#NEED HIM TO BE REALL
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
a random thought/imagine because I NEED to run into a Miguel at a Mexican party and falling in love with him! @fairlyang 's post got me going, I was going to reblog my crazy scenario through their post, and then this turned TOO LONG (I'm delusional, so that's why this is so detailed)!!
If you're not Latina/Mexican - just hear a delusional woman out plsssss (me hoping to manifest by writing this fr fr)
Going to a Mexican party, sitting at a table with my family because soy una muchacha seria y callada (I'm a serious and quiet girl), so I'm not on the dance floor, but I see Miguel in the crowd with the other men talking, dressed with a sombrero and botas (cowboy hat and boots), wearing gold jewelry (he's Mexican he has to wear gold jewelry, sorry not sorry).
I'm trying very hard not to stare and make it obvious because my fam is there and I'm a good family girl, a proper señorita, who hasn't been with anyone nor has done anything with anyone (this is my version guys, so don't mind the personal touches here) but !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'M ALREADY IMAGINING WHAT HIS VOICE SOUNDS LIKE, HOW MUCH TALLER HE'D BE IF I WERE STANDING IN FRONT OF EACH OTHER!! I'm subtly -oh so subtly- admiring his large broad shoulders and BACKKK (having some serious thoughts about this part; hint: my long nails, anywayyyy), the way he stands, his thick thighs, the way he lifts a cup to his mouth, his laugh, his smile - yall, I'm planning a whole wedding, even though I know I'm not making a damn move because your girl IS SHY IRL (a moment for the shy girls ✊🏼😔), but a girl can daydream behind the centros de mesa (table centerpieces) my mom and grandma are taking home by the end of the night!!
I keep watching him, subtly, telling myself it's silly but I keep daydreaming anyway. IT'S FREE!!!!!!
He ends up spotting me from across the room while some love song is playing in the background because you know, Latinos and our love songs!! It's probably something like "Háblame de Ti" by Banda MS or some song by Grupo Frontera like "Bebe Dame" 😍 (iykyk) anyway, the music is not helping your delusional girl (me, you, us, everyone).
Imagine imagine imagine - MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH HIM AS HE BRINGS THE CUP TO HIS MOUTH WITH A LITTLE SMIRKKK-(why did I just get goosebumps?) YALL YAL YALL
Freezing up and going through all stages of grief because I was caught staring !!!!!!!!!!!! I look away, trying to play it off even though my cheeks are the color of the red flowers adorning the room!!! I'm drinking some water, trying to C H I L L because I can feel his gaze on me.
Thinking it's safe, I look again AND - HE'S STARING
Then for idk how long it's just a lot of ignoring/pretending that's not happening because once again, I'M SHYYYY (once I get to know you I open up but like, it takes a hot week) but I'm just thinking, "este hombre" (this man; also wondering what his name is and why I've never seen this man before???) because I'm literally dying pretending I'm okay and fighting the inappropriate thoughts while sitting next to my grandma because Miguel keeps staring, going along with his conversation with the men (who have noticed him staring and probably tease him about making a move, or telling him to forget it because "esa muchacha/morra no baila con nadie" (that girl doesn't dance with anyone). So he just watches from a distance, trying to gather some info and noticing little things like how I'm avoiding his gaze, the nervous smile, trying to pretend that side of the building doesn't exist-
and thennnnnnnnnnnnnnn
at some point he leaves his side of the room, steps determined. I once again *subtly* notice this and then freak out when he's coming my way but I'm like "no way, right? right?" *hearts racing abnormally*
IMAGINE HIM APPROACHING THE TABLE AND INTRODUCING HIMSELF TO YOUR PARENTS AND GRANDMA, OR WHOEVER ELSE IS THERE?? And then looking at you, giving you a gentle, soft smile WITH SOME MISCHIEF BEHIND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BROWN EYES YOU'VE EVER HAD THE PRIVILIGE LAYING EYES ON AND MAKING YOU FEEL THINGS - or like a commenter said the other day in one of my posts "senti cosas de mujer" (I felt women things)!! YOU'RE FEELING THINGS THINGS !!!
AND HE ASKS YOUR PARENTS IF HE CAN ASK YOU TO DANCE WITH HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BECAUSE HE REALIZES YOU'RE A FAMILY GIRL, AND THAT'S HOW HE'S GOING TO WIN YOUR FAMILY SO HE CAN HAVE YOU BECAUSE MANS HAS ALSO ALREADY PLANNED THE WEDDING RECEPTION'S MENU !!!!!!!!!!!
ok bye, thank you for listening to my unhinged scenario but in all seriousness - God - I've seen what you've done for others !!!!! Send a Miguel O'Hara lookalike my way with sombrero y botas, chest hair, and gold jewelry, and who knows how to fix the light that turned on in my vehicle, which I've been ignoring for months, and who helps with the masa for the tamales para Navidad (helps with the tamales dough for Christmas) because he has large, warm hands 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼
#unhinged alondra#??#this is my dreammmmmmmm#NEED HIM TO BE REALL#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x you
117 notes
·
View notes
Note
thinking about “it’s because you desire nothing bro” again. why did he say it like that…
mob after that conversation
#mp100#but for reall ritsu is so fucking silly goofy and i love him#his vibe is truly unmatched to be honest#the patient needs to say strange and frequently over-the-top things to live!!!!#asks#i saw an opportunity with this one thank you#my art
195 notes
·
View notes
Note
the way that I need Jon so bad bc 1. he's a great character, 2. ive imprinted my boyfriend on to him its actually so embarrasing (my boyfriend is also angsty and has prematurely white hair and doesn't* believe in the supernatural)
.
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
#myart#doodle#art#elemental#elemental 2023#ember lumen#wade ripple#i think my fem design is a bit lackluster but hay man!! im not getting paid for this#i am not original enough to care if my design is basic :p#people need to get on the fem wade train for REALL#u could hc him as transfem opr just afab either could work for real#his sibling is non binary so his family would 100% be supportive#someone should actually write a fic of that I WOULD READ#omg#SOMEONE DO THAT PLS#tag me if u do pls pls#also i saw a matching hello kitty pajama set and i had to draw them in it#just pretend its fire proof shje deserves fashiopn too.#BYE HOLD ON THE HAND I DREW IS SO FUCKED that would hurt . YKW. hes literally water its fine. ITS FINE.
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
i need 2 get back into painting fish
#said in the ‘gary i need’ voice#or painting in general . i want 2 get into plein air#and go to like . arizona or smth and paint the landforms . soo red and orange and rocky and dusty and ❤️🫶#the round brushstrokes on tht 1 would be so much fun~_~#its such a tiresome medium though.like all the set up and cleanup and stuff#i refuse to learn abt oil precautions so i just stick to acrylic but even then it dries so fast and its like.mindgame trying to decide what#to focus on in the little time u have . and god forbid u paint on a layer too soon and u lift it off the canvas#HELLLLLLL. but the end result is always so worth it . like holding a physical piece.its 3d .its REALL#fish r so much fun to paint bc 1 u get to pay attn to their morphology but 2 they jave the best textures#im not averse to painting fur but i lovee . the interplay btwn light and fish skin. its so epic and awesome#the only other artist ik of in my family is my uncle & he METALWORKS!!! FISH !!! ITS SOOO FREAKIG COOL#i want to learn from him so bad . guh.GUAHHHHH. anyways i just think its funny that the two of us r fixated on recreating fish#crosses my arms .#okhh.. i also wnt to get into mosaics . god.GOAODDD#did i talk abt this 1 alr.. reread the b1p arc w the mosaic and fresco work and it makes me so sick why couldnt i go to art college and make#frescoes and mosaics .woe is me or whagever . no but its so tempting 2 just buy some tesserae and get 2 it ..#i saw a pigeon mesh mosaic n it like lit that fire under me . what we need js like one giant art collective#that magically provides all the supplies in the world for free and we hold hands and make art in 20 different disciplines 2000 different wys
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
weirdly sexually charged stress dreams i did not need you actually. it gets very uncomfortable and confusing very fast when my family becomes suddenly involved.
#i used to get ''called back to work on a shift for my old hotel job'' dreams that were stressful and i usually was missing my shirt#last night was the first time i had a ''hey i don't work for YOU anymore why am i being pressured to do this Thing?''#about the job did for my dad#like contract work (again)#(i went from contractor to hourly to salaried and then i left and he offered contract work again through their company if i really wanted#to come back in a minimal capacity)#(which i might have taken him up on if i didn't need money to live and he paid better but living on $10.5/hr or less depending wasn't reall#doing it for me anymore in 2019-2020 and beyond actually)#(because this time i was starting from absolute zero and didn't have another job to supplement the income)#anyway... i'm somehow MORE tired and exhausted and upset being awake now than i was in my dreams#no sex no satisfaction no completed tasks and no one understands me - my favorite type of dreams#(sarcasm)
1 note
·
View note
Text
the audacity of daddy pedro pascal.
#pedro pascal#that lil fucker reall be out there huh#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#how can anyone actually be that damn attractive and i don‘t just mean his daddy fucking looks i mean his fucking huge heart#but honestly you‘ve seen these pics right?#HOW FUCKING RUDE CAN A MAN BE!!??#i need a break from him jeez bye
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Idk I'm just ╮(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)╭ give him some time.
#also always take everything he says with a grain of salt#its not like i can just up and fly to finland to see him lol#it sucks i know#especially to hear something quite disheartening from the artist's own mouth#from his point of view i can understand fully#its a sucky siruation tbh#people want him right now#he's tired maybe this fame thing isnt working out like he's imagined and hes disillusioned#i dont think he will change his opinion that much#he needs better management tho#oh well#i see a lot of people being a bit disappointed and i cant realls blame them to be honest#no matter what anyone says#i think this is one of those situations where no one is a winner
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
I think it’s much easier for Tommy and Maria to reconcile in the game than it will be in the show because in the game, Maria could probably forgive him for leaving just her and losing himself but could Maria from the show forgive him for abandoning their kid, just after Uncle Joel dies and then when he does come back, he’s changed that much that I think with a child it’s just harder to have him around
Exactly
You break a woman’s heart, that’s one thing
you break her BABY’s heart, all bets are off
#And i havent played the game but it seems like hes reall messed up emotionally after seattle#He will need to really work on himself and also do some grovelling before maria lets him back in her house#Asks
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
i hate tumblr new format. alsooo whatd i miss
#listen my tumblr writing voice is disappearing since all i post are instagram CFs.#alas whats#errr i went to ecuador over the summer and holy i love cocktails#i got drunk for the first time and the next date went hungover to a diff date and then got into a relationship but i broke up with him like#two days ago#IB Y2 is effectively killing me and the last thing i needed was someoen that drained me#also i found an argentine show called rebelde way from the 2000 s#go di need to rant about it i feel so strongly like i just im so frustrated school is so much and i am bf-less (for the better) and#i turn 18 soon and i start college next sept and im gonna major in math and OH BUT i dont want to be alone i hate being alone oh oh oh#bu the show is so good but my deadlines are so heavy but the show but pablo and marizza#IB took over sm of my life like yeah i let it consume me but oh god oh oh oh#i hadnt had a legit interest or show i liked bc i know i get deranged about them#godd im also one of the only 2 girls left in the program#and i need to hit the gym bc like. grad is soon and why are boys in my school so mean#in ecuador this isnt a thing like friendships are sm closer in ecuador and dynamics are so different and oh i yearn to be with tehm i reall#do but the country is like not okay and i had a kidnapping scare but oh oh oh to feel loved by the people around you#anyways what else#sorry i disappeared fellas
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
have started listening to malevolent podcast. on ep like 4. Current theory is mr voice in arthur's head is big eldritch thingamabob the cult is in to and every time Arthur kills someone he gets more control (arthur's partner, eddie). Have no idea if Mr Voice will end up being cool and besties with Arthur but i hope so bc i love Venom From Marvel Comiques
#uhhhmmmm also maybe the reason wack shit keeps happening is bc its Mr Voice's like. disciples trying to reach him??#im liking it so far i think the only thing bugging me a lil is they restate stuff a lot#like theyll say what their goals are and then like a minute later theyll go What Are Our Goals You Need To Make A Decision#also everyone now and then a dice sound plays and i have no idea why#like it could bc meta bc i do know that theres audience participation but idk might be a diagetic thing cos it#seems to happen when they try to notice stuff?? or learn something?? idk#but yeah its fun!!!#WAIT but i do also thing its weird that arthur had like No reaction to learning supernatural shit is reall#but idk if thats a wariting thing on purpose bc pre memory wipe he knew about this stuff#or just. idk a lil silly writing choice
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
It's giving the...main character syndrome. like who tf does she think she is??? Y/N???
NO OH MY GOSH ANON. LET ME TELL YOU. LET ME FRIGGIN TELL YOU.
#okay so i need to give her a name. we will call her yn bc she is just so different and quirky and not like other girls#so i haven't liked yn since freshman year (am a junior) because she seemed incredibly pretentious. she has like awards n stuff for this#asian advocation group and tons of other stuff which is GOOD. but she has a tendency to brag and be very cocky about it.#AND YOU KNOW WHAT. IT WASNT JUST ME. MY FRIEND FROM SEMINAR who we will call Pie for certain reasons (her name rhymes with it) AGREED WITH#ME ABOUT YN BEING COCKY! and Pie and Yn are in the same group since they are both Asian and ppl at my school typically hang out w their rac#is that racist? like there's an asian boys group and asian girls group. but it's only asians and white people; but it's weird since a large#portion of my school is hispanic. i dunno WEIRD SIDE TANGENT BUT BASICALLY THEY ARE IN THE SAME GROUPS; RIGHT? so Pie was agreeing that Yn#can be very pretencious; and I'm then like#oh i don't really like her for the cheating stuff she did with Mac (fake name) and how she got#him to basically cheat on his girlfriend“ and Pie says ”oh well Mac started it; but Yn lead him on for over a month while he had a gf#and they kept this going until Yn decided to break things off; WHICH MEANS MAC'S NOW EX GIRLFRIEND NEVER KNEW ABOUT ANYTHING W MAC N YN!#also allegedly according to my boyfriend; Yn was doing homework as Mac was yk DOING it to Yn and she just like... LET IT HAPPEN WHILE HE HA#A GIRLFRIEND. HELLO? and when Yn ends it; he's like “omg but yn... i love you...” “no. i'll only hurt you; if you're with me it'll only hur#uh okay 25k words slowburn vibes.... ANYWAYS so she takes screenshots and sends them in a SUPER big groupchat with 20+ people (including Pi#and my boyfriend) and Pie (who was childhood friends with Mac) called her out saying how it was also kind of her fault for being with a guy#who was in a relationship; but she got super defensive about it. and this same thing happened AGAIN 2ish months later with a girl Jas and#her boyfriend Ben; where Yn was friends with both but basically was emotionally cheating with Jas; leading them to break up; and then she#GOT WITH JAS. HELLO???? WHAT??? and they r still together. none of them talk to Ben even though Yn said they were 'all cool and friends'#SUREEEE GIRL SURE. KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT. and Pie called her out on this AGAIN since Pie is friends with Ben and Jas too but Yn got#defensive AGAIN! BC SHE KNOWS ITS A SHITTY THING TO DO! and Pie doesn't really like her because of it and when Pie told me all of that I wa#in shock. because Yn was trying to play the victim in the situation with Mac when she sent the messages to the gc; and tried to do that AGA#N BUT IN THE SITUATION WITH JAS LIKE NO U ARE JUST A CRAPPY PERSON ! and appearently she is SO toxic she was nearly kicked out from a#leadership role at my school's asian pacific islander club or something! like girl WAKE UP! but that's not all; so i didn't know she was#known for going for people who had partners; yet still didn't like her; and last school year (about 4 months ago) my boyfriend got a 'reall#bad haircut' (i thought it was cute; but everyone made fun of him ) and Yn RAN around our campus trying to find him to make fun of him..#like wtf that's so weird and she will post screenshots of their convos on her story and be like 'omg he's bullying me!' when he's being dry#and did that in the gc (this time; i'm in it!) and i crashed out but my bf was apologizing and saying he told her to not post anything but#she didn't listen or something i guess. and sometimes when they are wearing similar outfits she'll post on her story that they are matching#um girl he has a wife and 12 kids. back the FUCK off. and i told him to distance himself from her or set boundries cuz i don't like that n#it makes me uncomfy; so he did which is good! but i still don't like Yn. she is a major pick-me IMO and very two-faced and covers her
1 note
·
View note
Text
sorry that i come harder when i whimper hannibal's name, as if that's my fault
1 note
·
View note
Text
pairing: jason todd x reader
summary: jason takes you to his gravesite.
content warning: smut, sex in a cemetery, missionary, a lil angst if you squint
⠀ ͚ ♥︎ —
you thought he was joking when he told you he died before —buried 6 feet deep. you didn't find it funny but let out a few laughs anyway. “yeah, reall funny, frankenstein." until you looked at his face. oh. he was serious.
he didn't want you seeing his grave. shooting the idea down the second you asked but he knew you wouldn't be able to let it go so after a week he finally agreed.
sitting on the grass in front of his headstone, softly caressing the granite. running your fingers across his name. he watches you with tear filled eyes before lowering himself next to you. resting your hand upon his, silence fills the air as you look at his face. he refuses to meet you gaze —eyes locked on the singular rose you placed on top of the tombstone. cupping his cheek to turn his head towards you, he leans in to your touch. pressing a kiss to your palm as a tear escapes his eye.
“i got you now"
panted breaths and clawing fingers. jason's big hands encircled the flesh of your waist, pulling you on to his lap as he kisses you with a possesive urgency. fingers matching that same intensity. he claws at your hair, trailing down to your back. a whimper escaped your lips, swallowed by the intensity of the kiss.
as it broke, your foreheads rested against each other. a string of saliva connecting from your mouths. your fingers trailing from his neck to his hair, gripping the strands. he takes a sharp intake of breath
“i need you” his voice raspy and filled with desperation.
you look around at your surroundings but his palms on your cheeks bring you back. “now. please, baby." eyes pleading.
you pull him into another kiss full of teeth and tears. his lips move along your face, biting your lip, cheek, and neck as you fumble with his shirt.
choked breaths escaping your throat. hips grinding against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.
off off off. he mumbles under his breath as he wastes no time ripping your shirt.
“jason!”
ignoring you, he flips you over. laying his body on top of yours. separating for just a moment to remove his own shirt.
“tell me you love me" his voice just below a whisper.
you reach for him but he moves to interlock your fingers.
“i love you, baby” squeezing his hand.
"tell me you need me." he croaks out.
“i need you, jay." you whimper. “always."
after removing your pants, he removes his own. fitting himself perfectly between your legs.
capturing your lips in a kiss as he positions his cock against your hole.
the feeling of him filling you makes you cry out in ecstasy. jason groans the whole time your tight cunt engulfs him. he rolls his hip slowly. nice and deep. hiking your leg up over his waist.
burying his face in your neck as you hold him. your hands find purchase in his hair, and you grip the dark strands. chanting i love you's in to your skin like a mantra.
sinking his teeth into your skin as he picks up the pace. heavy breath's leaving your lips. eyebrows pinched. one hand leaving a trail of bloodied scratches down his back.
"fuck i love you, jason." you cry out. “jason i love you.” your hand lands to the side of you, gripping the grass. his pelvis grinding hard against you. the tip of his cock hitting something inside that makes your eyes cross and your body tense.
looking to the side, your eyes lock with the angels a top his tombstone. body bouncing with each thrust.
uh uh uh's the only sound you can make. gripping jason tighter, your eyes swelling with tears as they trail down to the middle.
HERE LIES
JASON TODD
#jason todd x reader#jason todd prompt#red hood x reader#jason todd drabble#jason todd smut#red hood smut#dc jason todd
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
PINING.
𝓢. ㅤㅤthings they do to show that they like you.
OT7ㅤ✶ ㅤ (⠀gnreader⠀) . . . friend!enhypen, pre relationship, this is a revamped post from when i first started my account, sunoo's the craziest one here for sure, a singular death joke, not proofread so pls ignore typos.ㅤ817 words
lee heeseung refuses to let you carry anything. he’s made it a habit of grabbing anything that you’re holding and carrying it himself. whether it be shopping bags, your purse, a stuffed animal that he won for you, or groceries, he will be carrying it all. sure, it may be a little hard carrying 15 different bags of groceries up to your apartment but he doesn't mind. even as you complain, saying that you feel bad that he has to carry everything when you can help, he'll just laugh you off, asking you to let him do this for you. you do a lot for him (unbeknownst to you) and this is the least he can do.
park jongseong asks for your opinion on almost everything he does. he'll ask you if he should buy this shirt or that one, watch looks better, what he should eat. it’s like he lost all ability make choices for himself after he gained feelings for you, only trusting your opinion. maybe it's because he wants to have things that you like, who knows. what everyone does know is that the contanst buzzing coming from your phone? jay. he's most definitely texting you about whatever it is he feigns needing help choosing, but he can't help it if your opinion is the only one that matters to him.
sim jaeyun loves to go shopping with you; he literally begs to be able go even if you tell him that you're just going to window shop. not to mention the fact that he is so serious about shopping; he’ll put his phone on do not disturb, giving you his full attention. when you ask him was store he wants to go to he'll shake his head, claming that this trip is for you and if he reall needs something then he can go on his own time. he always ends up buying your stuff for you, waving you off as he gives the cashier his money.
park sunghoon calls you every single night just so that he can fall asleep to your voice. in the beginning he asks you about your day, listening intently and asking follow up questions. he wants to hear your voice for as long as possible, especially when he went the whole day without talking to you. when you ask about his day, though, he gives you the most basic answer possible and moves the conversation back to you. and every morning, without fail, he claims that he didn't mean to fall asleep but your voice is way too soothing for your own good. you figure that he's not telling the full truth after you hear him say goodnight and he doesn't hang up the phone.
kim seonwoo takes more pictures of you than he does of himself. you swear when you caught a glipse of his gallery you saw an album named 'yn' that featured over seven thousand photos of you. which yes, you saw correctly, he has a very full folder full of pictutes of you. most of them aren't even good but he would rather die than delete the ten, nearly identical, photos of you laughing or the blurry video he got while you were ugly crying because of some movie. he also uses them to tease you—laughing when you tell him to delete it. yeah.. he's almost all out of storage, at this point he's going to buy a burner phone just for photos of you.
yang jungwon loves to texts you updates about his day. if you think jay texts you a lot, oh man, jungwon beats him by twenty miles. he'll tell you his plans who they're with, what he's planning on eating, the cute cat family he saw on the street (pictures included). this man tells you everything, every thought he has it feels like. honestly, he only bothers going out so that he has an excuse to text you, it makes him smile brightly at his phone when he sees your responses. when you start sending him updates about your day? he gets so happy, it's his favorite part of the day to hear from you now, nothing else could ever compare.
nishimura riki does not know what personal space is. he's always touching you in some way, even if it's subtle, like your shoulders pressing together when you're sitting on the couch, watching a movie. when you walk somewhere together, you have to push him away multiple times because he's practically on top of you with how close he is. when you're hanging out with friends, he tends to wrao an arm around your shoulder or lean his head against yours. your friends tease him for it, saying that he's practically apart of you now. he glares at them playfully, gripping your hand in his as he pulls you away (he just really wants to be alone with you).
#ㅤ⠀ ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა ♡ ㅤ⠀#enhypen x reader#enhypen x you#enhypen x y/n#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#enha headcanons#enha x reader#enha x you#enha fluff#enhypen imagines#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#niki x reader#riki x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sick Days
Summary: The Creepypasta guys are feeling a little under the weather. You, their lovely partner, spend the day taking care of them (whether they like it or not).
Characters: {Separate} Jeff the Killer x Reader, Ticci Toby x Reader, Masky x Reader
TW: Very domestic and fluffy, slight bickering
Words: 6.7k
A/N: Sorry for the delay! More Christmas-themed works coming out shortly!
Seven days of pure snowfall and ice.
It had snowed a lot—a thick blanket of white across the forest deep enough to get your boots stuck in. Winter always seemed to roll around the Slenderwoods a little later in the year, but when it did, it was brutal. And, with so much pristine white covering the ground, the mansion was on full display in contrast to the grayed-out trees.
Slenderman gave his orders. This meant longer missions, longer days in the frigid temperatures, and even longer nights recovering. You would think natural-born killers would have some inkling of instinct to keep themselves alive, but when they all returned practically half-dead…
Thick jackets and worn shoes piled by the door, somehow still defrosting and leaving obnoxious puddles of water wherever you stepped. Dusty counters were littered with piles of nasty food and dishes, laundry untouched (that wasn’t unusual anyway), and a serious lack of arguing or hysterical fighting between the walls (that was unusual). It seems the weather hadn’t only brought down health, but moods too.
So, when things turn bad in the mansion, where do they end up?
Your front door.
Jeff the Killer ▸
Jeff knocked nonstop until you opened your door, a confused look as to what in the world the killer could need. It wasn’t unusual for Jeff to stop by unannounced; he had made himself at home in your house a long time ago, but it was unusual for him to show up in the middle of the afternoon (broad daylight and all).
“Jeffrey? Are you alright?” Glancing behind him, you could see where his boots made imprints on the fresh snow covering your sidewalk, dusty snowflakes melting in his dark hair.
But, finally glancing up to meet his gaze, you could see it.
He looked terrible. More so than usual. Skin raw-red from the cold winds whipping at him, hair tangled, and head pounding in time with his too-loud heartbeat. You knew about the missions, and you knew what being in the cold for too long could do, you just didn’t know someone like Jeff could even get sick.
Stepping aside, Jeff trailed into your home, shoulders hunched so low you thought he was trying to fall over. All he gave you were hoarse grunts and shaky nods as you helped him strip his heavy clothes, shaking the snow from the sleeves onto the doormat outside. By the time you turned around, Jeff was already halfway down the hallway towards your bedroom.
The killer was so exhausted he didn’t even get his muddy boots off before he was face down into the pillows and oblivious to the world.
Given the grueling retreat he had just returned from, this would have been a reasonable response. But, as his partner, you knew better than most: Jeff never sleeps, especially when he has a fresh mission to brag about. It only took his ragged coughing and blatant pitiful state to figure out you were going to have to help him.
The can of chicken noodle soup you poured into a bowl, then to the microwave, came out steaming hot. You blew on the contents; the smell was nice as you reached for a spoon, and you made a mental note that you would also need to clean his dirty clothes still caked in mud and (hopefully not his) blood. A small towel under the bowl, and you were making your way down the hall.
Jeff hadn’t even bothered to shut the door; his limp body spread across your mattress like a corpse. He covered his head with a pillow, gripping the fabric and muffling the sputtering snores laced with evident sickness. You had only left him alone to make the soup for a couple of minutes, but that seemed to be enough to knock him out.
Jeff never slept, only when his body really needed it. But right now, his body also really, really needed something in its stomach besides mucus. You set the bowl on your nightstand before slowly kneeling on the bed. What do they say about waking a beast? You couldn’t remember.
You cringed, teeth gritted as you gently placed your flat hand onto his back. His skin was burning, heat practically radiating from him as you easily rubbed up and down his spine. He didn’t even budge, the only sign of life being the gentle rising and falling of his back as he snored into the fabric of his pillows. You ran your hand higher, fingers rubbing across his shoulders and dipping to the arch of his shoulder blades until you felt his arms slowly shift.
His breathing faltered, consciousness rolling back into him as you shifted, letting one leg dangle off the bed as you sat beside him.
“Mhhmn…” He groaned, stiffly turning his face towards you and glaring through bloodshot eyes. You nearly choked out a laugh, scanning his flushed face and horrible eye bags, appearing even more dead than he normally did. It took the killer a minute to register what was happening, his messy bangs sticking to his forehead and matting wildly; it was evident he could’ve slept for the rest of the day and then some.
But it was only 3 pm, and the sun shining through his curtains was made even worse by the reflection of the snow. He needed to eat; there was no telling how much he had worn himself down this past week. Jeff was never very good at self-preservation, especially when you had become a net to fall back on.
“Hey man… You wanna try and eat somethin’?” You tried to keep your voice low, the killer rolling onto his back and rubbing his hands over his face. He grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and slowly blinking at the ceiling.
He nodded.
Reaching for the still-steaming bowl, you cupped the contents in your hands, shifting further onto the bed. Jeff shifted upwards, slowly but surely. It was odd. You had witnessed this man jump fencelines and tackle men double his size, but give him a fever and a headache that can’t be numbed out with alcohol, and suddenly he’s defenseless. You could’ve laughed, taunted him like he often did when you weren’t feeling hot, say something to get his gears going…
But he just looked so… pitiful.
One hand cupped under the bowl, you reached the other out, delivering soft touches with the back of your hand on his forehead. Jeff watched through tired eyes, blinking slowly when your fingers brushed his sweat-damp bangs out of his face, leaning closer to your every touch.
Always loud-mouthed and quick to anger, but right now, he was just calm. His body refused to move as quickly as he wanted it to, and his head was far too foggy with nausea to even consider pushing your helpful hand away. So, he just accepted it. Reluctantly, in his mind, but accepted it nonetheless.
“You don’t look so hot. What happened out there?” You paced the words slowly, taking the spoon in your hand and collecting a bit of the soup before bringing it to his pale lips. Jeff closed his eyes when he took the spoonful in his mouth, drinking the warm broth before letting you bring it back to the bowl for another.
“Forgot to bring extra clothes… Hada’ reuse the same wet shit every day…” His voice was so hoarse, too. He cleared his throat, letting you spoon him another drink of the soup before leaning his head back on the headboard. He sounded like he had been sucking down nothing but cold air, throat raw and scratchy with the sinus infection he was harboring.
A warm shower? Or maybe bringing him to sit in front of the fireplace you had crackling in the living room? You weren’t sure what he needed, but you knew he needed to sweat out this fever before it became a real problem. He reached for the bowl, cupping the towel underneath to set it in his lap before continuing to fish spoonfuls. The warmth of the soup probably did wonders for his sore throat.
You went to stand, pressing off of the bed before a rough hand wrapped around your wrist. Glancing down, Jeff was tugging you back towards him, knotted brows giving a silent question as to why you were leaving him. You smiled, kneeling back on the mattress to place a quick kiss on his way-too-warm forehead. “I’m starting you a bath, alright? Finish your soup.”
Another quick kiss and he was letting your wrist go, satisfied with your answer. The silence was awkward, but vulnerable and quiet. Jeff had no choice but to let you care for him; something about that made your heart so full.
Roaming to the bathroom, you pushed the curtain to the tub back and flipped the faucet all the way hot. Water filled slowly as you rummaged through the cabinet behind your sink mirror, reading various drugstore medicines and cough syrups before shaking a handful of sinus and head cold pills into your hand.
You heard the gentle patter of bare feet stepping onto the tile of the bathroom just in time to turn off the running water, the tub steaming with scalding water. Arms wrapped around your middle gently as you shut the cabinet, Jeff’s nose burying into the crook of your neck as he fell limp against your back.
“Sorry…” He mumbled, his face against your skin as he breathed deep, taking in your smell. You smiled, reaching back to brush his hair back before playing yet another kiss on his warm forehead. “Hush. You need to get better, and that mansion is no place to relax. Don’t worry about it.” Despite reassuring him, Jeff still held a defeated look.
Dropping the medicine onto your sink counter, you turned to help him take off his shirt, his hands doing their best to hold onto your arms the entire time. Clingy.
“I got it.” He huffed, tossing his shirt to the ground.
“I know you do.” You smiled up at him. You undid his belt anyway, undressing him the rest of the way with little protest. There was no flirtatious comment, no sly touches, just a weak, sick boy who wasn’t used to being this vulnerable. It was sweet.
Jeff stepped into the bath, and you left him to get a cup of water. He drank the pills down, skin blotching red with the heat of the water, but at least he looked more relaxed. He was so lengthy, he had to bend his knees to fit comfortably, which you laughed at.
You knelt beside the tub, using that same cup to collect water and rinse his hair. You ran your fingers through the messy strands, his quiet groans making you smile as you poured a small dab of shampoo onto the palm of your hand. Tired eyes watched you carefully when you began to scrub his head, lathering the shampoo between the strands and massaging his scalp. He was falling apart underneath you, soapy bubbles drifting into the water while you washed him off.
His hands cupped your own, kissing your wrists. He was being so gentle, it almost gave you whiplash. There was no off comment about you catering to him, or being a jerk just for the hell of it; he was being oddly sweet. Maybe his being sick wasn’t so bad.
Until you zoned back into his coughing fit, strained coughs that looked like they physically hurt. You rinsed his hair, careful not to get the soapy water into the gashes on his face as he settled down.
You wiped the water from his face, his clammy skin wet under your hands as you went to stand. Jeff leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall of the tub while you collected his clothes, letting him know you’d be right back.
You needed to do laundry anyway, so grabbing the rest of the killer’s dirty clothing and tossing them into your load was easy enough. They reeked of dirt and outside, splotches of dried blood staining the sleeves of his hoodie. You didn’t want to know about the mission; you didn’t want to know what in the hell caused these stains, but you were sure he’d tell you sometime anyway.
Starting the machine, you shuffled back to your room, rummaging through your drawers for something that the killer could wear. You ended up on a t-shirt that was baggy on you but would fit him perfectly, a pair of boxers he left the last time he was here and sweatpants that would be good enough until his clothes were dry.
You stepped back into the bathroom, clothes in hand, and Jeff turned to look up at you. He had already cleaned himself off, water slowly draining from the tub as you helped him climb out. “Feel better?”
He nodded, reaching for the towels you had hanging off the edge of the tub and drying himself off. You set the clothes down, hands reaching to dry off his hair as he dressed himself.
You knew it had to feel so much better to be in clean clothes, let alone something that wasn’t jeans and a hoodie riddled with filth. Jeff seemed content enough, but more than anything, he looked tired. Exhausted.
“Alright, time for bed.” The sun was just starting to set outside your window, thick orange light flooding through the curtains as Jeff followed you back into the bedroom. You wouldn’t be going to sleep for some time, but you were sure the killer would be out in minutes.
Pulling back the sheets of your bed, Jeff climbed in, body nearly giving out as soon as his weak body got under the warm covers. “I’ll let you rest, tell me if you need anythin-”
Jeff didn’t give you the chance, barely getting a foot away from the bed before he was dragging you in too. You smiled, his arms wrapping around your waist and throwing the covers over the two of you. “Aw man, you’re gonna get me sick-”
You couldn’t help but smile as Jeff delivered sickly sweet kisses across your cheeks, lying you both down as his arms caged you in, your head falling onto his shoulder. “Then I guess we’ll just have to be sick together then, baby.” You knew a sly smile would break out of him sooner or later.
You both relaxed into each other, wrapping the covers tight as the sun set slowly against the pretty snow. The fireplace still crackled in your living room, the whole house warm compared to the brutal cold Jeff had been forced into days before.
Running your hands through his now-clean hair, Jeff groaned, practically purring when his eyes began to close, tight grip around your back faltering slightly as you realized the sinus meds were finally kicking in, that dazed look behind his expression. As if he wasn’t tired enough, this would have him knocked for the whole next day.
It didn’t matter to you, you’d be there tomorrow to cater to him too, taking care of the killer who rarely ever let himself go like this.
Planting one last kiss on his jaw, you felt his chest slowly rise and fall, gentle snores dragging out underneath you. Leaning back, you grabbed the remote to your TV off the nightstand, turning some show you needed to catch up on with low volume. You realized you needed to relax too, the winter season having you run a mile a minute, so this would be a good excuse to worry about something other than your crazy life.
With one final tug on the back of your shirt, you let your own eyes close, the sun finally set as a pretty blanket of dark sky finally shown through the window.
“G’night [Y/N]…”
-
Jeff was there by your side when you became sick the week after, a terrible fever that wouldn't break no matter how many baths or rags he placed on your forehead.
He felt bad, sure, but he felt even better that he got to make fun of your terribly red face and nasty cough that he didn’t have to deal with anymore.
Even sick, you somehow managed to win every argument or put the killer back in his place. You made him repay his stupidness with healthy fast-food runs and kisses. He quickly learned to keep his mouth shut.
In sickness and in health, you guess.
Ticci Toby ▸
Technically, Toby couldn’t feel the pain of being sick.
He never got the sting of a sore throat, or the ache behind your ears when you sneezed too much, or even the pounding head and body aches that kept people from getting up. No, he bragged about never being defeated by strep throat or the flu.
But what he did feel was the pressure, and the fatigue, and the awful way your stomach just refused to hold down any solids.
So, when it got so bad he couldn’t shove it aside anymore to complete another mission, he found himself knocking on your door.
And he was not happy about it.
“Toby, you have got to lie down.” You huffed, his limp arms in your hands as you tried and failed to drag him towards your bedroom. He was acting as if he couldn’t walk, feet glued to their respective spots in your kitchen. The brunette always played a little childish, but right now he was just being plain juvenile.
“Nah. I just swung by to gra- grab some food, there’s nothing good at th- the mansion.” Even as you held him, the boy still browsed your cabinets and pantry for snacks. You would have been more than happy to offer, but Toby had already eaten a bowl of your chili leftovers, two bags of chips, and was going for pastries next. It was like being sick turned him into a human vacuum.
“I know, but you’re freezing, hun. Your face is so red it looks like you’re going to explode. You need to get under some covers.” Toby could blame that on lying face-down in the snow for an hour, completely oblivious to the pin-pricking sharpness of the cold on his cheeks, or the frostbite that was forming at the edge of his nose. He never felt a thing, completely lost in the weightless blanket of powder underneath him. He would’ve stayed there another hour or two if Tim hadn’t jerked him up and yelled at him for being an idiot.
But now he was here, sick as a dog and getting harassed by his partner who was just trying to help. Tim was sick at the mansion, too. What luck.
“I’m fine. It’s just a co-cold or something. Quit baby- babying me.” Toby couldn’t tell if it was his tics or the uncontrollable shakiness in his hands, but he dropped a pack of crackers he’d fished out of your pantry. He groaned in frustration, crouching down to grab them, but you snatched the package up first.
“You’re not fine, Toby. You’re pale as a ghost, your voice is raspier than usual, and you can’t even hold onto a pack of crackers. Just let me help you.” You set the crackers on the counter and put your hands on your hips, glaring down at him. He glared right back, his dark eyes narrowed and defiant.
“Don’t ne- need help,” he muttered, though the stubborn edge in his voice faltered as another violent shiver racked his body. He clutched his arms around himself, but you could see how badly his fingers trembled. The eye-roll you delivered him could kill.
“Yes, you do. Come on, Toby. Just this once, let me take care of you.” Your tone softened, and you crouched down so you were at eye level with him. “You’re not going to get better if you keep ignoring yourself like this.”
He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours. For all his bravado, Toby wasn’t immune to the weight of your concern. You perceived the world differently than he did, concerned with the trivial things of sickness or relaxation, while the brunette hardly cared if his skin was rotting off (it was). Finally, with a heavy sigh, he muttered, “Fine. But only for a little while.”
“Thank you.” You stood and held out your hand to him. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
Toby reluctantly took your hand, and you helped him to his feet. He leaned on you more than he probably realized, his steps unsteady as you guided him to your bedroom. Once there, you pulled back the blankets and helped him sit down on the edge of the bed. In the light of snow through your window, you really got a good look at just how pale he was, lips a subtle shade of purple that would’ve had any normal boy in a hospital.
You helped him shed his ragged jacket, kicking off his boots until he was in the barest clothes he had stumbled into your house with.
“Alright, lie down,” you instructed, gently pushing on his shoulder. He grumbled something under his breath but complied, sinking into the mattress with a groan. You pulled the blankets up over him, tucking them around his shoulders.
“This is stu- stupid,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. He was facedown, something so childish, like a kid upset his mom was making him go to school.
“It’s not stupid. It’s called taking care of yourself,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Now, stay put. I’m going to get you some water and medicine.”
He didn’t respond, his eyes were already closed. You smiled softly, relief washing over you as you left the room. Finally, he was letting you help. Now all you had to do was nurse him back to health—and maybe convince him that it was okay to lean on someone else every once in a while.
-
The next few days were a blur of soup, medicine, and relentless efforts to keep Toby in bed. He protested at every turn, grumbling about how he didn’t need to be babied, but his body betrayed him. The fever left him weak and sluggish, his usual energy reduced to mere fragments of what it once was. After having to literally calm him down with a healthy dose of cough medicine, he finally stopped berating you.
“This is the worst,” Toby groaned, his voice hoarse as he sank deeper into the pile of blankets you’d tucked around him. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his cheeks were flushed from the lingering fever. What started as cold chills and sickly paleness had sprung into a hot mess of trying to break the fever the brunette wasn’t aware he had. Once his body actually laid down, got some medicine, and got under some warmth, it finally started trying to heal itself. The only good thing about this was his body was so busy trying not to combust that his tics were on the back burner. His muscles were so weak, they really didn’t hold the energy.
“You’re getting better,” you reassured him, sitting on the edge of the bed with a bowl of soup in your hands. “Here, eat this. You need to keep your strength up.”
He eyed the bowl with disdain but reluctantly took it from you. “You’re en- enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Enjoying what?” you asked, feigning innocence.
“Bossing me around.” He smirked weakly, but it lacked his usual snarky bite.
“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But only because it’s for your own good.”
Toby rolled his eyes but started eating the soup anyway. You watched him carefully, noting the way his hands shook less than they had the day before. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
By the third day, the fever broke. Toby woke up looking more like himself, his energy slowly returning. He still tried to downplay how sick he’d been, but you caught the gratitude in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.
“Thanks,” he mumbled one evening, leaning against the doorway as you cleaned up the kitchen. He was wearing one of your hoodies, the sleeves too short for his arms, but all of his dirt-covered clothes were in the middle of a wash.
“For what?” you asked, turning to face him.
“For... y’know. Put- Putting up with me. Helping m- me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on the floor. Even with sickness deteriorating, that pink still lingered in his pale cheeks. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”
“You don’t have to be,” you said softly, walking over to him. “That’s what I’m here for. Next time, don’t wait until you’re half-dead to ask for help, okay? One day you’re going to kill yourself just because you’re stubborn.”
He huffed a laugh, the sound light and genuine. “Impossible.”
“Toby.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll t- try.”
“Good.” You smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek, running your fingers across the scars that littered the skin. He cupped your hand, tired eyes roaming your features as he leaned in, pressing a firm kiss on your forehead. It was only when you reached up to ruffle his hair that he swatted your hand away, but your smile didn’t falter.
-
As the days went on, Toby fully recovered, though he still feined needing to stick around your house just to be sure. Your pantry was nearly run through, and every snack you had planned to eat mysteriously disappeared despite your boyfriend’s testimonials. But you didn’t mind. Seeing him back to his usual self was all the thanks you needed. He would be buying you more, though.
But knowing Toby, you weren’t holding your breath.
Tim Wright▸
The snow was relentless, blanketing the world outside in a thick, quiet stillness.
Tim was a shadow against the swirling white, his broad shoulders hunched as he trudged up the path to your door. His steps were uneven, his breath visible in harsh puffs against the icy air, and it was clear he wasn’t in good shape. You barely managed to open the door before he stumbled inside, shaking the snow off his coat and muttering a half-hearted apology.
“Tim?” you gasped, reaching out to steady him. He was freezing to the touch, his skin pale and his lips tinged with blue. “You’re ice-cold. What are you doing out in this weather? You should’ve called me.”
“Didn’t want to bother you,” he grumbled, his voice rough and strained. He tried to wave you off, but his hands trembled as he shuffled his heavy jacket off. “I’m fine. Just need to get out of all that.” The Operator had shoved him and Brian too far, Masky and Hoodie nearly ready to saw off some heads if they had to spend one more night in the frigid snow. He knew he shouldn’t bother you, shouldn’t cross that line of his affairs and your relationship, but he knew he wouldn’t make it back to the mansion tonight.
“You are not fine,” you said firmly, taking his arm and guiding him toward the couch. “At least come inside and warm up.” You were still in your pajamas, on your way to bed when you heard the haphazard knocks on your door.
Tim hesitated, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, but the weight of his exhaustion won out. He let you lead him, collapsing onto the cushions with a groan. The sight of him like this—so worn down and vulnerable—made your heart ache. Tim was always the strong one, the steady rock everyone leaned on, but now he looked utterly defeated.
You grabbed a blanket from the nearby chair and draped it over him, fussing despite his weak protests. “Stay put. I’ll get you something hot to drink.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, but his voice was softer this time, less convincing. He leaned back against the couch, his head tipping against the cushion as he closed his eyes. You hurried to the kitchen, boiling water for tea and pulling together a simple plate of muffins that took less than a minute to heat up in the microwave. You would make him a proper meal later, right now he just needed to get warm. When you returned, he hadn’t moved, his breathing shallow but steady. You set the tea down on the table in front of him and nudged his shoulder gently.
“Drink this,” you said. “It’ll help.”
Tim opened his eyes, glancing at the cup before taking it with a quiet disgust. He sipped the tea slowly, his large hands dwarfing the mug, and you sat beside him, watching him closely. He much preferred the bitter taste of coffee, but something warm in his stomach was better than nothing. After a few moments of silence, he sighed, his shoulders slumping further under the weight of the blanket.
“I’m sorry, love,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from the tea. “I won’t stay long. You need to get back to bed.”
“I’m alright,” you said softly, “I’ll kill you before that storm does if you make it out that door again.”
He didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he set the mug down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m alright. I’ll rest for a while, then get out of your hair. I need to get back before they send someone after me.”
“That’s okay,” you said, placing a hand on his back. “You’ve got at least the rest of the night before someone comes looking. Nobody is trudging through this storm just to get you, hun. You need to relax. You deserve to be cared for, too.”
Tim let out a shaky breath, his hand scrubbing over his face. He knew there was no fighting it anyway, you held some power over him even he couldn’t figure out. Your sweet words and touches were enough to stop him from war, he thought. “I- Okay, just until morning.”
“Good,” you said, your voice gentle. “Now rest, you need it.”
Tim closed his eyes, the tension in his body slowly easing as he let himself relax. It hurt your heart to see him so defeated, but if it took sickness to finally get him to relax, then so be it. You sat beside him, keeping watch as the snow continued to fall outside, a quiet reminder that even as big and strong as Tim was, he was still just as vulnerable to the cold as anyone else.
-
As the hours passed, Tim drifted off into a hazy state of staring at the fireplace, his breathing rough and uneven. The man didn’t sleep—he never did—but right now you really wish he would. You stayed by his side though, curled up next to him and monitoring his every cold chill.
You couldn’t help but feel a deep ache for him, seeing him like this—so worn down and fragile, yet still trying to be the strong, unbreakable as he always was. He let out a quiet groan as he shifted on the couch, his breath shallow, and for a moment, he barely seemed aware of his own discomfort. You were glad you had lit your fireplace hours before he arrived, the bright glow and gentle cracking of the logs under the flames, the heat radiating well enough to warm the whole house.
You gently touched his arm, trying to stir him from his restless half-awake daze. “Tim, you need medicine,” you said softly, your voice gentle yet firm. "You're burning up, and I need to make sure you don’t have a fever.”
Tim’s dark eyes blinked with confusion, and for a moment, he looked disoriented (meaning he was so far in the pits of his mind that there was no telling how disassociated he had become just from sitting here). The firelight danced on his tired face, casting soft shadows over the sharp lines of his features. “I’m fine,” he muttered hoarsely, but the words were weak, lacking the usual conviction. He barely had the strength to lift his head as he tried to wave you off. “I don’t need any medicine. Just a little rest.”
You frowned, your hand resting lightly on his forehead, the heat radiating from his skin like a warning. He was dangerously close to a fever, and no matter how much he fought it, he needed help. He just couldn’t see it. “I’m not asking,” you said softly, brushing back the damp strands of his hair. “A little rest won’t hold out.”
You wondered how Masky was taking the whole ordeal. You decided if his host was sick and weak, the alter probably wouldn’t want to front in such an unprefferable state.
Tim didn’t argue this time, his eyes flickering with mental strain. He let out a small sigh as you stood and walked into your bathroom, the quiet sound of your movements a comfort to him in the midst of his foggy, feverish haze. You pulled out the small bottle of medicine from the cabinet, one you always kept stocked for moments like these—when he pushed himself too far, too hard, until his body couldn’t keep up with the strain. This wasn’t the first time he had stumbled into your home due to his ailments, and you were very sure it wouldn’t be the last.
You returned to the couch with the bottle and a glass of water, gently helping Tim sit up, his body unsteady as you supported him. His gaze met yours, conflicted, but he didn’t argue. You could see how much he wanted to be strong, to be the one taking care of everything, but right now, he needed someone to take care of him. And you were more than willing to be that person.
“Drink this,” you urged softly, holding the glass to his lips. “It’ll help bring your fever down. You’re not going anywhere until it does.”
He hesitated, eyes narrowing in that familiar stubborn way, but the trembling in his hands gave him away. With a heavy sigh, he took the glass from you and swallowed the medicine in a few quick gulps. He winced, but when he set the glass down, his gaze softened, a brief flicker of gratitude in his tired eyes.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You smiled, brushing a gentle hand over his shoulder, offering the smallest of comforts as he settled back against the couch.
“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied quietly. “Just rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”
Tim’s lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but his exhaustion overtook him, his body sinking back into the softness of the cushions, his glazing over once more against the firelight. You didn’t need him to say anything. You could feel the weight of his gratitude, the trust he placed in you without saying a word.
You moved to the kitchen again. His body was still weak, but it needed fuel to help fight off the cold and the fever. You knew he wouldn’t ask for a meal, never would. But you also knew he needed it. You’d learned long ago that showing care was sometimes the quietest, most effective way to love him—through the meals you made, the medicine you administered, the silent acts of kindness that spoke louder than words ever could.
But, a bowl of soup would have to do for right now.
The smell of broth began to fill the house, a gentle, soothing scent that would help settle Tim’s stomach once he slowly phased back to reality. You checked on him every few minutes, ensuring he stayed warm, covering him with an extra blanket when you noticed him shiver. His breath was a little steadier now, the worst of the fever easing off, and the signs of his discomfort had lessened just enough for him to be able to relax.
You made sure to brew a pot of fresh coffee, too. That breakfast brew he seemed to enjoy so much, the smell wafting through the house and silently altering the man.
Finally, when the soup was ready, you returned to him, holding the bowl and mug in your hands and a small spoon at the ready. He looked up at you, his eyes soft, tired but grateful. You helped him sit up once more, this time offering him the warm, comforting food he needed to heal.
“You’ve got to eat something,” you said gently, pressing the spoon into his hand. “You need your strength.”
Tim took the spoon and scooped a small portion of the soup, eating slowly, savoring the warmth it brought to his cold body. Each spoonful was another step toward recovery, and with each one, he seemed to relax just a little bit more, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let you care for him. He took gentle sips of the coffee, the taste seeming to steady him better than the tea had earlier, the tension lines in his face finally evening out.
When the bowl was empty, you set it aside and brushed your fingers through his hair again, a tender gesture. “Better?”
He gave a small nod, his eyes now fully closed, his body finally beginning to give in to the warmth and the comfort you’d provided. He didn’t speak, but his hand found yours, gripping it loosely, a silent thanks for everything you had done.
“Need anything else?” You brushed his cheek, the stinging warmth still hot on his skin, but evidently cooler than it had been. He scanned your face for a moment, dark eyes roaming over features he had studied a thousand times, but finally had an answer.
“I’ve got a cig pack in my jacket…” The way his eyebrows twinged upwards gave you all the hint you needed, a small chuckle rising from his chest. You slid over to the door where he had discarded his jacket, rummaging through compartment pockets that held tool knives or bullet casings, but finally landing on the half-empty carton of cigarettes, his lighter tucked neatly inside. You picked out one, lighter in hand as you sat back on the couch.
Tim went to reach for the thing before you shook your head, holding the orange end to his lips with a small smile. He took the cig, your hand following and cupping over the end as you flicked his lighter to a spark, lighting the end. It smoldered, smoke slowly rising from the stick and into the air of your house. You would worry about the smell later.
A deep breath in and you could phsyically see the tension in his shoulders loosen.
This went on for the rest of the night, the slow rotation between cigarettes and refilled cups of coffee as you stayed by his side, arms latched around his own as your head rested on his shoulder.
He slowly shed the blankets, too, the sunlight break finally hitting over the horizon and filtering into your living room. By the time his fever was gone (broken in one night out of pure stubbornness), you were quietly snoring beside him, body curled up under his arm.
He took the time to carry you to your bedroom, slotting you under the covers with numerous gentle kisses across your cheeks. He cleaned the living room and kitchen, washing the bowl and mugs he had dirtied and sorting them away, making sure to tidy everything as the early hours of the morning rolled around.
He was there to make you food when you finally woke up, returning every favor you had offered the night before. You found yourself at his side on the couch again, watching the snow in the daylight.
You stayed by his side, your presence a quiet promise that you would always be there to take care of him, just as he had always done for you.
In the warmth of your home, surrounded by the gentle sounds of his steady breathing and the comforting scent of the meal he had made, everything felt like it was exactly where it needed to be. You didn’t need words to say it—your love for each other was already in everything you did.
Thanks for reading!
Comments and reblogs are appreciated!
#creepypasta#creepypasta headcanons#creepypasta headcanon#headcannons#headcanon#creepypasta fandom#creepypasta fluff#creepypasta x y/n#creepypasta x you#creepypasta x reader#marble hornets x reader#marble hornets headcanons#marble hornets headcanon#marble hornets fandom#marble hornets fluff#jeff the killer#ticci toby#eyeless jack#masky#hoodie#brian thomas#tim wright#slenderverse#slender proxy#creepypasta jeff the killer#creepypasta eyeless jack#creepypasta ticci toby#creepypasta hoodie#creepypasta masky#slender mansion
470 notes
·
View notes