing while Andy slowly ate, listening to them joke around and squabble with each other with a smile. 

Maybe being sick and having my sons around isn’t so bad. He thought to himself as he watched Jake and Junior. 

After a moment of watching them endearingly, Andy smiled more. 

Yeah, this really wasn’t so bad after all.

[iwritesickfic]

Can I please have 😣 and 💜?

of course, anon! the prompt is scratchy throat and nuzzles. I'm still taking prompts now for anyone wanting to send any in!

As Seamus waits backstage, his heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat. Any minute, the show will be over, Theo is going to walk down the hallway, and they're going to see each other for the first time in two months. It's a complete surprise - he flew out for Theo's birthday.

Just as Seamus's nerves are bordering on unbearable, Theo turns down the hallway, flanked by a crowd of crew and production staff. He looks exhausted, which is understandable after a two hour stadium show, and they're all talking at what seems like a mile a minute. Theo's nodding, sipping from a water bottle, but he stops dead in his tracks when he looks up and sees Seamus.

Then he's running at him, slamming into his chest and wrapping his arms around Seamus's neck. Seamus laughs, almost falling backward from the force of it.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Theo whispers against his skin, and Seamus laughs again.

"Hey," he says, and Theo sighs heavily. His face is now tucked into the crook of Seamus's neck, and his grip doesn't seem to be letting up any time soon. He doesn't usually show so much affection, especially publicly. Except when he's not feeling well. "Happy to see me?"

"Shut up," he mumbles, and Seamus can tell now that he's not really whispering at all - his voice is completely shot. That'll happen after a show sometimes, but not this bad. They stand there in silence for a while, rocking back and forth, clutching each other. "God. Fuck. I... Fuck, I missed you so much," he says.

"I know. I missed you too," Seamus whispers back. Theo's skin feels overly warm, but it could be that he's coming off of such a long show. Still, when they pull apart, Seamus kisses his cheek gently. As he pulls back he runs his hand through Theo's sweat damp hair. "You have a fever?"

Theo's whole body slumps, the light leaving his eyes.

"I don't know," Theo says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Probably."

"Does it have to do with -?" Theo cuts him off.

"My voice sounding like garbage? Yes. It does," he mumbles, leaning back into Seamus's chest and nuzzling his face into his neck once again. He takes a deep breath, and Seamus rubs his back gently. "I've had laryngitis for like two weeks now."

"You shouldn't be singing if you have laryngitis, T," Seamus says, and Theo huffs out a laugh.

"They would move my corpse around like a puppet to avoid cancelling a show if they needed to. I'm on so much fucking prednisone that I-" he cuts himself off, and when they pull apart again, he's forcing a smile. "It's fine. I'm fine."

He must not want the crew or producers to hear him complaining. Still, taking steroids to bring down the vocal cord swelling is just about the worst possible solution Seamus can think of.

"Let's go back to the hotel, yeah?" Seamus asks gently, and Theo sighs, nodding. In the car, he falls asleep with his head on Seamus's shoulder.

[bloodredx]

Day 30: Halloween

Bones puffed on his cigarette as he leaned against a wall. Old town Reedsdale was busy tonight, kids running around the festival grounds in bright colors and garish clothes, adults were in masks and long robes. Teenagers were chatting amongst themselves as they quickly shoved various materials into a sacks. Probably setting up for a hell of a prank. At least, Bones knew that’s what he would’ve done at their age. Bones adjusted the black cloak over his shoulders. His own face was painted lightly with old marks. Runes. Those that would otherwise raise eyebrows in the light of day would be fine tonight. The festivities would allow for it. For even if Reedsdale was one of the last standing places that hadn’t struck their mages with the yokes and collars of serving “schools” or “towers,” it was still quite taboo to roll around as one openly. At least, all nights except for tonight.

Tonight, the city was Esc’lyr’s Ballroom, and all the citizens were mages, monsters, and fairies, for at least one evening. The goddess of wind, time, and most importantly magic decreed her celebrations be made in full spirit of those things forbidden on most other nights. No one would look twice at a casual sparkle or odd twitch of the finger. No one would second guess a drink with a light shimmer and the warmth of a good feeling in their throat. It gave Bones a much needed sense of ease. Truth be told, most residents figured out who to turn to for a potion or a charm on this night. It was one of the last ways that information could be passed freely.

Blowing out a puff of smoke, Bones smiled gently. He felt like himself again, like he didn’t need to hide away so much. Each kid that ran by him, he slipped a piece of candy into their pocket with a wave of his finger and a soft glimmer of purple sparkles. Each one giggled with delight upon finding their treat a few steps away. Content, and now finished with his smoke, Bones stepped away from the wall and returned to his little stand. A few bottles with elegantly tied bows around their necks lined the single wooden counter. Each a different color, each with a label that described directions in his scratchy handwriting. Most were just libations for tonight. Something to make you feel good or get in good with a lover. But a few were intended as salves or quick repairs to problems. Things his momma used to make.

A large stack of money slapping against the counter woke him from his thoughts. “I’ll take one of each.”

Bones snorted, recognizing the voice. “Ain’t gonna work on ya, love.” His reflective, silver eyes bouncing moonlight back onto Serena’s cheek. “You’d need to be alive for that.”

She looked lovely, dressed in a scarlet gown, one perfect to go dancing in later that evening. Makeup around her eyes gave the impression of a mask, without the disdainful need to wear one. She looked gorgeous with one of her deep red roses pinned to the side of her hair. But her red painted lips frowned slightly at his words. “What makes you believe I would drink them?”

He shook his head chuckling more. “Now there’s a thought. You, drinkin’ that.” He leaned on the counter with a grin. “I ain’t takin’ your money, doll. I got too much pride for that.”

“Hmm.” She considered that a moment. “You’ve mentioned that before. I don’t doubt the earnestness. Though something in your heartbeat tells me you don’t want me poring over this to find your secrets.”

Now he broke out into a roar of laughter, startling a woman at the booth next to him who nearly dropped a tray of candied apples. “C’mon darlin’!” He raised a brow playfully. “You think you can pull out all the mysteries of this world? All the secrets outta lil old me?”

She crossed her arms, looking at him with a mix of disgust and amusement. Words didn’t need to cut her intentions to his ear. A cheeky grin crossed his face, as his voice whispered in her ear without him moving his lips. “I’d like to see ya try.”

“Is that a challenge?” The Lady responded darkly, though the sparkle hadn’t yet left her eye.

His voice floated to her other ear, a light breeze coursing through the plaza that shuffled the ribbons and banners on all the other stalls. “A request even. If you’d dare.”

Bones declared victory internally as she turned her head away, the faintest linger of blush coating her cheeks. Her deflection echoed like music in the night. “Let me buy the rest of them, we have to leave soon, lest we be late for our venue.”

Standing quickly and a little too fluidly to be natural, Bones took his proper place at her side and his voice returning to the confines of his throat. “Hm, I could part with them for the rest of the crowd. Can’t have you late now, can we?”

“Very well.” She conceded softly, wrapping a hand around his arm.

Turning to the apple stall owner, Bones smiled gently as they passed. “Ma’am, the rest of them bottles are free to take. They’ve been paid for. Y’all make sure they get passed ‘round tonight.”

The woman looked confused, but only nodded in agreement. Content with that as an answer, Bones led his love down the crowded alleyway, making sure to take efforts to enjoy the city’s mood. This air was only so thick once a year. He needed every moment to savor it.

(OC-tober prompts by @oc-tober2023 can be found here.)

[bittenmoths]

there's  always  been  something  wrong  with  june,  from  the  moment  of  her  birth;  her  mother's  screams  becoming  her  own  -  siphoning  life  like  gas  from  a  tank.  she  thinks  she's  inherited  her  mother's  anger;  the  first  and  final  gift  imparted  on  her.  nothing  but  rage;  it's  her  first  emotion,  the  one  she  remembers  feeling  so  vividly.  the  scratchiness  of  a  throat  screamed  raw,  the  eyes  of  a  father  who  refused  to  look  at  her  straight  on.  sisters  who  could  never  love  her,  not  after  what  she'd  done.  there's  always  been  something  wrong  with  june;  anger  so  bright  and  so  prominent,  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  before  all  else.  she  doesn't  remember  the  last  time  she  was  sad  -  just  scared.  scared  and  too  many  miles  away.  scared  and  without  the  words  to  express  it,  without  knowing  how  to  even  if  she  had.  she  isn't  scared  this  time;  but  her  anger  doesn't  come  from  pure  rage  either,  or  from  her  own  circumstance.  it  comes  out  of  concern  -  dark  eyes  instantly  drawn  to  the  dark  shadows  of  selin's  face  as  the  light  flickers  on.  anger  from  failure,  from  remorse.  june  can  feel  her  hands  clench  from  where  they  lay  still  over  duvet,  over  selin's  now  -  awake  body.  she  should've  been  there,  at  redstone  -  fuck,  she  should've  been  there.  instead  she  was  playing  cops  and  robbers  with  kieran,  chasing  some  loser  in  a  mask  only  to  end  up  empty  -  handed.  an  apology  lingers  in  the  back  of  her  throat,  and  june  swallows.  "jesus  fucking  -  christ,  yeah,  talk  about  fucking  -  hurt,  selin  -  look  at  you!  you  look  like  -  shit,  actually.  holy  fuck."  they're  heavier  swears  than  usual,  breath  laced  with  liquor  as  june  peers  closer,  hand  traveling  to  grasp  at  selin's  jaw,  shifting  her  face  closer  towards  the  light.  it's  an  almost  -  gentle  touch,  wrinkles  sprouting  from  where  her  brows  are  furrowed  deep.  at  least  it  looks  well  -  cared  for;  no  doubt  taylan's  work.  her  stomach  churns.  "do  you  know  who  fucking  -  decked  you?  'cos  i'll  fucking  -  go  after  them.  i'll  kill  them  dead,  sel."  june's  made  enough  threats  in  their  life  that  it's  easy  to  tell  by  now  when  they're  empty  or  fully  -  loaded.  this  time  -  it's  somewhere  in  between.  she  exhales  so  sharp,  so  sudden  -  an  attempt  at  reeling  it  all  in  before  she  crawls  into  the  newly  -  created  space  in  selin's  bed.

"tomorrow  -  i'm  going  to  fucking...  kill  them  tomorrow,"  it's  a  half  -  grumble  beneath  her  breath,  more  concerned  with  staring  holes  into  selin  -  eyes  still  sharp,  still  alert.  searching  for  signs  of  injury.  she  hadn't  always  cared  this  much;  but  now  it  haunts  her.  her  own  personal  shining  twin  haunting.  the  angel  and  devil  on  her  shoulder.  seeing  selin  hurt  is  akin  to  seeing  a  wounded  bird,  all  broken  wings  and  shed  feathers.  except  it's  not  her  jaws  that  selin's  caught  between.  june  feels  -  possessive,  suddenly.  mildly  delirious  with  it.  "i  can  out  kill  a  killer,  especially  some  pussy  who  can't  even  show  his  face.  probably  ugly  as  shit  under  that  mask.  i'd  totally  rip  them  a  new  one.  don't  -  get  all  fucking,  concerned  about  me,  sel.  i'm  fine.  you're  the  fucking  -  fragile  one  here.  gonna  start  wrapping  you  in  -  that  bubble  shit. seriously. if anything, the killer should be concerned about me."

selin should have known , really , when someone shakes her awake , hard enough to rouse her from a pain - killer induced slumber , whose face she'd find peering down at her . she should have known , and still , she jumps , legs kicking at the air , arms reaching out in the darkness like they'd be capable of protecting herself from some invisible enemy . for a moment she's back at redstone — the bar too packed , the air too thick , everyone's panic morphing into something tangible before it morphed into an elbow to the face . and panic is what she feels again , eyes wide as saucers ( or one of them , anyway , the other still tight and protesting ) , a wild anxiety swimming below the depths of her green irises like some prey animal caught in a trap , the reaction something unusual ; or at least selin could have said it was , before daniela disappeared . a month and a half could change a lot . an extra bolt on the front door , a concoction of melatonin and magnesium before bed so not to wake at all the things that really do go bump in the night , a tendency to find faces in shadows the way she hadn't done since she was a child . and the new lamp on her nightstand , the one she flicks on with her still trembling hands . one , two , three blinks is what it takes . cast in her lamp's rosy glow , june's face is easily recognizable , even with the blurry vision coming out of her bruised eye . and the relief — that's instant , too . safe . she felt safe . it was a word that most couldn't understand , or at least not why selin would ever attribute such an adjective to a person like june . juniper ridley liao is like a cat , classmates used to spit in warning . all scratches and hisses , all sneaky swipes . loving no one ; only purring to get what they want . she could still remember that first awful stretch of time when taylan had left , how it felt like trying to use a limb you no longer had . for the very first time , she was walking through life without her shadow — and then june showed up at her door . and they really were like a cat then , lingering just out of reach , still baring claws and teeth but no longer meant to keep people away , or at least not selin . june who would wait outside for her shift at the grocery store to end . june who would follow her home . june who would climb in through her window . june who would help herself to selin's things without asking permission first . june who curled up , so very human , nothing at all like a cat or a wild thing , when selin had first offered a warm , empty bed . she thought she'd lost her shadow , but really , she'd only gained a new one .

" it's the extra - strength tylenol doing it's job , " she finally mutters , reaching up to rub the sleep from her eyes before wincing as fingers come into contact with raised skin . it wasn't anything serious , her eye . taylan had reassured her — and considering his expertise in the area , she was inclined to believe him . still , it fucking hurt , and the fact that what felt like the entire town was there when it happened , meant that somewhere in the chaos enough people had probably witnessed her injury , which could only mean one thing ; her parents would find out . the thought's almost enough to send her sliding into her duvet , as if the cocoon of cotton could protect her from what she was already sure would be an interaction she would have taken two elbows to the face just to avoid . " what's wrong with my couch ? " it's genuine puzzlement , brain still foggy , trying to hold onto a thought akin to trying to pull a single strand of hair out of a pool of honey . still , she scoots over easily at the command , always so obedient , like it's ingrained in her very core . " what time is it , anyway ? " head whips around , searching for her phone , only to find it missing from its usual spot connected to its charger . had she missed placed it ? the night felt impossibly long then , memories fuzzy like static from an old tv . so much had happened . and then , a thought dawns , and she smacks the other's shoulder . " — did you fucking walk here by yourself ? they're looking for a fucking killer , june . what if they're still out there ? you could have gotten hurt ! "

[im-not-a-simp-i-swear]

"PLEASE JUST GO TO BED.."

Scenario: lucifer gets sick but refuses to rest because of all the work he has to do

(Im sick as of writing this but just like the scenario, i have work to do..)

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Today was a long day for everybody in the devildom, infact it was long enough to lead to almost everyone going to sleep was nightime arrived, everyone except one stubborn busy demon.

The avatar of pride could not go to sleep now, he had alot of paperwork to finish for tommorrow for Diavolo, he had been working all day and only got to eat some food thanks to you bringing it over to him. Even then Lucifer didnt bother taking breaks, he'd only get up from his office for some coffee.

As he checked every paper and did his job he noticed his eyes feeling itchy and his throat feeling scratchy. Not much was thought about this since he hadnt really been paying attention to his needs today. He took a sip of his coffee and didnt think much of it, but then the itchiness came back and he was having a hard time breathing properly. A cough came out of nowhere and it was then that the demon realized what was about to happen. He couldnt get sick tommorrow.

Seeing as he was almost done however (and as the household was completely quite) he decided to call it a day and go to bed. It was only a couple of pages that needed some signing left so he decided to do so tommorrow before handing it over to the prince tommorrow.

He got up and head to his room, but not before drinking some water and taking a pill to help out. "I'll be fine tommorrow" he thought, plus even if he ended up sick he would still be able to work, its not like he has ever gotten bad enough to die hahaha...

.

.

.

A few voices came from the hallways that were loud enough to wake up the eldest. Lucifer opened his eyes but they quickly closed afterwards. He then felt like his whole body was being dragged back to bed as he attempted to get up. Did he stayed up that late? But he still manages to wake up early anyways.

Then it came, a noise he did NOT wish to hear.. a cough. In fact the cough was bad enough to leave his throat aching, to make matters worse he felt his nose runny and a headache bad enough to kill a man.

By pure magic he finally got up and went to get ready for today, still the hot shower and light breakfast didnt help him at all. His entire body felt like it was cooking and he really just couldnt stay standing for long enough. His brothers and even you could tell something was off, but when asked if he was alright he would put on his mask and answer yes.

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In the council room Lucifer was finishing his work, it was just a few pages left anyways. Problem was it felt like there was more work than he remembered... maybe he didnt count correctly last night? No no no he did find the exact same amount of yesterday's work missing to be finished. He took a heavy breath as he felt again so tired and he rubbed his eyes to stay open and to stop the aching. He cant be sick right now, there is so much to do today! If he didnt do it then who would??

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Class felt even longer than finishing that work. He ended up scibbling onto the missing paperwork just so he could make it to class in time. His head was still pounding, and his body felt like it was going to shut off at any moment now. He could barely understand what the teacher was saying without hearing an annoying echo in the background. He had tried to drink some water before class but he couldnt do so in time, he drink some now but his body was aching hard enough for him to not wanna move.

You and Mammon just so happened to be in the same class at that moment and you could tell that something was wrong. Mammon did so too, and while he was convinced that lucifer would just give you two the same answer as this morning, you two still decided to ask him after class if he was ok again.

You saw him leaving down the left hallway so you called him out. He didnt turn arounf however.. you tried again with the same result. Third time was fortunately the charm, however he didnt seem happy to see you two.

"You sure you're good?" Asked Mammon standing behind you. "Yeah you seemed pretty distracted during class today" you add to his question.

"I said im.. fine" he took a moment to finish his response, his headache was only getting more and more worse. You placed a hand on his shoulder and asked if he was sure, "its ok if you dont feel well, Diavolo's event is later today anyways and there is enough time for you to at least take a nap".

"No, really im great," he said still avoiding eye contact with you two. This wasnt the lucifer you knew so you decided to lift his face and confirm his words. His eyes had heavier bags than usual and his looked awfully pale, yes more than he usually gets, the only parts of his face that wasnt snow white was his nose and cheeks, which were very red. "Lucifer you're burning" you tell him as you feel his forehead with your backpalm.

Mammon continued to stand behind you but was now more concerned than before. "MC im fine" lucifer tells to you again, his voice sounding more affirmative than before. Still Lucifer was your friend (probably more depending who is reading this), and you couldnt bear to see him try to work to death.

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The event Diavolo had been planning all week was just about to start, the prince seemed really excited as well as some of the brothers. Before officially starting however the prince wished to check on everyone one last time. He had to make sure you were all prepared. "Beel, belphie, do you two have everything ready?" He starts checking. The twins nodded. "Satan, MC, Asmo?" You and the forth born nodded as well. "Mammon, levi?" They responded with a yes. "Luc...ifer? Are you alright? You seem.. tired" asks the prince as he sees his right hand man starring at the horizon, at this poitn everyone could tell he wasnt well. He just nodded as a response as well.

"Lucifer you do have to participate if youre feeling bad, its ok" says Simeon as he leans slightly forward, with the younger angel behind him. Lucifer doesnt respond this time, instead his breathing becomes unsteady again and he proceeds to lose his balance. Its a good thing that you were next to him or else he wouldnt plopped to the floor. He tries to say something bad he felt so ass he couldnt anymore.

As he passes out everyone starts to panic. You could only carry him in your arms for so long before Mammon and Beel walked up to help you lay him down. You sat next to his head to hold it correctly so when he wakes it his neck doesnt feel sore. Simeon and Solomon also walked up to see what to do. Diavolo however would end up being the one to come up with a plan on what to do.

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Everything seemed blurry as Lucifer finally opens his eyes again. He still didnt feel any better but at least he was in his room again. "Wha... where.. what happened?" He asks to himself. You walk in however with a wet warm towel and answered his question. "You passed out Luci, you seem to have caught a nasty fevet" you tell him.

You place your hands on his shoudler and order him to lay down so you can place the towel on his head. You have to use the pact between you two so he can actually get better becuase (knowing him) he would just get up again and try to get back to work. "What about the.." he tries to ask but you interupt him, "the others have it undercontrol, but it will end early so your brothers can help out". Its funny how you manage to respond his questions without him even finishing them, but it is very frustrating to have to use your pact so he can rest. Lucifer just refuses to stay in bed doing nothing, he has work to do.

"Lucifer-"

"MC i cant stay here i'm very busy today"

"But Diavolo ended up giving you the rest of thr week off until you get better"

"Im already feeling amazing, thanks for the help but-" just then he feels his body give up on him again and he falls to the floor.

"I.." you sigh before activating the pact again, "lucifer please just go to bed.." you tell him.

With that you manage to get him back to bed and you decide to keep an eye on him the remaining of today. There are moments when he tries to get up and leave but you manage to catch him just in time. You also make sure he eats well and takes his medecine so he can get better. Once nightime arrives again the others arrive and decide to give you a hand as well.

Thanks to teamwork and ALOT of patience with the eldest Lucifer finally gets better. It did took the rest of the week for him to get better but whats important is that the avatar of pride isnt sick anymore, and he even thanks you and the rest of the gang for helping him :)

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Sorry if this is messy but i really do feel like trash right now so i wrote this mess, depending on this post i might to a sequel or write another fic where the brothers dont have MC to help out, it would be a fun crack fic :)

[bunkerbucky]

Casual Sabotage *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Reader is hit with sex pollen. Except she doesn't crave her boyfriend, Steve Rogers. No, it's his best friend, Bucky Barnes, that she wants inside of her. Bucky, in the beginning, is a good bro and refuses. But due to the fact she sucks his dick so good he kinda, sorta, loses that restraint and just fucks her regardless of who she belongs to.

Rating: Explicit [+18]

Warnings: Sex pollen= Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Rough blow-job, rough oral-sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, breeding kink, size kink- Bucky has a big dick in this lmao, choking and biting kink, infidelity; Reader cheats on Steve. 

TW: Dub-con- Reader is under sex pollen, so she actually cannot give consent and also because Bucky is so resistant in the beginning. It turns consensual on Bucky's part, he gives in to the temptation. But, obviously, reader is still influenced so... the lines are blurred.

Yourself and Bucky had searched the Hydra base from tippy-top to bottom. There was nothing out of the ordinary, which infuriated you a little. With the amount of recon work you both had to do, the long nights of watching the agents coming and going, you felt like you both deserved a small win, at least.

A long sigh escaped from your lips as Bucky's fingers typed furiously on the computers keyboard, a USB stick in hand just in case he found something exciting. Your arms were crossed over your chest, eyes scanning around the bases' security room, roaming the shelves and cabinets that held nothing of importance. A week of nothing, you wanted to cry.

"Hmm," Bucky low hum attracted your attention, "It says there's a basement to this building, we haven't checked that out." His steel eyes look over the screen and at you, you respond with a shrug of your shoulders. "We've got two hours before the cavalry arrives to pick us up, let's explore and see if we can obtain something to keep from Rogers from complainin'"

You giggle slightly at Bucky's comment, nodding in agreement with him. Steve would have a lot to say if you went back empty-handed, especially since he sent you both rather than himself. But you couldn't lie and say the thought of seeing Steve after so long didn't excite you. You had missed your boyfriend dearly, you weren't allowed on missions together since finally making things official. Work ethics and all that jazz.

Instead, you and Bucky had started to partner up, Steve didn't trust anyone but himself, and Bucky, to keep an eye out for you. Who better to watch over his best girl than his best friend, plus Bucky was your friend before you got with Steve.

"What if we go down there and there's a great, big monster waiting for us?" Sliding into the small elevator beside Barnes.

Bucky looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, "Then I'll be throwing you out as a distraction, so I can press the elevator door button to leave."

You both ended up laughing at his response, although when the doors finally did open and reveal a darkened basement layer... there was a moment of silence, you both side-eyeing one another at the lack of sound and movement.

Bucky stepped off first and the automatic lighting triggered him to pull his gun from its holster, his reflexes sharp and fast. You step off and follow Bucky down the hall towards double doors, the room through those doors was abandoned and huge. Desks with old computers, all smashed and out of use. Stacks of files and paper scattered on desks and the floor. Despite the mess, it all looks really promising, there had to be something amongst the chaos.

You both separate to cover more ground, you only had a limited time before you had to leave. You looked through paper and files, shuffling through stacks of meaningless bullshit. Hydra certainly kept a record of everything, including all the worthless crap. You wondered if they actually printed this stuff to lead you guys on wild goose chases like this, to make sure you were distracted with searching for something important amongst all their bullshit.

You ended up in the far back of the room, a small desk area had random empty vials littered across it. Files labelled in Russian, that you couldn't translate very well.

"Hey, Buck," You called over your shoulder as you lifted an empty vial, a cork tightly shoved in the top; curious. "Think I might've found something."

The vial itself was black, not black liquid, the vial was just black. It didn't feel weighted, it didn't feel like anything was moving inside of it. So, curiosity got the best of you because you yanked the cork off the vial. Black smoke puffed out and into your face causing you to inhale and go into a coughing fit. Waving your arms in front of your face, coughing at the inhalation of whatever was inside that vial.

It smelt like... old leather, peppermint toothpaste and...something else, like a deep musk. Odd.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bucky suddenly appeared at your side, a hand placed on your back and eyeing you with concern. He then grabbed the vial from your hand, it was clear and no longer black. "What happened?"

Your coughing had subsided, you felt fine. "I think there was some kind of smoke or whatever in there, I don't know. The black stuff just burst out, I was stupid-"

"Damn, right." Bucky looked mad, which was a given. "Hydra is known for making gas poisons, Y/N. That was a rookie move, never open strange vials." He didn't sound too mad at you, a little more concerned and worried.

You nodded, frowning when feeling the back of your neck sweating. You felt... hot. A sweat was taking over your body, your mouth was getting dry and your mind was going fuzzy. Bucky hadn't noticed, his eyes cast down to the Russian files on the desk, his hand flipping through the old pages and taking the information in with wide eyes. You briefly wondered if whatever is written in that file had anything to do with that vial.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered.

"What?" Your throat was scratchy, your breathing was becoming laboured and your palms were sweaty.

You didn't feel hot, though. You didn't feel sick either.

"Well, I'm guessing whatever was in that vial was... to put it plainly, sex pollen. It makes the patient unable to think of anything but sex, all they want and all they feel is lust. It's basically either used to breed or on prisoners- the pain of not getting off thoroughly enough can lead to the patient taking extreme measures: death." He shakes his head, you don't notice the horrified look In his eyes at the thought of maybe it being used on him when under Hydra's control. "You're likely fine, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure," You managed to gasp out, your thighs squeezing together and eyes closed, you wanted to feel embarrassed but you couldn't. "My head is spinning and, fuck, I need to get this off. I feel too hot, I'm burnin' up." Clawing at the collar of your own tact suit, your hands were shaking and you couldn't bring yourself to look at Bucky.

You wanted to look at him though. You knew he was standing close to you because you could smell him, he smelt like the black smoke did. He smelt delicious, intoxicating in the best way. God, you wanted him so badly. You needed him.

"It's going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, we'll get you back to Steve and he can-"

You shook your head and finally pulled the zipper down of your jacket, shrugging the bulletproof material off your shoulders.

"Need you." You managed to mumble out, lifting your gaze to Bucky, who was frowning and shaking his head. "Please, Buck. I need you! I can feel my skin crawling and-I'm in so much pain, please." Your voice a mix between a whine and beg.

"I can't- you're not thinking properly. Steve will be here soon and he can help you, he's your boyfriend, remember?"

You pulled the black, tight sleeved henley from your body and let it drop to the floor, it covered in sweat. You're standing in a sports bra and tact pants, chest heaving as you try to intake gulps of oxygen from your panting. Even with half your clothes off you still felt sweat bead and drip down your skin.

"I can't wait that long," You sniffled but no tears forming. "Please, I want you-I've always wanted you. You read the file, I'm going to die!"

Bucky continued to shake his head. "I won't do that Steve. It says that it took a couple of hours till that point, Steve'll be here soon and I'll explain to him what happened."

You groaned painfully, shaking your own head now. Not understanding why he couldn't just help you now. You were in immense pain and the throbbing heat in your core wasn't letting up.

You didn't want Steve to help you. You didn't need Steve to help you, it wasn't just because he wasn't here. You wanted Bucky. The smell of him, the heat radiating off his body when it was close to yours. You craved for him to touch you, to fuck you. You were sure the moment he touched you that the pain would ease, the flames that were consuming you would simmer down.

And you were certain that he wanted you too.

Taking the initiative you moved closer to Bucky, the short hairs on the back of your neck were drenched in sweat, you could feel it drip down your back. You placed a hand softly on his metal arm, the cool vibranium instantly cooling you down. Bucky let out a shaky breath and looked at you, eyebrows furrowing together as he took in your features. You were sure you could see the fight in his eyes, he wanted to help you. To touch you.

It was frustrating that he wasn't giving in. That he wasn't falling to his desires.

"I won't tell Steve, I promise." You whispered and pressed a kiss to his collar, inhaling his scent and shuddering when it filled your senses. He wasn't pushing you away, but he also wasn't giving in to touching you back. "It can be our little secret. I know you'll make me feel really good, he won't be able to help me like you can."

Her other hand trailed down his chest and stopped at his belt, Bucky was too busy telling her everything he had already been saying. Telling you how you love Steve and Steve loves you. It would break Steve's heart if he found out about this talk from you if he knew what you were saying to Buck. You didn't care, not right now anyway. You had always found Bucky attractive and before getting with Steve you had entertained the thought of Bucky, but he was just getting back his life. A relationship seemed too much for him, well that's what you thought.

You didn't settle for Steve, that was never the case. You love Steve, you know that. But, right now, here with Bucky, you knew that he'd be able to help you with this- more than Steve could. Steve was a peaceful lover, an attentive one. You needed this illness fucked out of you- at least, that's what your hazy brain was telling you.

Your hand slipped under his belt, a wide grin taking over your face at Bucky's shock, words choking out as you wrapped a hand around his dick. A sense of pride coming over you as he began to get hard in your hand, a few quick jerks as started to undo his pants with your free hand. Bucky was stunned into silence and compliance, unable to stop you just from the fact he hadn't been touched like this in a while.

He came to his senses when you noticed you get to your knees, his pants undone and pulled down his muscular thighs. Bucky slapped your hands away and tries to pull his pants back up, but you were putting up quite the fight. You roughly pushed him back, he ended up falling to the ground due to his pants restricting his movements. In the moments he fell down and was trying to figure out what happened, you had pulled down his boxers and gulped dryly at his semi-hard length.

"You're so big," You mumbled before wrapping your lips around the tip, a loud groan echoed through the room from Bucky.

You could feel him growing inside of your mouth as you tried to take more of him down, slobbering up his dick and licking around the shaft. Pulling off to run your tongue around the veins and down to his balls, gently suckling them into your mouth as you jerked his length till it was fully standing erect. You smirked to yourself at all of the noises Bucky was making, a hand being placed on your hair- which normally you hated Steve's hand in your hair, but you'd allow Bucky this time.

"Fuck my throat," spit was around your mouth and down your chin, "fuck my throat with your big cock."

Bucky's eyes were wide and lust-filled, there was still a hesitancy from him. A dilemma going on in that head of his, so you wrapped your lips around his cock again and started to slowly take him down. He was bigger than Steve, so much bigger, but that only spurred you on. You wanted him to roughly fuck your throat, you wanted to feel him at the back of your throat even after this.

You felt both his hands on your head... he started to push your head further down, the tip hit the back of your throat and you still hadn't taken all of him. He started to ease past your limitations, your eyes filled with tears as he stuffed your mouth impossibly full. Your lips stretched wide around his girth, he could feel your throat constrict around him and the slight gag you couldn't help because of how far he was down your throat.

"Fuck, so good." Bucky groaned lowly, eyes completely black and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. You knew your panties were soaking, a slickness collecting on your thighs as you rubbed them together, the flimsy material of your underwear was sticking to you and making you rub yourself just to alleviate the friction. "I'll deal with your pussy in second, right now I'm going to fill this hole up."

It was like Bucky snapped, the trepidation he was feeling before was long gone. It was now replaced with this new Bucky, and you loved him.

He wasn't merciful when he started to thrust in and out of your mouth, his balls were slapping against your chin harshly. The grip in your hair was harsh as he pushed and pulled your head to meet his hard thrusts, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as he basically skull fucked you. Loud gagging sounds, your throat squeezing his cock as you fought for air, he only eased up when you looked like you were going to pass out. It was seconded worth of air before he repeated his onslaught, spit and cum was dribbling down your chin and onto your chest and sportsbra. Bucky kept his eyes on you, it made you shiver how he was looking at you.

Bucky didn't warn you when he was about to cum, instead, he held your head down, almost shoving his entire cock down your throat as loads of his cum spurted out and shot straight down your throat into your tummy. You hardly tasted his cum because of how far he was down your throat. He groaned as he came, swallowing thrusting his hips into your mouth as he milked his orgasm. He pulled you off his cock, it was still hard, thankfully.

He helped pull you to your feet then undressed you, roughly pulling the sports bra off your chest and yanking your pants down your legs. He ripped your panties to shreds and let the tattered pieces fall to the floor, his hungry gaze took in your shaking, naked form. Your thighs were glistening from your arousal and it was still leaking from your pussy, hardly any attention to it made you needy and wishing to be stuffed full.

"Turn around." The authority in his voice made you shiver.

You turned around and felt Bucky place a hand on your shoulder, bending you over the desk where you found the vial. The pieces of paper clinging to your sweaty skin and making you keen into his touch more. He kicked your feet further apart, a hand tickling the insides of your thighs and collecting your sweet juices. Expecting to feel fingers prodding around your entrance, instead, you felt a firm tongue lick from clit to fluttering hole, it dipping inside and collecting the juices wanting to leak out of you.

Your mouth fell open into a silent scream, his tongue was exploring so far into your pussy, his hands gripped your cheeks apart so he could push further inside of you. Tongue fucking you so roughly and expertly, your eyes almost went crossed out from the feeling. You didn't know you could be tongue fucked this good, but Bucky just lived to prove you wrong. The slurping sounds and moans from the man behind you, he lifted and bent your knee to rest on the table; opening you up further for his trained tongue.

"You're gonna have to let me have a taste of this everyday from now on, baby." Bucky groaned against your pussy, mouth closing around your clit as he sucked harshly, your mouths drowning out his own. "Taste so good," the tip of his tongue running figure eights on your engorged clit.

Bucky must've stayed between your legs for minutes, but it felt like hours. He pulled two back-to-back orgasms from you, only using his tongue. When he was done eating your pussy, he stood up and draped himself over your back, an arm wrapping around your neck as he breathed heavily into your ear. You could feel his cock nudge up against your pussy, sliding and coating himself in your juices.

"You ready for me?" You whined your response, trying to push yourself back against him but his arm tightened around your throat- not restricting your airflow. "Think your little pussy can take my dick, dolly?" You nodded in a rush, needing it inside of you otherwise you was going to die. "I've got you," The tip nudges against your entrance and began to push inside, the stretch was painful but welcoming. "Daddy's got you."

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the more he pushed his thick length in the more you moaned. He wasn't even half-way in when you started to babble about how he was too big for you, how he wouldn't fit inside of you. That only made Bucky want to prove you wrong, want to prove that you were made to take him. He started to thrust shallowly, rocking his length in and out of you, impaling you on him more whenever he pushed forward.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he stopped and remained inside of your tight, heat for a moment. Relishing in the way you were split open around his cock, your walls were spasming around him and he was having a hard time not cumming on the spot. You felt so tight, so warm and wet around him, suddenly envious that Steve got to have you all the time. But he was planning on ruining you, to make sure the next time you fucked Steve it wouldn't feel as good.

He was going to fuck you so hard, so deep that you'd be wishing Steve was this big.

"Hang on, baby." That was the only warning you got.

Bucky started to pummel inside of you, his thrusts were hard and fast, his cock was kissing your cervix. You really could only just lay there and take it, your mouth open as moans were ripped from you, eyes rolling back as he kept impaling his girth inside of you. He was hitting spots so deep you knew you'd be feeling him for days afterwards, you'd be walking with limp and sore, it was worth it.

The way he was fucking you, it was as if he had something to prove.

The sound of skin slapping skin, his grunts and groans right beside your ear. His arm around your neck, clenching and cutting your airflow off at times, had you cumming within seconds and he still didn't let up. He didn't stop and fucked you through your third orgasm.

Your mind was starting to come down from the pollen, the pain and fever you were feeling had gone. Replaced now with pleasure and pain, a mix you didn't think you were into but now couldn't get enough of. All you could think and feel was Bucky Barnes. This was no longer the effects of the pollen anymore, this was pure you and riding on the afterglow of Bucky fucking you like you needed.

"Harder." You mumbled through heavy pants, tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder.

A smirk crossed his features, metal arm holding your hip in a bruising grip. Complying with your order and snapping his hips hard into your heat, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back out and repeating. It causes your back to arch, pressing your pussy back against his thrusts with little mewls leaving your lips.

"Kiss me." You plead breathlessly.

Bucky doesn't falter with that demand either. Draping himself over your body again and pressing his plump lips against yours, the kiss is far more gentle than his thrusts, but it still has you moaning against him. He was kissing you like you was fragile, yet fucking you like you were some kind of sex toy that he was using just to jerk off into. It was making your head spin and your pussy needy for more.

"You gonna come again?" Bucky chuckled against your ear, you nodded sharply and cried in pleasure when he bit your shoulder, cumming on the spot when his teeth dug into your flesh. "Mm'good girl." He mumbled as he licked at the tender spot, you could feel his hips stuttering their pace.

"Cum in me." You grinned and he cursed lowly, eyes squeezing shut. "Want you to fill me up, daddy. Fuckin' fuck a baby into me, fill me up."

The arm around your neck was pulled away, hand splaying across your back as he started to thrust into you in tight, fast and hard thrusts. Using your body to seek his own pleasure now, you were biting your lip at the thought of him filling you up. Not even caring if he actually did knock you up, you needed his cum inside of you.

Bucky found his end after a few careful thrusts, warm ropes of his seed filling you up and then some, he filled you up so much that it started to seep out around his cock. He groaned at the mess he made inside of you, he carefully pulled out of your abused cunt to see your hole clenching, trying to keep his creamy load inside of yourself. He had to look away because if he kept staring he'd get hard again, he didn't think you could take another round or load.

You remained bent over the desk and trying to catch your breath, his human hand was rubbing comforting circles on your back. Before you or Bucky could say something a buzzing sound captured both of your attention, it was coming from Bucky's pant pocket. He left you to retrieve his phone, eyes scanning over the device for a moment before he looked at you.

"Steve is waiting at the extraction point for us," You nodded mutely and you both got dressed in mutual silence.

He helped you to look presentable, ignoring the fingerprint bruise on your hip and the obvious bite mark on your shoulder. You were unsure how to explain any of that to Steve, you were also unsure how to explain what happened to Bucky. Obviously, you had still had those feelings for him, right? Otherwise, you would have been able to wait for Steve, it was like all sense of self-control had left you and only Bucky remained in your mind.

As you both left the base in awkward silence, treking the five miles towards the extraction zone, you wondered if you would have craved for Bucky if you was with Steve. If after all this time it was Bucky and not Steve you wanted.

All you knew was that Bucky had ruined you. You could still feel the impression of him inside of you, the way he had so deliciously stretched you open and impaled you on him. The way he had roughly fucked your throat like it was nothing but a hole to get off into. He had fucked you, in more ways than one.

(Please, let me know what you think! I’m also taking requests too! Honestly, kinda wanna write a part 2 where Reader tries to have sex with Steve but fakes her orgasm just to go to Bucky... I’m a bad person, I just think Bucky would be better than Steve tbh lol~ Lilith)

[prettyboykatsuki]

am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

__

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,”  he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

__

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning  on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart  in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

__

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You  cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

[leafkingofbirds]

I finished this up in a hurry so I hope it's okay! If there's anything you want me to change, let me know!

Title: Mother Hen

Words: ~2,200

Warnings: None, just a slightly suggestive ending

@lexicook74-blog

---

It starts with a sneeze at dinner. 

Kieran tilts his head at Odette, curiously, then an immaculate white handkerchief appears in his elegant hand and offers it to her. 

“Thank you,” she says with a smile. 

“Are you quite well?” Kieran asks, after a moment, frowning with concern as she blows her nose.

“Of course!” She goes to tuck the handkerchief away, but instead it poofs from her hand, and Kieran tucks a fresh one into her pocket. Her head feels a bit heavy, though, and her throat a wee bit scratchy…but she hadn’t fallen ill since she’d arrived in the Fae realm. Surely nothing in this magical place could make her ill.

Except she wakes the next morning with her eyes watering and her head pounding with that familiar old feeling that definitely precedes illness. She groans, squeezing her eyes shut against the too-bright morning sunshine, but quietly so as not to wake Kieran.

He stirs anyway, immediately awake and alert, as if he was not quite asleep after all. “Odette?”

She sits up and groans again when she swallows and her throat feels afire. Kieran follows, anxiety written all over his face. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing. I fear I’m coming down with something, that’s all.” Odette rises and crosses their room to pour herself a glass of cold water from the pitcher that Salma left for her the night before. 

Odette blinks as Kieran is suddenly beside her, taking the glass from her hands to examine her face anxiously. She did not even hear him get out of bed.

His chest is bare and his skin gleams in the soft light, but for once, Odette feels too ill and tired to appreciate the sight of him. 

“What do you mean?” Kieran asks, eyes narrowed. “‘Coming down with’…what?”

“Just a few sniffles,” Odette replies, and her voice is hoarse and strained. 

“It seems more than that.”

She forces a smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just ask Salma or Silvia to bring me up a warm teapot, perhaps take a bath. Humans deal with illness regularly, you know.”

But Kieran’s concern doesn’t abate. He’s still looking at her as she sniffles as though she’s just announced she’s dying. “There’s no need to ring for the servants.” In an instant, an ebony teapot materializes on the sideboard, along with a matching teacup. Steam pipes out of the spout. “I’m perfectly capable of providing whatever you need.”

“Thank you, my darling,” Odette smiles, then waves him away as he leans in to kiss her cheek. “But I don’t wish for you to catch whatever I have!”

“Fae don’t catch ill,” Kieran says, looking confused. “Unless cursed or enchanted with some poison.”

No wonder he looks so worried. “Well, mortals do, and I’m quite used to working through it.”

“No,” Kieran declares. “You’ll not be doing any work, beloved. Go back to bed. I shall have breakfast brought up to you so that you may regain your strength.”

Odette groans inwardly. Kieran had a tendency to over-worry when it came to her, and she really was tougher than he imagined her to be. But…she can’t help thinking it might be nice to be able to relax and be taken care of while she’s sick, for a change. She hasn’t had that luxury since she was a child, and her parents were still alive.

But she can’t truly relax while Kieran is beside her, worrying over every sniffle, jumping at every sneeze to hand her a tissue. He doesn’t seem to know how to help someone who’s ill, so she has to explain what she needs, and then explain why.

His magic certainly has some advantages, though. After a warm bath filled with essential oils (conjured from someplace or dug out of the back of the palace’s curious stores of things) Odette assures Kieran she’s not got one foot in the grave, and please, darling, stop impersonating a mother hen.

Finally, with a few assurances to Kieran’s unabated worry, Odette tries to go about her day…but soon, the sneezes, headache, and insufferable blockage of her nose grow worse again until they are too much to bear. She retreats back to her own rarely-used room to attempt to nap in peace without alarming Kieran further.

She dozes, perhaps, but doesn’t sleep. Still, it seems some time has passed when she hears…

“Odette?” The door opens some time later, and Kieran is suddenly at her bedside in an instant, taking her hand in his. “I’ve looked everywhere for you. Why are you taken to your bed here…? Why did you not call for me?” Kieran clears his throat uncomfortably, realizing the answer. 

“You take care of me so well,” she whispers. “But I didn’t wish to be a bother.”

Odette whimpers, so Kieran strokes her back in a firm, soothing motion. 

“Beloved, you are never a bother.” Kieran’s cool palm cups over her forehead. “It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it? You feel warmer than usual.”

Miserable, Odette sniffles and nod. “I do feel chilled,” she admits, her voice sounding nasally.

Instantly, the fire in the hearth blazes brighter, and a welcome heat fills the room.

“Thank you,” Odette manages with a smile. “Wait, how did you…how do you know about fevers?”

“You said something once, when you were tending to the injured Fae after Jack’s first attack.” There’s a tension in his voice, alarm and concern. “Odette…I don’t have your skills with medicinal herbs or healing magic. Tell me what to do.”

“No, really, I’m just…” But she’s so miserable, and tired of pretending otherwise. Besides, this is Fae, after all. “Perhaps…Longclaw may know…she showed me a flower once, that we used in making you a salve…perhaps she knows other…”

Instantly, Kieran is at your window, throwing it open and whistling. A raven appears at the sill, and Kieran gives the bird a few terse instructions, then it flies off again. 

Kieran returns to Odette’s bedside, stroking her clammy forehead again. “I may not know healing, but let me do something for you, beloved.”

“Who knew the prince of ravens could be such a mother hen?”

Kieran chuckles softly. “And I shall continue, until I’m able to ease some of your distress.”

Her eyelids are so heavy, her thoughts muddled. “I just…wish I could sleep…”

Kieran makes a small sound and the gentle touch of his hand against her cheek is a sweet comfort. His voice is soft and soothing as he says, “That, I can do.”

***

Odette drifts to wakefulness to the sight of three faces nearby. Two are familiar and dear to her, the third a stranger. Her head still pounds, but not so viciously, and her breathing is a little easier. 

Longclaw holds her hand in her great fuzzy paw, while a stranger in Sun Court garb mixes something with mortar and pestle across the room. Kieran looks a mess, pacing at the foot of her bed, biting his thumbnail in an uncharacteristic show of distress.

Something must be terribly wrong for Kieran to allow anyone to see his true emotions like that, much less a Sun Court stranger.

As soon as she stirs, Longclaw smiles sweetly at her. “Oh, my dear, how are you feeling?”

Kieran stops his pacing and comes to her instantly, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Thank the stars. You’ve slept much longer than I…” he cuts himself off, looking nervous and abashed. “Much longe than normal.”

“I told you she was in no danger,” the stranger says irritably. “Mortals are such fragile little things. Luckily for you, I am well versed in their myriad variety of illnesses, the only healer in the realm who deals with mortals and their oddities day in and day out. The servants at the Sun Palace are always coming down with something as an excuse to get out of work. Here.” The stranger pours a golden, shimmering liquid into a round glass vial and stoppers it. “I’ve worked a little charm to ease her breathing, but a few spoonfuls of this tonight with dinner and twice daily the next two days, and your mortal will fully recover with no lasting ill effects.”

“Thank you, Althea,” Longclaw answers with a smile. “I shall meet you at the carriage in a moment.”

Althea huffily curtsies to her princess, and then to Kieran. Kieran sternly ignores the strange Fae, who has a sprig of wildflowers tucked behind one ear and wears a plain (by Fae standards) silk gown of lavender, with a businesslike apron atop it. Odette can swear she even smells a bit like lavender, too. 

Oh. She can breathe again! How blessedly sweet the air smelled! 

“You are welcome,” Althea snarks, and then departs.

“I apologize,” Longclaw stage-whispers. “She’s one of our very best healers, but unfortunately she is…one of my courtiers who needs a bit more time to adjust to mortals being called Consort.”

“Odette,” Kieran says, with a quiet pleading note in his tone. “How are you feeling?”

Odette clears her scratchy throat. “Better.”

Kieran lets out the slightest relieved sigh; when Odette reaches for a glass of water at the bedside table, he leans over to retrieve it for her, and holds it steady. 

He’s babying her again, but Odette can’t find it in herself to hold it against him. He seemed truly worried, as though her minor sickness was something far more serious. He takes the glass when she’s finished and replaces it, then holds one of her hands snugly within both of his own. “Your fever has broken. You slept fitfully all night.”

“Did I?” She feels groggy and confused, but as Longclaw pours a spoonful of the healer’s medicine and offers it to Odette, the medicine seems to clear her head and calm her throat like honey. 

“That’s it, dear. Now, you rest up, and if you have need of me again, I’m but a raven away.” Longclaw smiles and pats her leg, then gives a secret, almost sad smile to Kieran, before leaving them alone. Odette was oddly reminded of that morning Longclaw found them holding hands over breakfast, and thought that the Sun Princess was rather sneaky in her own way.

“You worried me,” Kieran says quietly.

“There was no need, Kieran. I may have felt miserable, but I wasn’t in any real danger.”

“Are you certain of that?” Kieran’s voice is low and grave. “How do you know? Pray, tell me – how am I to tell the difference between what you consider a minor illness and one that has the power to take you away from me?”

Odette sits up. “Oh, Kieran.”

“How am I to know that…that a headache and fever will not become something worse? I could not help wondering if you would wake from this; I could not sleep, not knowing how much danger you may be in. I do not know what mortals can endure, what a deadly illness looks like in mortals, how to stop such a thing from progressing. That is your skill set, it is not mine. I felt…utterly powerless.”

“I know you must have hated that,” Odette murmurs. 

“More than anything,” Kieran growls, making Odette laugh a little. He squeezes her hand. “You truly feel better?”

She nods. “Sometimes I’ll get sick, Kieran. It’s a fact of mortal life. But I have survived much worse than a stuffy nose, and I have every faith in your magic and in our friends – in Salma and Silvia, Longclaw and all the experts at her disposal, should it ever be more serious than a few days’ fever. I’m sure Oleander even has a few tricks up their sleeve. I can’t stop you from worrying, but…I’m not afraid, Kieran. And I don’t want you to be, either.”

Kieran shakes his head ruefully, a little smirk at the corner of his mouth. “If only it were so easy, my love. But when you suffer, I suffer. And I shall always fear for you.”

Of course…Odette’s parents died from illness. Kieran must have been thinking of them…wondering if she was about to succumb to the same thing, while he watched, helpless, and frustrated that he did not know what to do.

Odette folds Kieran into her arms. “We have defeated far more dangerous foes than a little cold,” she reminds him, and feels him chuckle then relax. 

“True.”

“Perhaps, when I’m fully recovered, I’ll give you a little lesson in mortal medicine. Would you like that? Do you think it would help you feel less powerless?”

“I…shall endeavor to learn anything you wish to teach me.”

“That wasn’t a yes.”

Kieran smiles mischievously. “No, it was not.”

“You Fae and your clever truth-dodging,” Odette laughs, which turns into a long series of hacking coughs. She groans and falls back against the pillow, while Kieran looks fretfully on. “It seems I’m not entirely better, just yet.”

“Then you shall rest, and I shall be your…what did you call me? A mother hen?” He gives her a confused, wry look. 

“Mother hens are rather…overprotective, perhaps even overbearing, towards their chicks. They are very good mothers! But they can also be very broody and quick to bite. Not unlike some other birds I know.”

Kieran’s brows lower as Odette giggles and blows her nose. “Rest up, my love. You shall need all your strength…for in a few days, I shall pay you back for that.”

Can you do a cursed heart fanfic where the mc is sick because she’s human and humans get sick and Kieran being so out of his element about it so he gets all overprotective?

Yes, totally! Any preference for second person, third person, MC name...?

[snezi]

Part 1 of a new St/ar Tr/ek fic I started! This will eventually be Kirk/McCoy <3

*Disclaimer: I would like to give credit to @hessickjim, as their works are the inspiration for all snez spellings :)

~~~

Jim was fucked.

His throat had been scratchy and painful the night before, and his lungs had had a slight catch to them, so he went out of his way to get more than 5 hours of sleep that night to try to heal things up, figuring he’d be good as new in the morning.

Unfortunately, it turned out that those 2 extra hours of sleep were hardly the cure-all he’d hoped for, and were really more equivalent to slapping a bandaid on a gaping wound. He woke up to full-blown congestion: in his face, in his ears, in his chest. A persistent cough had settled in, a wheezy bark that made his trachea ache. But worst of all was his nose: it was itchy, and runny, and nearly hair-trigger sensitive.

“Hh’ASCHHhuh!” He sneezed explosively, and then groaned as he felt his nose immediately fill again.

For a fleeting second, he considered running to Bones. It was only recently that he was coming to terms with his feelings for his CMO, and the thought of being near the man, while also being fussed over and allowed to sleep all day (even if it was at the cost of a few hypos) sounded like heaven.

God, I must have a fever, too, Jim scoffed as he dragged himself out of bed.

The truth was, it didn’t matter what he wanted, because Dr. Leonard McCoy was insanely busy today. And really the whole week. The medbay had been overrun with scientists who had managed to give themselves some sort of painful, itchy rash that didn’t respond to normal medications, and Leonard was hell-bent on finding the cure.

So instead of bothering him, Jim vowed to just get through his shift and then go back to bed. They were cruising through space en route to their next planet, and weren’t due to arrive for another few days, so at least he wouldn’t have to do much. He could hide how he felt for a few hours, no problem!

With that, he shoved a clump of tissues into his pocket, and made his way up to the bridge.

Spock was already there, but thankfully seemed to be deep in conversation with Uhura, so Jim managed to sneak to his chair largely unobserved.

At least, until his traitorous nose betrayed him.

“HPMFSH! Hh'KGNx't!” He stifled hard into his fist, causing pain to shoot through his sinuses.

A chorus of “bless you”s sounded from around the bridge, and Jim felt his ears go pink as he nodded his thanks. Glancing back, he saw Spock start towards him, so he quickly swiveled forward and addressed the rest of his crew.

“Good morning everyone. If I could get the updates, please?” He quietly cleared his throat, trying to dispel some of the gravel coating his vocal cords.

He saw a few people exchange glances in surprise: on a normal day Jim would joke around with everyone first, making conversation or simply checking in, but today he was just too tired, and besides, every word he spoke made his nose twitch.

“Umm…nothing to report, sir,” Sulu finally responded. “We’re on track to reach our destination in 3.57 days.”

Kirk nodded appreciatively, knuckling at his nose. The rest of the crew gave similarly short updates as they moved to their stations.

Except for Spock. He lingered beside him, head cocked slightly as he asked, “Captain, are you alright?”

Jim smiled as convincingly as he could as he deflected. “Uh oh, emotions this early in the morning, Spock?”

The Vulcan flushed slightly but persisted. “I am merely inquiring as to why you have deviated from routine. Additionally, I believe I can hear your lungs-”

“I’m fine,” Jim interrupted quickly, not wanting the entire bridge to be regaled with how thick and congested his chest must sound to Spock’s superhuman ears.

“Should I comm Doct-”

“No! I’m fine,” he repeated hastily. “Now, how are your scans of the new planet going?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him, pausing for a long moment before, thankfully, he let the matter drop. “They are progressing steadily.”

“Good. If you could continue with that, then, please…?” Jim suggested.

Spock’s disapproval was nearly palpable, his dark eyes piercing, but reluctantly, he made his way to his station.

Jim breathed a small sigh of relief, only to have it catch on the ever-present tickle in his throat. He coughed once, and then again much harder, but seeing Spock out of the corner of his eye, forced back the fit that threatened to spill out.

And so it went, for the majority of the shift: Jim struggling to suppress symptom after symptom under the Vulcan’s piercing gaze, while surreptitiously wiping his nose on his dwindling tissues - and then his sleeve once he ran out - whenever Spock’s back was turned.

As the final hour began to tick by, though, Jim found himself losing the battle against his cold more often than he won, and he was truly exhausted from the effort. His nose was running nearly non-stop, his lungs were burning with the need to cough, and he was freezing.

He crossed his arms over his chest for added warmth, leaned back against his chair, and let his eyes drift closed, just for a second…

***

He jerked awake some time later to Spock looming over him.

“Captain, I believe you would be more comfortable in your quarters,” the Vulcan murmured, bent in close this time to keep others from hearing. “It is obvious that you are not well.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he mumbled raspily, wiping sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. How much longer is our shift?”

“13 minutes, certainly a timeframe short enough that you should not be missed,” Spock replied pointedly.

“Spock, I - Hih’IHDSCHh’uh!” Kirk jerked his arm up just in time to keep from spraying his First Officer. “IH’DZSCHH’uh!”

“My point precisely.”

“Mbost people say ‘bless you,’” Jim rolled his eyes, wincing as he heard the congestion seeping into his words. “Bud fide, you wid.”

He dragged his body out of his chair, trying not to groan at the ache in his muscles. The movement made black dots swim before his eyes, and he swayed.

Spock grabbed his arm in an instant, alarmed. “I will accompany you.”

Too tired to protest, Kirk merely nodded his thanks, and the two made their way to the turbolift. “Sulu, you habe the conn.”

The walk to his room wasn’t far, but by the time they made it there, the Captain felt ready to collapse, leaning more and more heavily on Spock as they progressed. Spock half-carried, and half-dragged, him to his bed, and he flopped down on it.

“Thagks, Spock,” Jim mumbled, face-down in his blankets.

“Do you require anything, Captain?” he asked.

Jim shook his head, launching into a painful coughing fit.

To his surprise, he felt Spock’s hand on his back, rubbing gently until he managed to regain control of his lungs.

“Please allow me to comm Dr. McCoy,” he murmured, and when Jim turned over to look at him he saw the Vulcan’s face pinched with concern.

He shook his head again. “I will, later. Just wadt to sleep for awhile first.”

Seeming to begrudgingly accept that, Spock nodded, and turned to leave the room. “Rest well, Jim.”

“Thagks, Spock,” he smiled, almost immediately falling into a deep sleep.

[offbrandhange]

AOT if you were sick | 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

Headcanons on how some of the AOT boys would help/comfort you when sick! :)

Characters: Armin, Connie, Eren, Erwin, Jean, Levi, Niccolo, Reiner,

Gender: Neutral, no references to readers’ gender ! :)

a/n: I haven’t been feeling well lately so badabam badaboom here we go. Also I am trying a new format because I’m pretty sure when I write the bullet points it looks wonky on mobile?...I dunno man :/

𝕬𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓 𝕬𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙 ~

After telling him you’re sick...

Right off the bat, Armin would ask what your symptoms are. Immediately after telling him he’d rush out to the pharmacy to pick up meds, and probably some comfort food, too.

How does he comfort you?

Armin would comfort you by bringing you things you need like medicine, wet towels, clean clothes, food, etc. Constantly, and I mean constantly asking if you want anything.

He probably would also set up a little sick-station in the living room with a blanket, pillow, cup of water, wet towel, bowl of soup, etc. and put on a TV show you like and just...chill while you watch or nap (if you fall asleep midway through).

Would they take/call off work to take care of you?

Only if you were super sick. He would 1000% be worried about you while at work, though. You’d get “How are you doing” messages every hour, and he’d totally end up annoying the sh*t out of his co-workers for constantly talking about you being ill. Armin would probably also pick up a little snack/gift for you on his way home.

Are they still physically affectionate?

Most likely not. Armin would be scared he’d get sick too, and then you’d have to take care of him. If you begged him for a quick kiss, or you really whined for some cuddles, then maybe he’ll indulge.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖊 𝕾𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 ~

After telling him you’re sick...

“Dang bro, that sucks.” And that’s all he says.

How does he comfort you?

I think if you asked him for something, he’d get you it willingly and eagerly, but otherwise he’s clueless; He assumes you’re good if you don’t say anything.

Connie would comfort you by hanging out with you. Most likely, he’d sit you down on the couch and play video games with you, like Mario Kart; or he’d show you him killing a really hard boss. I think he’d also send you funny videos/tiktoks, and I mean like, the really dumb ones, where it’s like...a fart sound effect over an image of a truck. Or a, “Can I touch that badonkadonk fool?”

Would they take/call off work to take care of you?

Yup, especially if you asked. I feel like Connie would take any chance he could to take off work, and you being sick would be his opening. He wouldn’t leave you alone all day, either; You’re stuck with him.

Are they still physically affectionate?

Connie does not care if you’re sick. You’re gonna get the same amount of treatment, maybe more if you whine and snuggle into his chest. He thinks you’re even more cute when you’re sick.

𝕰𝖗𝖊𝖓 𝕵𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖗 ~

After telling him you’re sick...

Eren would say something like, “Oh. Are you alright?” If you said no, he’d make you a snack or ask if you want anything. Afterwards he would chill with you and probably cuddle or snuggle you. I doubt he would really worry, he’d be real calm about it.

How does he comfort you?

He’d bring you something if you needed it. The only time I could see him getting fussy about it though, is if you interrupted him while he was totally invested in a video game or on a work call.

Most definitely snuggles with you in bed. Probably would do something to tease you too, kissing down your neck and saying “Are you better yet? How about now? Are you better yet?” I can see Eren being totally down for an afternoon nap together anytime you wanted.

Would they take/call off work to take care of you?

He would ask you if you wanted/needed him to. If you said yes he would, even if you weren’t really sick. Likewise, if you said you’re fine, but were far from fine, he’d call BS and stay home too; if you kept saying he didn’t need to, it’s very likely his stubborn a*s would argue with you and take off anyways.

Are they still physically affectionate?

Definitely. Eren would still, probably even more than usual, baby the ever-loving sh*t out of you. There’s no escaping his cuddles, kisses, or more...sexual activities.

𝕰𝖗𝖜𝖎𝖓 𝕾𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖍 ~

After telling him you’re sick...

Erwin, like Armin, would ask what’s wrong right away. Except he would completely annoy you by asking a million f*cking questions about your symptoms. He’d probably google them too and list a ton of possibilities that are so far-fetched. He’d end up scaring HIMSELF and forcing you to go to the doctor.

How does he comfort you?

Up your A**. Every five seconds he would be like, “Need something? You’re sure? You’re sure you’re sure? I know I was here five minutes ago, yeah, but I’m just making sure. So you’re sure?”

Pets your head, ruffles your hair. Goes out to pick up medicine, snacks, maybe even flowers. Probably tries to brush your teeth for you. You know, Erwin things.

Would they take/call off work for you?

Y E S. Yes. This man would call off the whole WEEK. He wouldn’t leave you alone, either. The whole damn day he’d be breathing down your NECK. Even if the only discomfort you felt was a scratchy throat. He’d make you call off work too.

Are they still physically affectionate?

I feel like Erwin is on the verge of being either, “Yes, princess, let me hold you.” or, “Oh no, no, no, we can’t be having that. Oh no, no, no. No passing illnesses, sweetie.” If the second were true, the only way to get him off your back would be by threatening to hug him while snot was dripping down your nose. This grown ass man would probably be screaming like a (very deep-voiced) little girl and running for dear life.

𝕵𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝕶𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖎𝖓 ~

After telling him you’re sick...

Jean would be so FREAKING sweet, and nobody can tell me otherwise. He’d say something like, “Awe, baby. Are you okay? Want anything?” He genuinely cares; although, immediately afterward he did anything nice or caring for you, he’d text all his dude friends and be like “yo man I’m SUCH a good boyfriend.” and brag his a*s off.

How does he comfort you?

He’d ask every once in a while if you needed anything, and he’d randomly bring you stuff like soup or a fresh cup of water. He’d probably feed you it, too.

Depending on what you wanted, Jean would either leave you alone or smother you to death. If you wanted him to leave you alone he’d check in on you every so often, and if you wanted him to smother you, he’d literally follow you all around the house. I’m talking like, cuddling or napping on the couch/bed, or straight up just following you around like an overly-attached child. His arms would be around your waist, chin on your head, and he’d waddle behind you like a d*mn penguin. And that includes trips to the bathroom. He’d probably sit outside the bathroom and wait for you, though.

Would they take/call off work for you?

If you wanted him to, were really sick, or if you were incredibly pitiful and acting like you were on your deathbed. Otherwise, I think he’d still go to work. He would bring home snacks and flowers afterwards though.

Are they still physically affectionate?

Oh my god, Jean would still be all over you. Like, there wouldn’t be a moment you’d be free from his hold. He’d probably still want to have sex with you, too as long as you were feeling well enough for it...The only exception would be if you got too over-heated or over-whelmed, then he’d very sadly hold back. Like a scolded pup, he’d just sit there...watching you...wishing you were in his arms.

𝕷𝖊𝖛𝖎 𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓 ~

After telling him you’re sick...

You would tell him you’re not feeling well, and the first thing this man’d say would be, “What is it? You have the sh*ts? Something not coming out?” He’d get you what you needed immediately after you told him what was really wrong, though; but he’d also, very discreetly slip you a box of anti-diarrheals, too, just in case.

How does he comfort you?

Every once in a while he will ask if you need something. He’s not too over-bearing nor distant. Although, he’s probably constantly slipping you hand-sanitzers, and cleaning your room, or anything you’ve touched. It’s for your, and his sake. Oh, and he’s not handing you anything, either; he’s throwing it at you to catch. Or slipping his hand through the door with a bowl of soup/cup of water, and placing it on the floor/nearest surface. Kind of like when a cat pushes their paw through a crack, then disappears, and you’re like, “oh, would you look at that.”

I don’t think Levi would really want to be too close since he’s kind of a clean-freak, so he’d comfort you through, maybe, sending you low-quality cat memes he found on the web. Or he’d put on one of those full-on, ugly, yellow hazard suits and hold your hand while watching a reality-TV show like The Bachelorette meanwhile mocking them to oblivion. You’re legally required to laugh at the comments he makes about the people on the show; he’s doing it to be funny. He’s just awkward.

Would they take/call off work to take care of you?

If you were pitiful, or not that sick, no. If you were genuinely pretty sick, then he’d call off work. He wouldn’t bug you, he’d just...stand in the corner and watch you. Just...he’d be there. Also still in his hazard suit. With his arms crossed.

Are they still physically affectionate?

No. Absolutely not. Not unless you’re talking about him and the cleaning supplies. I think if you tried to go anywhere near him, he’d get really mad and threaten you with a spray-bottle filled with water.

I think he would be upset, though. Like, I could see him having a calendar and just...sadly, squeakily dragging that marker down to form an X over the day to see how long you were sick, waiting ‘till you were better so he could hug you again.

𝕹𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖔 ~

After telling him you’re sick...

In a worried, but also kind of loving-scolding way, he’d say something like, “Geez, how’d this happen?” Immediately after he’d make you some homemade soup with fresh ingredients. Only after he would give you your medicine, because it needs a, “full stomach to work.”

Additionally, if he makes you food, don’t tell him if you can’t taste it. Please, god, don’t. He’ll feel like he did all that work for nothing then get annoyed.

How does he comfort you?

Constantly bringing you food or desserts. When he asks if you need anything, his mind jumps to a food or drink instead of medicine or a wet towel, because that’s just his strong-suit.

I feel like he would hang out with you and let you lay your head on his chest while you watched TV together. I picture him saying something like, “Hey babe, let’s watch Hell’s Kitchen.” Or, alternatively, “Hey babe, let’s watch Kitchen Nightmares.” Don’t watch Kitchen Nightmares with him. Those unclean kitchens will make HIM vomit, too.

Would they take/call off work to take care of you?

Niccolo probably wouldn’t call off, but he would make you a whole bunch of yummy meals for you to eat the next day. He’d probably leave you a cute little note too, like a “Feel better, love you! :-D” with hearts all over it.

Are they still physically affectionate?

Depends on what kind of sickness you had. I think if you lost your taste he’d draw the line, simply because he needs to be able to taste the food he makes. Also, it frustrates the sh*t out of him when he loses his taste. Otherwise, I think he’d be down to cuddle, and very limitedly, kiss.

𝕽𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖗 𝕭𝖗𝖆𝖚𝖓 ~

After telling him you’re sick...

Gets VERY concerned. Wants to take you to the doctor, even if it’s a light illness, because he wants to make sure it’s nothing bad. He wouldn’t leave you alone after you tell him you’re sick, either. Constantly by your side.

How does he comfort you?

You wouldn’t need to ask for anything, because he already has everything for you. You’re surrounded in snacks, bottles of water, blankets, pillows, wet towels, medicine, literally anything you need, it’s already there. He’ll even offer to carry you to the bathroom, just so you don’t have to move.

Reiner would probably cuddle with you and put on a romance, family, or Disney movie. If it’s extra emotional, it’s gonna make him extra emotional. He will be squeezing you for dear life and just saying stuff like, “Boy, I don’t know what I’d do without you...”

Would they take/call off work to take care of you?

Yes, even if all you had was the sniffles, Reiner would have already called off, and make you call off too. He just thinks that’s what you should do if a loved one is sick. If he left you alone, he’d get worried you’d end up falling or unable to get something you need. He wants to be there for you.

Are they still physically affectionate?

Reiner would, but in a much more sweet way. He’s genuinely really worried for you, and doesn’t like seeing you sick. So be prepared for him to constantly be holding you with your head on his chest, and him peppering kisses all over your face.

[helliontherapscallion]

Lost Time (The Ashes of Yourself Part 2)

Part 1     Part 3    Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: mentions of suicide attempts/ideation, swearing, daddy/abandonment issues

Word count: 3,879

You and Techno stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, both of you not knowing what to say to each other. So much was left unsaid between you two throughout your childhoods and the past four years that you didn’t know where to even start. You supposed a simple ‘how are you?’ would suffice, but that’d be too simple, far too simple for not talking to each other in literal years. But you couldn’t just say ‘hey, I’m incredibly jealous that you are Dad’s favorite and I totally didn’t send you my suicide note that you may or may not have seen’, that’d be way too much trauma dumping for your taste. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you chose to sheepishly grin at him and awkwardly wave. 

“Heh uh, how’re you…?” Smooth, (y/n). Real smooth.

You watched as he furrowed his brows slightly before he hesitantly gave you a small wave with his gargantuan pink hand. “...I’m doin alright. You?”

“I’ve seen better days.”

“Right…”

An awkward silence fell over you two as you glanced down at your bloodied hands. “Sorry bout the blood. It won’t really stop until I stop moving.”

He shrugged, “that’s fine. I’ve bled everywhere in this house. Nothing that won’t come out.”

“Alright then.”

You wanted to crawl into a pit and just let yourself die, you hated this awkward atmosphere you created. Your mind scrambled to find something to say to the man other than a stupid ‘alright then’. You haven’t even seen him in four years, surely you would be able to find something to talk about. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard him clear his throat.

“I uh got some clothes for you. They’re Tommy’s old clothes from when he stayed with me during his exile. I don’t know if they’ll fit, but I’m guessing that they’re better than the wet ones you’re wearing.”

When he saw you wince when you tried to stand up, he rushed to your side and helped you stand up. You could feel the backs of your knees start to drip blood. “Do you have any spare lava?”

His hands paused on your upper arms, “yes, but why would you need it?”

“It kinda heals me. I mean, just enough that my skin stops cracking open and bleeding everywhere.”

“Why don’t we just take you to a lava lake in the Nether?”

You glanced out the window at the flurry of snowflakes falling to the ground and being whisked off to other places by the harsh wind. You shuttered, remembering what it felt like to be fully engulfed in water. “Water hurts. I don’t want to get burnt out again.”

“Right, I’ll go get a few buckets full. Stay here,” with that, he ushered you to sit in front of the fire once again and draped the large blanket over your shoulders again. You could hear him move to another room and rustle around what you presumed was a chest before you heard his heavy footsteps walking behind the couch. You could hear the billowing of the wind when he opened the door before it was cut off by the door closing. 

You leaned forward and put your hands in the fire, relishing in the feeling of the flames melting away the charred skin slightly. The flames licked and caressed your dark skin slowly giving you more feeling back in the damaged tissue. As you were turning your hands over the flames, you thought about your voluntary near death experience just about an hour before. 

The thought of the ocean finally taking you and dragging your charcoaled corpse into its depths never to be seen again was alluring. After feeling the intense pain and the suffocation that came with chucking yourself into the ocean when you’re part blaze was definitely a deterrent, but you just had to push through the pain. This was something you’d dreamt of doing since you were fifteen and you’d be damned if you were going to let pain stop you. 

You know you felt sort of… grateful that Philza saved you when you were laying on that beach, but now that you had time to reflect on what happened, you felt resentful that he did. Of course he’d take away the only good thing you had going on in your life, he was full of audacity and impudence when you were a kid. He hasn’t changed at all much to your disappointment. You shouldn’t have expected him to change in the first place, that was just something that you knew in the back of your mind would never happen. A large part of you craved his approval and affection, but you knew that wouldn’t happen. 

Your thoughts were cut off by someone pulling you back gently from the fire. “I got the lava. Uh, I can set up an area for you downstairs with netherrack.”

“No, you don’t have to, I just have to put it on my joints for a few minutes.”

“Don’t you want to, uh, fully cover yourself?”

“I can hold off until the snowstorm dies down. It’s nothing too major.” You dipped your hands into the large bucket of lava and sighed in relief, “that’s much better, thank you Technoblade.”

“It’s no problem, but you literally just almost died. How is that something that’s ‘not major’?”

“I’m used to… well, this,” you took a hand out of the lava and gestured to your stone covered arm. “It’s just more than I’m used to. Kinda uncomfortable, but I’ll live.”

“What do you mean you’re used to it? You don’t live by water do you?”

“Yeah, I live by the ocean so I’m bound to get a little charred. No big deal,” you took your hands out of the bucket, shook the excess lava off, and stuck your elbows in. You looked at your now dully glowing hand and wiggled your fingers. There were more blackened scars etched into your skin on your joints, but you didn’t care.

“Heh? Why the hell would you live by an ocean?” 

You wove your hands nonchalantly in the air, “I always liked how the water looked when the sun set. The way that the pinks and yellows would reflect and bounce off the waves? Breathtaking.” You also lived by the ocean so that you had an easy way out of living, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Too much trauma dumping.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“Have you ever seen the sun setting over the ocean?” You rose a brow at the piglin hybrid sitting on the couch. 

“Well, no but-”

“Then you can’t knock it till you try it. I’ll take you to my old place after I can take a proper lava bath. You won’t regret it, promise.”

“Still, you’re literally made of fire. Look what happened to you… Er, speaking of, how’d this happen?” He looked you up and down inquisitively with his red eyes. 

You sighed as you took your elbows out of the lava and dipped your feet into the buckets. “...Do you still have your communicator?”

You watched as his floppy ear flicked and his eyebrow rose at you, “...Yes, but I only talk to Dad. Why, did you leave me a message?” Before he could stand up to grab his communicator, you stopped him with a hand on his shin. “No, I didn’t. I was just wondering.”

He didn’t look convinced, “...tell me what happened. Were you pushed?”

Your shoulders tensed up against your will before you forced them to relax. “I fell in, got too close to the edge.”

“You’re so lucky Dad was already at your house, you could’ve died. How could you be so careless?” 

You only responded with a blaze-like frustrated grunt that rumbled in the back of your throat and removed your feet from the buckets. Picking up one of the buckets, you took a swig of the lava. The viscous liquid crawled slowly down your throat and soothed your burned esophagus and stomach. Clearing your throat, you looked over to your estranged brother. He was looking at you with disgust, his snout scrunched up slightly and his mouth twisted into a grimace.

“What?” Your voice sounded less strained and scratchy. Overall, it felt better to speak.

“Your- your feet were just in there. That’s disgusting.”

You blew out a puff of smoke and watched as it drifted to the ceiling, “my feet were just in water, remember? They’re clean. And besides, I swallowed and inhaled a lot of water so I needed it. I mean, my lungs are still stone, but there’s nothing I can do about it except wait it out.”

“That’s still gross. Wait, can you not drink water?”

“No- well technically I can, but it hurts. Gimme one sec.”

He was quiet as he watched you take a deep breath and dunk your entire head into the lava bucket you weren’t drinking from. His youngest sibling was… strange, but he found that he enjoyed your company so far. The only company he’s had at his cabin recently was his brothers and dad, which burned him out slightly with their big personalities. You were as awkward as he was and that was refreshing. But he couldn’t help but feel guilty after hearing the majority of yours and Philza’s argument. Now that he thought back on his childhood, the majority of his memories were of him and Philza. He didn’t have many negative memories past his adoption, and that was because he spent all of his time adventuring with Philza. He did everything with his adoptive father and absolutely nothing with his siblings. He knew nothing about Wilbur, well Ghostbur now, or Tommy until they stayed with him during Tommy’s exile. He’s never talked to you or spent any time with you before, and he wanted to get to know who you were. He wanted to make up for lost time.

After you were under for a while, he started to worry that you drowned yourself. Just as he was about to pull your head out of the bucket with a hand close to your forehead, you slowly removed your head from the lava and held it over the bucket so that the excess would drip off from you. Panting slightly, you sat up fully and wiped your eyes clean of the lava. You could hear some rustling in front of you so you opened your eyes to see your brother holding out clothes to you. 

“Go change, I’ll make dinner. There’s a spare room upstairs, second door on the left. You can stay there for now.”

You hesitated before you took the clothes from him, “I… Thank you Techno.” You weren’t expecting him to be so kind to you, he was known as the blood god after all. He was ruthless when he battled, leaving thousands without families. You saw him a couple of times when you were younger coming home with Philza covered in blood with a malicious expression on his face. That always made you try to avoid him; not that you had any difficulty doing that, he was never home. 

He curtly nodded before he turned to walk into where you assumed was the kitchen. You trudged up the stairs and tiredly drug your feet down the hallway towards the second door on the left. When you opened the door, you were pleasantly surprised. You didn’t know what you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t this. It was simplistic, yet it looked like a professional decorated it.

The bed looked incredibly comfortable and soft with a large white comforter draped over the top. At both sides of the headboard, twin chests sat underneath double hung windows with wooden frames that matched the spruce planks that made up the walls. You were sure that once the relentless snowstorm stopped you would be able to see a spruce forest in the distance. Lanterns hung at the far corners of the room opposite of where the bed sat. Glancing at the opposite wall, you saw a framed portrait of a nether fortress. You assumed that it was the nether fortress on the other side of his portal. If you squinted, you could see orange specks that you assumed were blazes. 

After you got dressed, you were pleasantly surprised to see that Tommy’s clothes fit you. Despite the slight bagginess of the pants and the sleeves of the jumper hanging halfway past your hands, they fit relatively well. Humming in satisfaction, you hung up your wet clothes to dry and made your way downstairs following the savory smell of cooking meat and potatoes. Your mouth watered at the smell, it’s been a while since you’ve eaten an actual meal. You’d just been surviving on an apple a day with the occasional potato when you had some leftover from making homemade vodka. 

You walked into the kitchen and looked at your brother standing at the stove, the stove looked miniscule compared to his seven and a half foot tall form. That man was a giant and you wouldn’t be lying if his height alone didn’t intimidate you slightly. If he wanted, he could grab your entire face with his hand. Various light pink scars decorated his muscular arms that poked out from the rolled up sleeves of his blouse. He wasn’t wearing his huge fluffy cloak, instead it was draped over the back of one of the chairs at the large wooden dining table. Every part of your body wanted to take it, wrap yourself up into a blaze hybrid burrito, and take the best nap you’ve ever had. His corseted form moved gracefully around the kitchen grabbing various spices and herbs. 

You saw his ears twitch before he moved his massive head  to look back at you, you could see the corners of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. “They fit you, that’s good. Take a seat, dinner's almost ready.” With that, you took a seat at the table. You felt like a child again, the table was huge, the tabletop coming up to your lower chest. The table and chairs were made of what looked like dark oak wood. The wood was carved intricately with complex patterns etched into the frame and the back of the chairs. 

You eyed the cape draped over the chair next to you. It was a deep royal red with black speckled white fur lining the border of the fabric. If you looked closely, you could see that the pendant that connected the two ends was made of gold and had a diamond encrusted center. It looked incredibly soft, it would be so easy to just reach out with a finger to pet it. Your brother wouldn’t notice if you did it quick enough so that you could touch it before he turned around. When you gathered the courage to touch the cloak, you reached out with a slightly shaking hand to pet the fur, watching Technoblade the entire time. 

Everytime he would move to grab a spice, you would quickly retract your hand and try to act as innocent as possible only to try again after he didn’t turn around again. Just as you finally touched the fabric, you were in awe with how soft it was. It was like petting a newborn puppy but better. You truly couldn’t put into words how soft it was. 

You were snapped out of your trance by a small chuckle, “soft isn’t it?” You jumped, quickly retracting your hand and smacking your head against the back of your chair in the process. You could feel your cheeks heat up more than they usually did, you could see the glow of orange intensify at the bottom of your vision. Your brother was staring at you with amusement, his mouth quirked up in a small smile. He was carrying two plates full of steak and potatoes, putting one in front of you before walking to sit opposite of you. 

“Uh, yeah. It- it’s really soft.” 

“I got it from a nation thousands of blocks from here, it wasn’t easy to get. Those guards were not happy to see me stealing from their king.” He chuckled before he started to eat his food. 

“Is that where you got the crown too?”

“No, Dad got it for me as a going away present when I moved out… You’ve grown up so much since I’ve last seen you. I remember when you barely reached my waist and now you’re only about a foot and a half shorter than me.” 

“You’ve gotten taller also, more scars too.”

“You as well. Are all those from water?” 

“Yeah, it only scars when I crack the stone on my skin though.”

“Ouch. So like you get scars whenever you move?”

You shrugged, “basically.” Turning to your plate, you struggled with not wolfing down the entire thing in one go. You didn’t want to have your brother get the impression you had bad table manners. Wilbur raised you better than that. When you took a bite of the stake, you moaned slightly at the taste. Quickly swallowing your mouthful, you looked at your brother with wide eyes. “Ender Tech, where’d you learn to cook? It’s delicious.”

He gave you a small bashful smile and shrugged, “when you’ve been living alone for this long you pick up on a few things.”

“I’ve been living alone for about a year now and I still can’t cook.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “well what do you eat then?”

“Just an apple a day, maybe a potato too if I have any to spare.”

He narrowed his eyes, “how the hell are you still alive? That’s hardly enough.”

You blankly stared at your plate, “I’ve been asking myself that everyday, things aren’t… amazing living alone. Uh, let’s talk about happier things. I wanna get to know you.”

He stared at you for a while before he sighed, “fine, but we’re talking about this later. How do you wanna go about getting to know each other?”

“It’s gonna be hard cuz we have like seventeen years to catch up on, but I think we can do it. Let’s… let’s play the favorites game. We take turns naming a category and we both say what our favorite thing in that is. I’ll start, what’s your favorite type of mythology? Like Greek, Egyptian, Norse…”

His eyes lit up at the mention of mythology, “I like Greek mythology. I can talk for hours about it.”

“Nice! I personally like Norse mythology better, we have to exchange myths sometime.”

“My turn, what’s your favorite myth?”

You matched his excitement, “I really like the Ragnarok myth. The fact that the gods know of their impending doom and destruction and are actively working towards it is- is just really intriguing. What’s yours?”

You both abandoned your meals as your conversation diverged into telling each other various myths from your respective favorite mythologies. Your favorite ones he told you were the tales of Orpheus and Eurydice, Persephone and Hades, and Psyche and Eros. You were a sucker for romance even if the thought of you being in a relationship was something you were uncomfortable thinking about. Romance stories just made you happy to see people finding comfort and fulfillment in each other. You told him more about Ragnarok, the creation of Mjolnir, and the murder of Baldur. 

Before you two knew it, hours passed by. Your untouched dinners grew cold and the clock struck midnight startling both of you out of your story telling. You both looked at the grandfather clock then back at each other in shock, “we’ve been talking for four hours Tech.”

“Yeah, we did. It- it was nice talking about mythology. Usually people get bored when I talk about it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Ender, I know. Why don’t they find it as interesting as we do? It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to talk to, it’s nice.”

“We better go to bed, we can just eat a bigger breakfast tomorrow before we take you to the Nether and your house. You probably want to sleep in your own bed.”

You laughed nervously, “yeah about that… I don’t really have a bed anymore. Or an actual house for that matter.”

“The fuck happened?”

“I may have burnt it down accidentally.”

He was silent for a bit before he looked at you suspiciously. “Are you gonna burn my house down?” And there’s the thing you hated most when you told people of your lineage and abilities. They always believe that you’re a being of destruction and inferno. They always grow to not trust you around them or their possessions fearing you would burn them to a crisp. You cursed your biological parents daily for giving you these genes.

You shrunk in on yourself slightly, “no, I’d never do that to you. I’m in control as long as I keep my emotions in check. Can’t get too excited, scared, or happy. I just can’t do anything extreme and my temperature stays low.” 

He grunted, nodding in satisfaction. “We probably should get to sleep soon if we wanna get stuff done before the family reunion.”

“I forgot about that… Have you met the kid Phil’s gonna adopt?”

He drew in a long breath into his nose and huffed it out of his mouth. “Yeah, his name’s Ranboo. And he’s actually only about half a year younger than you are. I don’t know how to feel about him yet, but he seems like he has good intentions.”

You drug a hand through the flames idly flickering on your head, “is Phil seriously gonna adopt another kid? I don’t think it’s a good idea for him.”

“That’s what I thought, I don’t need any more orphans running around here. You, Tommy, and Wilbur are more than enough. We can talk more about this in the morning.”

With that, you picked up your plates and took them to the kitchen. Before you could turn on the water faucet, a hand on your shoulder stopped you. “I’ll get it. You can’t be around this stuff.”

“A little water won’t hurt me. It’s the least I could do, you made dinner.” 

“A little water will hurt you. Go to bed, I’ll handle this. It’s only two dishes.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but it snapped shut as soon as he gave you a warning look. “Go to bed (y/n).”

“...Aright, thank you for doing that. I’ll see ya in the morning.”

He grunted as you walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the guest room. You walked straight to the bed and plopped down onto the surface. You felt sort of bad that you were rubbing soot off onto the white comforter from your still charcoaled skin, but it was nothing that you couldn’t clean in the morning. The bed was extremely comfortable, a stark contrast to your old one. Your old one had lumps and some exposed bedsprings sticking out of the fabric. With the weight of the heavy comforter and the plush mattress, you were out like a light.

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