#and maybe it’s my cold and wooziness talking. but i miss them. there is nothing to do other than sleep since i am still sick.

[jeanmoreaux]

as a teen i was always so excited to be home alone but now as an adult it’s like. wow. i am so bored without my siblings barging into my room to show me a stupid meme. it would be so great if there was someone around to watch a movie with me. i really miss hearing the white noise of voices from across the room that usually accompany my sitting here and reading a book.

[huenjin]

don't wanna be friends.

pairing: hyunjin x reader | bff2l!au, pornstar!au

word count: 3.705 words

tw: pornstar!hyunjin, nsfw content — dick piercing!hyunjin, multiple orgasms, breast play, breath play, fingering, cunnilingus, marking, penetration, unprotected sex, dumbification, slight overstimulation, creampie, mentions of reader masturbating to hyunjin's porn and the porn explained in detail.

music rec: damage is done | devin hoffman.

note: this was an nsfw ask originally but it got way past the limit, so tada, made it into a oneshot. if anyone was wondering why it's in this format/theme. unedited, like every other work of mine.

you gulp down the next shot under hyunjin's watchful supervision. you've lost count of the shots you have taken and hyunjin has lost count of how many times he has told you to stop, that you are drinking too much.

"he told me that i can't fuck right. that i should at least pretend to fake it to satiate him," you scoff, another tear rolling down from the brim of your eyes and hyunjin wraps his arms around you, pulling into him to comfort you. "i can't— jinnie, i just don't come when he fucks me. i— maybe something is wrong with me. maybe i just can't orgasm when someone—"

"hush," hyunjin slowly taps your back to keep your thoughts shut. "there's nothing wrong with you, minion. you're fine." he pushes your big round spectacles up, calling you by the name he's always teased you with.

you slam the shot glass down, eyes groggy and head woozy from all the drinks you've gulped down. you lean forward, eyes wide open, glasses sliding down as you look closely at your best friend.

hwang hyunjin is attractive. you've always known your best friend is attractive. his bright eyes that light up at the sight of his dog, kkami, running to him right after you cuddled kkami forever. or the way his face morphs into one of disgust when you threaten to put eggplants into his plate. or the way he'd cuddle you when the weather gets too cold. hyunjin is attractive, both in looks and behaviour.

beyond this, your best friend, hwang hyunjin, is insatiable in the eyes of many women and men, including yours. a pornstar by profession, he knows the ways around women, having them come undone in his hold in minutes — you refuse to believe it's orchestrated. you know how he is in bed or at least what the biz wants him to exhibit and that alone has you trembling.

and to make matters worse in your end, you've orgasmed only once your whole life and that was during the time when you played with yourself while stumbling upon his porn (you were randomly searching for one and the temptation to watch your best friend just exceeded everything).

you knew his profession for so long — hyunjin told it to you over a glass of wine that you spat onto his white shirt the minute he told you about it. the conversation was never spoken about after that.

until today.

"what are you doing, minion? damn," he chuckles, "you really look like a minion with those glasses."

you still once you close in on hyunjin. hands on his chest, eyes fixated on his, you lick your lips and hyunjin's eyes widen, eyes unknowingly trailing downwards till he has to tear his gaze away, reminding himself that it's you, that it's his best friend.

"do you want to fuck me?" liquid courage, indeed.

"you must be kidding me?"

"why? you do this regularly."

hyunjin shoves you away, pushing you back against the couch. his eyes narrows on your figure and you fold your arms. he huffs, eyes glaring at you before looking away. he stretches his arm to take a glass and pour himself a drink, gulping it down and feeling the much needed burn in his throat.

"why?" you whine. "jinnie, that's your job. fuck me. you don't mind it. i'll just be one of those girls."

"i do mind it," he raises his voice. "you're not just one of those girls. fuck, y/n, you're the only constant in my life. why would i fuck that up?"

you bite your lower lip, eyes watering at the rejection suddenly. your drunkenness is what stirs the emotional side in you and your heart is heavy. you just want to be able to fuck like everyone else, just want to feel the bliss your friends talk about, the euphoria they reach.

"wait, are you going to cry?"

"no," you bite your tongue from letting out the sob. "i won't cry. you're not the first guy to reject me. this is normal. no one wants to—"

"y/n."

"—fuck me. who would want to fuck the girl that can't orgasm, let alone fake one?" you let out a fake laugh, tears finally rolling down your eyes.

"oh goodness," hyunjin sighs. he pulls you into him for a hug, rubbing your back soothingly. "you're my best friend, y/n. i shouldn't—"

"i want you to," you look up at him. hyunjin heaves in a huge breath. it catches in his throat as he looks down at you. god, he loves you. he has loved you for years now but who would want to be in a relationship with a guy who fucks girls for a living? not anyone sane. you deserve better. fuck, you deserved so much better than him.

yet, his heart won't stay still. his mind won't stop racing with thoughts he shouldn't normally have about his best friend. heavens, you have hyunjin wrapped around your finger and you don't even know it.

"y/n, don't—"

hyunjin loses his last bit of control over your proposition the minute you place your lips over his. it's exactly as he has envisioned. soft, delicate and everything that kept him away from breaking. you capture his bottom lip, kissing him softly, hands trailing under his sweater. hyunjin feels the goosebumps rising up, your warmth seeping into his. it takes everything in hyunjin to keep his hands away.

you pull away, catching your lower lip with your teeth before letting go and looking away, "you won't even kiss me back. am i that worse? do i kiss bad? jinnie, i just want to be—"

hyunjin has his hands on your face, turning it for you to look at him before he has his lips crashing down on yours, taking your breath away. you heave, breath hitching and you gasp.

hyunjin is aphrodite. the very reincarnation of sin. he creeps into you just as you expected, crawling into your mind and captivating every single sense of yours. your hands are in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body. his hand sprawls over your neck and his thumb presses into the neck, rubbing slow circles. he kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his sweater and you are moaning into his mouth.

you pull away for a second, fingers digging into his clothes, tugging at it to be thrown away and hyunjin obliges. helping you out of yours too, the two of you face each other stark naked. you take him in for the divinity he is in your head, eyes trailing down to his slightly erect dick and you gasp.

it's true. the videos don't lie. he is bigger than you had seen, girth firmer than you had envisioned and the frenum piercing has you salivating. it shines under the lighting, your eyes unable to drift away from it, lips parted slightly and heavens, hyunjin can't take his eyes away from you either. was this what he was missing out all this while in the name of friendship?

his lips are back on yours, your breasts firm against his chest as his cock rubs against your inner thigh. it's messy, heavy and has you panting for breath, chasing after his tongue, wrapped around yours like they never want to let go.

quicksand. this is quicksand. you're falling in too quick; falling into everything hyunjin has to offer way too quickly. and you love it. your mind is rid of thoughts. just hyunjin, hyunjin, hwang hyunjin. he pushes back, still kissing you heavily, till your back hits the soft covers of the couch and he's hovering over you.

hyunjin's tongue licks your lower lip, causing you to moan and he's groaning at the sensation, pulling apart for air few minutes later. he cups your face, thumb brushing the side and you lean into his palm.

"i— we should—"

"no, please don't stop," you beg. "not now. please. we're in too deep to stop."

"but y/n—"

"please fuck me, jinnie. fuck me like you fucked soojin."

hyunjin's eyes widens and he pulls away from you. looking at you as if he's staring into your soul, he gulps. "how did you—" his cheeks redden. "wait—" you bite your lower lip. hyunjin pulls the rubber band that holds his hair up, causing the silver strands to fall forward. he runs his finger through it, pushing it back as he holds it tightly to focus. "you watched my porn."

you gulp, lips drying up and you nod, running your mouth quickly to justify yourself. "i did. it was supposed to be a one time thing but—" you look away. "—i touched myself to that. i fingered myself to you fucking soojin and it's the only time i came."

if hyunjin has been just losing it all this while, now, he has lost it completely. his eyes darken, a light growl leaving his lips as he holds your legs and pulls you closer into his kneeling self. you groan slightly in his grip.

"you want me to fuck you like i fucked soojin?"

"yes—"

"want me to fuck you like some doll, huh?" he bends forward, kissing your neck, sucking at the skin till they stain purple to his pleasure. hyunjin marks you all the way to your breasts, covering your skin with both dark and light marks as you repeatedly confirm, "yes, yes, yes."

hyunjin pulls away, staring at you almost tauntingly, licking his lips and running his hand through his hair. he drops the words like they are heavy. "tell me then. tell me what i did and i'll do the same to you, just like you wished."

"you fuck—"

"no," he shakes his head. "in detail. from the very first scene. you'll get only what you ask for. nothing more. nothing less. so, go on, doll. tell me."

the power you hold is insane. you do not know how to use it, however. having never been given this much power, you look at your best friend for a while before slowly telling him. the words seem foreign to you but if this is how it is going to be, and if this helps you come, you're doing it.

"y-you kissed her first." your voice is barely audible. like you're telling hyunjin a secret. hyunjin catches your lips yet again, tongue presses against your lower lip before he slips it in, tangling it with yours as he kisses you. you moan, eyes closing as your hand wrap around his axle, hands pressed on his back. your fingers plays with the few strands of his silver dyed hair at the nape. he pulls back, waiting for you to continue.

with a little more confidence and the huge amount of liquid courage in you, you demand, "you marked her up like you just did to me. i hate that you marked her up. i hated it so much but turned me on."

hyunjin sucks a hickey right above your breast, speaking into your skin, "you hated it, doll?"

"yes. wanted it to be me." hyunjin's teeth grazes your skin and you moan, "fuck." your fingers pull his hair lightly and hyunjin grunts, teeth biting into your skin, making a dark mark that has you arch your back and your thigh to rub against his cock.

"what else did you see me do, doll?" his mouth trails further down to your breast and you gasp.

"you sucked on her breasts. played with it harshly." hyunjin abides by it, sucking on your breasts, tongue lapping around your nipples and drawing out circles by it. "yes, yes— fuck, jinnie, oh my—" hyunjin finds it seductive as fuck that you never complete your sentences as you moan. and he wants you like that — barely being able to say words besides his name. that's all he needed to hear.

"you played with soojin's other breast at the same time like—" his hand is already on your right breast. it pinched the nipple, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger. the pain shoots up and it clouds your senses, causing you to grind on his cock. your arousal leaks through you, and you feel yourself grow wetter with every single flick of hyunjin's tongue.

his right hand is still on your breast, his lips trail downward. your breath hitches in your throat and you let out a shortened sigh as he breathes lowly against your skin, kissing it before landing right in front of your core, wet with want for the man before you.

"so fucking wet and what for, doll?"

"your cock, oh my god. jinnie, want your cock in me. please." you beg, writhing in his hold as he grabs your breast, fondling it in his hold.

"that's not what i did in that video. go on, continue." it's stern with command and has you spitting out the next in sequence instantly.

"you—" hyunjin is playing with your nipples as he waits for you to speak. his finger twist and turn your nipples and you're squeezing your thighs together in this intense pleasure. "fuck, can't think, jinnie. i don't know. i—"

"no, no," he hushes. kissing your pubic mound and licking small stripes, he mumbles, "you have to remember the only porno that had you come, right?"

"you—" you feel his warm breath all over your core and a gush of arousal oozes out. "you had your mouth on her pussy. you ate her out till she came, oh my god. you ate her out—"

"well done, doll." and his lips are on your wet ones. he licks at the lips, pushing it apart as he takes in your arousal, lapping in to take it all. it's merciless. and if you thought his porn was intense, you forgot all about how hyunjin himself was a walking pornography. the way his tongue licks your lips, tip teasing your entrance as he rubs your clit, slowly. he draws small circles over it, tapping at the engorged button till your toes curl in, knees lift up to bend for your feet to press down. your eyes are squeezed shut and your fingers pull at his hair every time you feel the knot tightening.

the room is filled with lewd noises and your moans, resonating through the whole area for you to hear it out in the silence. it's pornographic. the voices you make resemble those that you heard. hyunjin licks another stripe up your sodden lips before wrapping the plump pair around your clit and sucking on it, loud noise of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly.

his teeth grazes over your clit, nibbling slightly till you feel the knot clench in your stomach. it's a vortex forming deep within and from the one time experience you have, you know. it's coming. you're so close. hyunjin rubs your clit furiously, mouth moving back your lip as he eats you out. he pulls apart right when he knows you're soon to come and in a second, two of his fingers are deep within you, rubbing against your inner walls and you're crying out his name just like he wanted.

it's hyunjin, hyunjin, hyunjin. that's all he can hear — his name dripping in saccharine from your mouth, topped with all those insatiable moans that leave your lips and hyunjin quickens his pace. the two fingers thrust in and out of you, finding the spot and rubbing at the walls to elicit a particular reaction — hyunjin is searching. searching for that one spot that will have you ruined for him.

"fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, what—"

the minute he touches a particularly soft area, he has you grinding down on him, chanting his name like a mantra and he knows — hyunjin's found your spot. he rubs it as he curves his fingers, having you arch further into him. he sucks on your clit, fingers thrusting in you relentlessly.

and you come undone so easily that it's a surprise how your ex couldn't do this for you. you see the white under your eyelids as you come undone. hyunjin helps you ride it out. he removes his fingers and licks you clean, taking in every single drop of your orgasm.

"told you that you were perfect," he says, looking at you and smiling. he kisses your mound as he lifts your hips up. "you're the most perfect human being ever. so how in the world could anything be wrong with you?" he wipes away the tears rolling down your eyes, as an effect from the intensity of the orgasm you went through. "so, doll, now tell me what else did i do?"

your mind is blank. you can't think of anything. your mind is filled with just the man before you in all his naked glory and how you just want him. "want you, jinnie. please. i want your dick. please want that."

"that's not the answer to my question," he huffs. "did i not lift her legs up like this?" he lifts your legs and places it over his shoulders. his erect cock is angled right and he rubs the head all over your wetness. you hitch and whine, stuttering how much you want him. "did i fuck my doll dumb? did i fuck out all your brains, baby? oh no. should i fuck you more? can you answer that, doll?"

you nod, lips parting. "want jinnie's dick. want it. want it in me."

"as you wish, doll," and he inserts it into you, pushing your walls apart with his fingers till he thrusts completely into you. his piercing underneath his shaft drags against your walls, the cold metal adding the extra sensation that tingles your nerves. his large hands hold your hips up, your ankles hitting his back bone everytime he thrusts into you. he uses his one hand to hold your wrists together above you as he hits your spot over and over again. the friction of his big cock and the frenum piercing is all too much right after one orgasm. the stimulation is over bearing and you know why the girl in the video has her eyes roll up, tongue out and lips swollen.

hyunjin plunges into you and you gush all over his cock, coating almost all of his length with your arousal. hyunjin is barely in but he is already hitting your spot, hot tip brushing against it vicariously and the frenum piercing cold against it. the friction is enough to have the knot tighten so fast and hard that you know this is going to overpower you. hyunjin lets go of you wrists but you hold them above you obediently. his hand trails to hold your breast, squeezing it and fondling with it; the other holding your legs up securely.

with every thrust, his piercing drags against your walls and his balls slap against your cheeks. tears spill down your face as you scream loudly, "jin-ah, fuck. jinnie, jinnie, jinnie. it's too much, oh my god. i can feel it. oh—"

"you're taking it like a good, good doll for me. you can take more. i know you can." he takes his cock out. he wraps his fingers around it and dragging it across your slit and your core, the frenum piercing rubbing against it and you're ready to snap again.

and without any warning, he enters into you again, this time harshly and with a quicker pace. it is fast and hard and has you gripping onto him for the life of yours, your hands moving to hold his biceps, fingers digging into it. hyunjin fucks you like he wants to take you to heaven and back. like he wants to show you everything you are missing out and that there's nothing wrong with you. it's the men. always the men.

"going to fuck you and show you how you should be fucked. how you should be getting it. going to fuck you dumb, doll and have you be mine."

he doesn't stop. hyunjin is grunting and huffing as he thrusts repeatedly in you, his pubic bone hitting your clit and causing short sorts of heightened sensations.

"jinnie! i'm coming. i'm coming. oh fuck, i'm—"

second one in a span of few hours. if you could think properly, you would be surprised at how you came twice. it's surprising that you've come thrice so far in your whole life and all three times were to be credited to hwang hyunjin, your best friend.

you come around his cock, the white flash spreading under your eyelids and you are weeping. you feel the rushing oxytocin clouding your brain as you clench tightly on his cock. hyunjin doesn't stop however, as he chases after his own high, thrusting even faster if it were possible and overstimulating you. in a few minutes, hyunjin is coming in you. hot white spurts of his cum coating your insides as he thrusts his orgasm out, only to pull it out eventually and have his white come and yours poze out and stain the couch.

your eyes are shut and you are panting heavily, chests rising and hyunjin brushes your hair away from your face, wiping the sweat that has accumulated by your forehead. he places your legs down and mumbles, "you okay, minion?"

"hm," you respond. that's all you can say. you were too fucked out to think or do anything. hyunjin chuckles and slowly getting off the couch, he carefully lifts you up into his arms. you snuggle into his chest, wrapping your arms around him. "where are we going?"

hyunjin barely hears you question with how soft it was. you repeat and it is the second time that he hears it perfectly.

"going to clean you up and rest you in bed. you need to sleep well now." you nod, snuggling further into his chest as he carries you into his bedroom.

hyunjin's wrong, though. when he wondered how in the world anything could be wrong with you, he clearly knew there is something wrong with you.

you are too dense to ever realise how deep his feelings are for you.

[writing-in-a-chipotle]

Unbearably Mortal (Part 2)

(Alcina Dimitrescu x gender neutral reader)

Part 1

Words: ~2.5 K

Summary: In which a lot of things happen and none of them are good.

A/N: Hey, y’all! Back at it again with another chapter! Hope you enjoy!

“Nope nope nope nope… no way in hell…” You shook your head violently, unable to process what Mary had said. “This is… this is all some sort of elaborate prank, right? You’re messing with me. Yeah.” You swallowed. Your saliva felt like acid.

Mary grimaced. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a game. This is very much reality.”

“So… what are they then?” You began pacing the floor, anxiety clinging to the pit of your stomach. “You expect me to believe that they’re some sort of weird, blood-sucking vampires?? You must be out of your mind… they don’t exist! They can’t be real!”

Mary stood up and walked over to you, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. With her blocking your path, you were forced to stop pacing and look at her.

“Listen,” She began, eyes gleaming with fear “I have no need to lie to you. Believe whatever you want to believe, for the only thing on the line right now is your head. Jane and I risked our lives to save you. If we were caught, all of us would have died. So, are you going to freak out and get yourself killed, or are you gonna listen to me?”

You were stunned into silence. Mary was being deathly serious. You nodded shakily.

“Good.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “If you had a mental breakdown and they heard…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to either; the implication was horrifying enough as it was.

“Thank you, by the way,” you sighed, sitting back down on the bed, “you really didn’t have to save me.”

“Honestly, I’m still scared out of my mind,” she admitted breathily, “but I’m glad you’re better now.”

“Thanks.”

She hummed, then pursed her lips. Her frown deepened even more. “Well… now what do we do? The Dimitrescu family is notorious for slaughtering any trespassers they find.”

Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped. “Oh no… oh no, no, no…”

You were stuck. You were stuck in a terrifying castle with horrifying, blood-sucking monsters who would gladly turn you into a mangled corpse on their living room floor. You had no way to call for help, and your parents probably didn’t even know what was happening…

Your phone.

You patted your pockets and fished through them. Let’s see: some dirt, a crumpled flight itinerary, your house keys… aha!

“...what’s in the box?” Mary asked, “I don't think I’ve seen anything like it before.”

You blinked. Box? “Oh, this? It’s my phone.” You rotated it slowly in your fingers so she could easily see all its sides. “It’s a bit larger and blockier than your average iPhone because it’s designed to connect directly to the satellite, making it easy to call anyone from anywhere in the world. It cost me a lot of money, but since I was planning on traveling the world after I graduated, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to have it a few years early.”

Mary gave you a completely confused stare. “What’s an… iPhone? Or a sad-del-light? Did you make those up?”

You frowned, your eyebrow twitching in confusion. “Uh… no? I wouldn’t make anything like this up. You… you truly don’t know what modern technology is like?”

She shook her head. “I’ve… never been outside the village. I have no idea what the rest of the world is like.”

“And you don’t have a phone? Internet? Anything??”

“I’m afraid not,” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, “the Lords don’t allow anyone to leave the village or write letters to the outside world.”

A chill shot up your spine. “That’s… terrifying…”

Mary nodded, then tilted her head, thinking. She pursed her lips and motioned with her finger for you to come closer. You lean your ear to her.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“There are rumors of a girl who escaped the Lord’s wrath,” she began, “apparently, she managed to leave the village unharmed. There was an old hag who used to moan about how her daughter left her for a new life. She sounded half mad, so no one bothered listening to her.”

Your grandmother. She was talking about your grandmother.

And your mom.

This meant that… your mom knew about these crazy monsters? That she let you come here, to a place where you would most likely die? Alone??

Nothing made sense anymore.

You realized you had zoned out of Mary’s story. You shook your head, bringing your attention back to the present.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Uh, sorry, what?” You blinked. Mary was staring at you like you were an idiot. (Which you were, but that’s not the point.)

“I said,” she repeated, “you need to blend in until we can figure out how to escape.”

“That’s… that’s a pretty good idea. And wait….” you repeated her words in your mind. “We? You want to come too?”

“Goddess, it’s like you’re dense or something.” Mary muttered under her breath. “Of course I want to leave! Are you out of your mi-“

“I get it, I get it,” you huffed, interrupting her, “What do we do now?”

“Now,” she folded her arms, “we need to get you a disguise.” She walked over to a tiny dresser in the far corner and pulled out a neatly-folded maid’s uniform. “I hope you’re my size.”

————————

Turns out you weren’t Mary’s size.

You couldn’t help it; your new friend was practically a walking stick. Your shoulders were too broad, your legs too long; but with Mary’s excellent sewing skills, you were able to make it work… sort of.

“Damn, this uniform is itchy,” you complained, scratching at the neckline.

“You’ll grow used to it after a while,” Mary replied. “Now we need to get to work or-“

“We’ll be made into wine. Got it.” You straightened out your sleeves.

She nodded. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you walked quickly and quietly out of the servant’s quarters. Your heart was racing. Every time you turned a corner, you half expected a bloodied monster to jump the both of you and tear out your arteries.

You rounded another bend and nearly walked into Mary. She had stopped suddenly and immediately fled to the side of the hallway, bowing deeply at the corridor. You quickly followed her lead.

The moment you bowed your head, a steady buzzing filled your ears.

Swarms of flies flitted through your vision as they flew down the hall, buzzing excitedly. Maliciously. You don’t know how they managed to convey such emotions, but they seemed…. off.

And then, they changed.

The insects spiraled and spun into a large, buzzing mass, sewing themselves into a completely different form; one with a deep black cloak, ghoulishly pale hands, wild blonde hair…

And blood-stained teeth.

Mary curtsied deeply and you were quick to follow suit. “Good evening, Lady Bela,” she said softly, refusing to look up, “how may we be of service?”

Bela gave a bored wave of her hand. “We’re a bit... short-staffed in the kitchens at the moment,” she drawled, “Mother doesn’t want dinner to be served a second too late. She-” Her eyes fell on you and she stopped dead in her tracks. “You smell familiar, human…” she growled.

Oh no, you were dead, you were dead, you were dead. Cold sweat fell from your neck, and your heart raced. Bela stepped closer to you, brows furrowed and hungry eyes glinting.

“They’re new, Lady Bela,” Maria said quickly.

She raised an immaculate brow. “New, you say?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“... I see.”

It was only a moment before she leaned away, but to you, it felt like hours. The Dimitrescu was a terrifyingly deadly whirlwind, one that seemed to stare directly into your soul… maybe even smell your fear. Bela’s lips twitched, giving you a glimpse of sharp fangs.

“Well then, newcomer,” she hissed, amusement dripping in her voice, “if you’re so eager to serve us, I want you to pour the wine.”

Your heart raced in panic, your hands shaking. Pouring the wine meant seeing these monsters at their most bloodthirsty. It meant you would get caught.

I won’t survive, you thought fearfully.

You quickly dropped into a clumsy curtsy before you forgot yourself. “A-as you wish, Lady Bela,” you choke out.

“Hm… we’ll see, won’t we.” She dissolved into a sea of flies and flew down the hallway and out of sight.

You breathed heavily. Your heart was still going a mile a minute. Before you could say anything, Mary grabbed your arm and tugged you along.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” she hissed. “Not yet.”

You followed her silently to the kitchen. This whole situation was too hard to process… you’d barely been in Romania for a day and you suddenly had to face the reality of your imminent death.

You felt lightheaded. Your vision swam.

“Where are you, draga mea?” A smooth, enchanting voice swirled in your mind. You felt your pulse hammering in your temples. The voice sounded so close, yet so far away. It was familiar and warm… but it was too hard to tell if it meant anything. You were too woozy, too lightheaded…

“It’s time to wake up, darling,” the voice continued dreamily, “Open your eyes for me?”

“...hey… hey!” A familiar voice hissed, “hello? Are you alright?”

Your eyes snapped open.

Mary stood in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. Once she saw you move, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you alright? You haven’t blinked for the past few minutes, nor have you responded to anything or anyone around you.”

“Yeah, I just…” you swallowed thickly. What was wrong with you? “... I just spaced out.” Mary frowned, giving you a suspicious glance, but didn’t push.

You were in the kitchen. Cooks and maids bustled around in an organized fashion, whispering instructions to each other while slicing, cooking, and plating bright red slabs of meat. You definitely didn’t want to know what kind the Dimitrescu’s were eating tonight.

Someone grabbed your arm and you flinched, turning around. It was one of the older cooks, a salt and pepper haired woman with soot-stained clothes and greasy calloused hands. She shoved a a bottle of wine into your hands so fast, you nearly dropped it. She glowered at you.

“As soon as the meal is served, you pop open the bottle and pour for everyone.” She hurriedly rattled off instructions. “When they finish their drink, pour them another. You do not look at them, you do not touch them or their glasses, you don’t even breathe around them. And for the love of the Goddess: Do. Not. Spill.”

You gulped and nodded. You just had to do your job, then leave. That’s all. You could do this.

Or so you told yourself.

The old woman gave you a quick look, and for a moment it seemed she gave you a twinge of a sympathetic smile. But just like that it was gone, replaced by her signature scowl.

“Alright, we go in three…” she held up three fingers covered in burn scars. One second passed. Then another.

The kitchen maids smoothly entered the dining room in one sweeping motion; a flurry of skirts and iron serving trays. You followed them close behind. The maids placed the trays in front of each Dimitrescu before fleeing to the kitchen single file.

And then it hit you.

You were the only maid who was supposed to stay throughout the entire meal.

Without you even knowing it, Bela had assigned you one of the most dangerous jobs at the castle; one where you had to stay, alone, in the same room as four hungry, bloodthirsty vampires.

You quickly began pouring the wine.

You walked around the massive mahogany table, trying your best not to spill the blood-red drink. You poured for Bela first, and you tried your absolute best not to look her in the eye. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw her grinning.

You moved on to the next Dimitrescu: a redhead with glistening fangs. As you poured, she suddenly hissed. In your surprise, you fumbled the bottle. But you didn’t spill.

The last sister (you assumed all three of them were sisters based on their similar appearances) was a brunette with mischievous eyes. You didn’t mean to look at her… you really didn’t…

Based on her low, rumbling cackle, you knew you were doomed.

The last Dimitrescu, the Lady Dimitrescu, was much different than the other three. She was incredibly tall, with a flowing white dress that fell to her ankles, a wide-brimmed hat…

And pearly-white satin gloves.

Why did that seem so familiar?

You shook your head. You had to stop thinking and just pour the wine! You only had one more glass to fill, after all.

The brunette stuck out her foot, and you went down.

You landed on top of the bottle, and it shattered under you. Glass and wine flew everywhere, piercing your clothes, slicing your skin, staining the rug…

And completely drenching the front of Lady Dimitrescu’s immaculate dress.

The air cracked with electricity. “You...” she hissed, in a stranglely familiar voice.

Before you could even beg for forgiveness, the towering terror of a woman stood from the table and grasped you by the collar before you could even blink.

She growled, breath smelling of blood. “You will pay for your insole-“ her breath hitched. Her death grip on you loosened and faded, till you dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

Fearfully, you looked up at her.

Her demeanor had completely changed. Where once stood a cold-hearted monster was a shocked, crying… woman. Tears streaked down her face, dripping from her chin as she sunk to the floor. She didn’t look like a monster, she looked… human.

The lady reached out a gloved hand, then flinched as if burned. She looked lost and confused and sad; unable to process what she was looking at… or rather, who she was looking at.

A chill ran up your spine, fearful tendrils snaking through your system as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

And then, Lady Dimitrescu uttered a single word, barely a whisper at all, and your stomach dropped. Your world spun.

“Y/N?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Everything you had ever known was completely useless, and your life would end at any moment, you were sure. You felt like crying, you felt like throwing up.

She said your name.

Lady Dimitrescu, one of the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, who couldn’t possibly know who you were, had said your name.

It was too much. There were too many strong emotions, too many near-death experiences in one day. Your body was bloody and exhausted, your energy spent.

You collapsed on the dining room floor, and your vision faded to black.

[darling-i-read-it]

Together

Ethan Winters x reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: violence, cuss words, spoilers for re7,

Author’s Note: I changed up the ending of the request a tad I hope you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy! I love writing for Ethan so this was a pleasure.

Requested: by @drinksomecoco, So I’ve just had these two fic ideas floating around that I wasn’t able to commit to. For Resi7, the idea is that the reader is someone Lucas had kidnapped and trapped in his weird saw games. They managed to escape while Lucas was distracted with family things and had found their way into the main house right before Ethan escaped his first family dinner, so they end up with him through the whole sordid affair. After everything is over, Ethan now has to choose between his wife, who he now knows lied to him their whole relationship, or the reader, who admitted at some point that they didn’t have much of a home to go to. Obviously wouldn’t expect anyone to rewrite the whole game’s plot, maybe more reflection while they recover and Ethan has to make his choice

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When you woke up your head was throbbing. You felt like you hadn’t known a moment's peace in days. You should have known, you kept telling yourself. You should have known that going this far out into the wilderness would only bring bad things.

A whole family of bad things.

Lucas was the one who found you out wandering by yourself. Honestly, you wished it was anyone else. He was a sadist and he kept putting you in these sick games. You had beaten him so far but you weren’t sure how much longer you could take.

You sat up in the cold empty stone room and rubbed your head. You looked around. There was a single bulb light above your head, illuminating the room. You walked up to the door and grabbed onto the door handle, not expecting it to work.

To your surprise, the handle turned, opening the door up. You stood there for a moment in awe. You had tried that every time you woke up but it had never worked. You had to be careful. There was a possibility it was all part of Lucas’s games. You took a step forward and looked around warily.

Nothing and no one in sight. He must have just made a fatal mistake. Your breath picked up as you started to walk around his little hellscape. It was a winding place, filled with twists, turns and trip wires. You wanted to run but had to make sure you kept your pace. You couldn’t move too fast with the traps littered around.

You took a deep breath as you opened another door and stumbled outside. You wanted to cry from relief. Air. Outside air. You looked around eagerly, making sure you didn’t see anyone else. It was dark outside. There was a trailer and then a large house to your right. You weren’t sure if you would be able to get away if you didn’t go through the house. Everything else looked pretty fenced in.

You went into the trailer and was pleased to find a gun and some ammo in there. You loaded the gun, thankful for the shooting classes you had taken years ago. You put the gun safely in your belt loop and carefully approached the house. You opened up the door a bit and glanced inside the large room.

You took a deep breath as you stepped inside. It was a large room with two staircases on either side of the room. You took in your surroundings. Just had to find a way to the other side of this house. That was all you had to do. The task didn’t seem so daunting when you put it that way.

Suddenly the door on the same floor you were on opened carefully. You took out your gun and held it up as a man opened the door and shut it carefully behind him. He had nicely cut dirty brown hair and he was wearing a green jacket that was covered in black and red liquids.

He turned around and noticed you which caused him to raise his own gun.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice shaking.

“Who are you?” He walked up to you, gun not wavering.

“Answer my question.”

“I...are you part of the family?”

“No. Are you?” You shook your head. You both kept your weapons up though, noticeably untrustworthy.

“I’m Y/N. I was trying to find a nice place out here in the wilderness to take some pictures but Lucas found me and put me in his little hell of games,” you told him. “Who are you? How did you get here?” He thought about whether he was going to answer you and took a deep breath before lowering his gun. You lowered yours as well.

“My wife went missing three years ago. She sent me a message...I found her here. But she’s crazy she tried to kill me and then this fucking family tied me up to a chair and…” He showed you his hand which seemed to be stapled on. You scoffed.

“I can take a look at that if you want. I know a little bit about medical stuff,” you said warily. He nodded a bit.

“I have to get my wife.”

“I have to get out of here.”

“Me too. Eventually.” You nodded a bit. You put your gun in your waistband again and Ethan walked closer to you. He still didn’t entirely trust you but he liked you enough. “Your wifes a lucky girl,” you told him. He smiled a bit. There was some unspoken truth there. Ethan could help you and you could help him.

“You mind telling her that? She’s still trying to kill me.”

=====

You and Ethan walked over to the trailer to get some sort of peace. You couldn’t stay there long but it seemed like it was a place where they didn’t look often. Plus, there was only one door to monitor. He sat on the bed as you knelt in front of him. You were carefully examining his hand.

“The staples were a choice,” you muttered. He chuckled dryly.

“At least it’s back on,” he told you. You nodded and sat down on your knees.

“It looks like you’re able to use it well enough. Once we get out of here we’re gonna have to make sure you get it looked at further. Here’s some more meds if the hand starts hurting.”

“You’re a Godsend.” You gave him a kind smile and stood back up.

“Alright, now where’s your wife?”

“I found a video of her going out to the old house. I have to assume she’s somewhere out there but you know, it’s a working theory.” You nodded. “I talked to Zoe. She said there was a cure here, for Mia.”

“And I assume you’re going to find it?” “If I can.” You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Alright. We’ll probably find it when we go and deal with Marguerite.” He nodded back at you.

“That was what I was hoping for.”

“You dealt with the old man?” He nodded.

“Barely.” You cocked your gun.

“Perfect. Then let’s go give mom a taste of what we got.”

====

“This house is fucking disgusting,” you whispered. Ethan nodded as he crouched down beside a nest of some sort.

“I second that.” He stood up and you quickly moved with him. You were quiet, trying to gauge where on Earth Marguerite was. You kept yourself together as you ran into large bugs and places that made you need to backtrack and find other things.

As you walked through the house you eventually made it up to a small window.

“Ethan?” You turned around, met face to face with some woman you hadn’t seen before.

“Mia!” Ethan ran over and put his hands against the barrier between the two of them. You found yourself hiding a bit of jealousy but you had bigger problems.

“Hey Ethan!” Lucas yelled, grabbing Mia around the neck. Ethan started to shake the barrier. Lucas met your eyes as he pulled her away. “I’ll get you bitch. Just you wait!” You turned to Ethan as Lucas and Mia disappeared. He gave you a nervous look which you returned.

Eventually the two of you made it out to some sort of greenhouse where Marguerite was waiting. She transformed herself into a disgusting, drooping and dangerous form.

Ethan handed you one of his two shotguns which you took with care. You raised it up to where her most vulnerable place was and shot.

Ethen came at her from your side. When your gun got knocked down Ethan put himself between you and your foe. He put his hand on your hip, turning you so you were effectively behind him as he shot his handgun. Together you were able to take her down, after much effort. As she fell and died you suddenly realized how exhausted and in pain you were.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked, more worried then he thought he was. You nodded a bit and used his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Just a little woozy. We gotta move on.” He nodded and grabbed your other arm, holstering his gun.

“You’re gonna pass out.” You shook your head.

“I am not.” He gave you a look. “You know Ethan Winters, you’re kind of a badass. I would be scared if you were pointing a gun at me.”

“I already did.”

“And I was scared,” you joked weakly. He scoffed and put your arm over his shoulder.

“Let’s get to the trailer and give you a minute before we hit Lucas with all that we got,” he muttered. You nodded.

“That motherfucker doesn’t know what's coming,” you whispered.

“Yeah, a guy with one hand and a girl who’s about to pass out. He’s gonna tremble in fear.”

“Hey now, don’t you underestimate us. We’ve made it this far. Just gotta get him, get your wife and get the fuck out of here.” He didn’t get the same pleasant feeling when he thought of Mia. He decided not to bring it up or dwell on it.

“Alright. I believe you.” ===

Ethan sat on the bed beside you. You were resting for a moment. You promised him only five minutes and he watched the door. He didn’t mind much. You fell into sleep easily, clearly exhausted. He grabbed your hand and held it for comfort.

Your face was so peaceful when you were asleep.

“Ethan,” you whispered, eyes still shut.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“We have to keep moving,” you told him as you squeezed his hand groggily.

“If you pass out Lucas will kill you.”

“Yeah? You would let that happen?” He scoffed. Ethan realized suddenly, he wouldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t get hurt. He chastised his own thoughts, looking down at his ring finger but he couldn’t see it. You were holding his hand and blocking the view.

“Not if I can help it.”

=====

Lucas paid special attention to you. He wanted to make sure you suffered for getting out and killing his parents. You and Ethan were forced to play his little game.

You and Ethan stood together in a locked couple of rooms. He grabbed your arm before you could walk too far into the room.

“Y/N-”

“This is just like the ones he kept me in. I saw the footage of someone else doing this, I know how to do it,” you whispered to him. He watched your eyes. He was sweating and exhausted. He was relieved to hear that you knew what you were doing.

“Go on then.”

You were able to work through that puzzle which did piss Lucas off but you were already gone before he could complain anymore. Now you had the serum and you had both made it out alive.

You found Mia after an aggressive amount of fighting with the Bakers. The more you saw of this family the less you were surprised by the sight. She was stumbling and scared but at the sight of Ethan her face lit up .

“Ethan?! Ethan!” she called, throwing her arms around her. He held her wordlessly for a moment as he dragged her quickly to the boat you and Ethan had found.

“We have a serum, to cure you,” you told her. She gave you a scared look.

“Who are you?”

“She’s a friend,” Ethan said. You held each other's gaze for a moment and gave her a kind smile. “I didn’t see Zoe. Did you find her?” he asked Mia. She shook her head.

“I haven’t seen Zoe in ages. We need to get out of here. We can’t dwell,” she told you both.

“She helped me get this serum.”

“Yeah and that’s much appreciated. But we have to leave,” she said. “We can come back later.” You eyed Ethan. He looked over at you for permission and you shrugged.

“She helped us get this. It seems stupid to leave her.”

Mia was trembling, worried about the escape. You all were. It was right then that Zoe emerged from the darkness.

“Zoe!” Ethan called. She ran over.

“You got the serum?” You gave her a curt look and then had to turn away.

“We..we only have one,” Ethan said. He was holding the only one there. You had to use the other one fighting Jack. You looked away from Mia as she noticed that he was going to have to make a choice.

“Well then you’ll have to choose one of us to give it to,” Zoe said evenly. Mia looked over at him and Ethan just looked at you. You shrugged from behind Mia.

“It’s up to you Ethan.” You could practically see his gears turning in his head. On one hand, Mia was his wife. He came here for her. But on the other hand...Zoe could help them get out. They could try and replicate the serum if they were able to leave sooner.

He grabbed Zoe’s arm and stuck the needle in. Mia gasped, shocked.

“I’m sorry. I truly am. Zoe will be able to guide us to safety,” he told her. You stepped into the boat, helping Zoe inside beside you.

“I’m staying here,” Mia said, disgusted.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ethan countered. “My place is here. With her,” she told him. You watched as Ethan got into the boat in front of you.

“We’ll come back for you,” he promised. Mia’s face was shrouded by the dark shadows as the boat went down the river.

=====

Eventually you came up to a much larger boat. You ended up on the boat, where Eveline was. You had known about Eveline, only through Lucas’s complaints about her. You didn’t realize she was a child or that she was like the way she was. When Eveline realized that Mia might not want to be her mother, she wondered if you would be a candidate.

She knocked you and Ethan out.

You woke up with a start. Your head hasn't stopped hurting since the last time you woke up. Now you had no idea where you were. You stood up shakily. Eveline hadn’t taken your weapons.

“Ethan?! Zoe?!” you called out but there was no response. You looked around at the dark and grimy metal of the boat. You pulled out your gun. “Ethan?!” you called again, hoping that he would answer. Nothing.

You had to start walking around to find them. Your feet started to get wet from the damp atmosphere but you could barely notice. You ran into different mold monsters but were able to keep them down enough for you to pass.

You felt like you had walked for almost an hour before you saw Ethan. He ran into you, breath heaving, gun out.

“Fuck, I almost shot you!” he yelled. “What’s going on? Where’s Zoe?”

“She’s dead! Mia!” You furrowed your eyebrows and then saw that Mia was chasing him down with a weapon. Your eyes went wide. The shots you figured at her merely slowed her down.

“Run!” you told him and both of you started to book it away.

“We need to find Eveline!” he told you as you ran.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know! But we need to find her!” You nodded, taking a sharp turn.

“Lead the way!”

====

You had to watch Ethan kill his wife. You watched him as his love for her was broken down to pieces as he shot her. You helped obviously. But he fired the last shot, as she asked him why he had chosen Zoe over her. Even you felt your heart clench up a bit and you didn’t love her like Ethan had.

“Mia,” he whispered as she crystallized and then dissipated. “Why?” You walked up to him and put a hand on his back. He turned to you and hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You held him there for a moment and then pulled away. You put your hand on his cheek gingerly.

“We have to keep going. We have to find her.” Ethan nodded and backed away to reload his gun. His face glossed over with grief and rage.

“Let’s go.”

=====

The last fight with Eveline was dirty. You had to get the shot into her and it happened but not after she erupted into screams. She looked like she was just a child. How could just a child do all of the chaos she did?

As your back landed harshly on the ground after being shot out of the house, you felt relief. Relief and pain. You could see the sun rising. For a moment you just laid in the grass as your ears rang.

Then Ethan turned to grab your hand. You turned your head to look at him. His face was dirty and tired. You would probably both sleep for a week after this ordeal. Your hearing came back and you could hear him try and talk to you over the sound of helicopter propellers.

“What?!” you called, probably far more loudly than you intended.

“Are you okay!?” he screamed. You nodded quickly.

“Are you?!” He nodded back.

“Ethan Winters and Y/N Y/L/N?!” You both looked up to see a large man standing over you. You sat up and he held out his hand for both of you to take.

“Yes?!” Ethan called.

“I’m Redfield. I’m glad we found you.”

Chris and his team helped the two of you into a chopper. You sat next to each other as it lifted off. You saw Ethan pull out his phone, miraculously uncracked. A video of Mia was playing on it.

“She lied to me the entire time we were married,” he told you quietly.

“I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.” He gave the phone one last look and took a deep breath before tossing it out of the helicopter.

“You could have just deleted the video,” you told him, laughing dryly. He scoffed and nudged you.

“Now is not the time,” he said but his voice was miraculously light hearted.

“You’re right. I am sorry though. Once we have a two day long nap we’ll talk more about it.” “Where are you going? After we get back.” You shrugged.

“I don’t have much of a place to get back to honestly. I guess we’ll just see where the wind takes me.”

“Isn’t that how you ended up here?” You nodded sheepishly. He looked down at the house for a long moment before looking back at you. “Stay with me. We can help each other get out of this rut. You can monitor my stapled on hand.” You smiled, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You sure?”

“I have room for one more now. I’d like it to be you.” You grabbed his hand tightly. He squeezed your knuckles, looking you in the eye.

“Alright,” you breathed. He nodded.

The two of you fell asleep in the helicopter not long after that, leaning on each other for support. You would heal, over time. Together.

Re8 Part 2

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Fade

CW: Stab wound, descriptions of wound-packing and stitches, brief reference to child abuse, blood, passing out, talk of going into shock

Follow-up to Jake Being Stabbed

Everything smells like blood.

The smell of it is thick and sticks to the inside of his nose, coats his tongue with the memory of copper-salt-sweet, like when he lost a tooth as a kid by pulling it out, too impatient to wait. Every breath comes with an answering flush of agony radiating from the blurry handle he can see sticking out of his shoulder, he feels sick with pain down to his fingertips, out through his chest.

His heart beats in hammers, working too hard to keep pushing blood that doesn’t want to stay inside him.

His eyes are on the ceiling fan spinning lazily above his head. He needs to change those light bulbs, he thinks. Soon.

“Ne dvigaytes', Misha,” Antoni says, leaning over him, shaggy hair over distant dark brown eyes. Whatever Antoni sees, it’s far, far away from him. But his fingers move quickly, don’t press too hard. “Eto budet bol'no.”

Bol’no. Jake knows that one.

“H-hurt,” He repeats, eyebrows furrowing a little. The ceiling fan is starting to make him feel dizzy.

Or maybe that’s the blood loss.

“Hurt... p-painfully.”

“Da,” Antoni murmurs, emotionless, flat as the side of the knife, and Jake turns his head a little - oh, the world spins when he does that - and sees Antoni’s long fingers closing around the handle of the knife.

“Shit,” Jake whispers, realizing a half-second too late - or early, it doesn’t fucking matter, does it? - what Antoni is about to do. “Wait, Ant, don’t-”

“Nyet doktora, nyet bol’nitsy,” Antoni whispers. “Tol'ko brat'ya.”

“Oh, fuck, no.” Jake allows himself the whimper that escapes without his consent, he tells himself he allows it. His uninjured arm tenses as he closes his hand into a fist, closes his eyes, tries to shut out his knowledge. “Antoni, it’s gonna-... I’ll fucking b-bleed out-”

“Nyet,” Antoni mutters. “Etot byl slishkom napugan chtoby ubit' tebya, ya dumayu.” He pauses, and Jake cracks an eyelid to see Antoni holding out a cooking spoon, the handle horizontal in front of his face. “Bite down,” Antoni says in English, his accent heavier than Jake has ever heard.

But... he thinks... Chris has probably heard him speak like this.

He opens his mouth, obedient and terrified, and the wooden tastes odd against his tongue as he closes his teeth around it. 

“This will hurt,” Antoni says, and picks up the towel again, hovering it over the knife he is gripped tightly onto. “Very much. Bite down.”

He pulls the knife out of Jake’s shoulder in one smooth motion.

Jake’s back arches off the floor, his head jammed back against the tile, as he screams around the spoon, veins standing out in his throat. Antoni jams the towel against the wound in nearly the same second the knife exits and the sharp pain of the blade is replaced by the overwhelming throb of cloth being forced not on but in to the bloodied gash.

Jake keeps screaming, eyes wide open now, vision white and gray and sparking every color there is and several he’s pretty sure he can’t usually see, as Antoni packs the wound with careful, precise, efficient speed.

“At first I think it go through,” Antoni says, almost idly, as if this is nothing more than the average Saturday night for him. “But I see now is blood from front pooling on floor. A good sign. Tonight we fail. What if you leave fingerprints, hm? What then?”

Jake’s screams taper off into grunts, forcing air through his nose, his hand in a fist beating ineffectually against the floor just to have something to do. He’s going to black out. He’s going to black out. He’s going to-

“Yeshche raz, Misha.”

Antoni pushes the cloth viciously further into the wound and Jake’s world goes dark.

-

He swims up from darkness to pain he can’t understand, that his mind simply sets aside and refuses to acknowledge. His shoulder burns like it’s being slowly torn off of his body and he whines, eyes still closed, afraid of the light that turns the backs of his eyelids red. 

It was bound to happen eventually. 

He’d gotten worse and worse.

They didn’t leave in time.

They can go now, though. Right? This will be enough, right? He shudders as his arm is jostled a little, tears running from the corners of his eyes to soak into the short hair by his ears, run further, drip to mix with the blood on the floor below.

This has to be enough to be worth leaving for good this time, right?

“Mom-... fuck, Mom, y-you okay? Shit, shit, h-hurts, Mom, we gotta go, we gotta go-... he’s gonna kill you-”

“Sssshhhh,” She whispers, running her fingers through his hair. Her voice is deeper, but he knows who it is, then. Where he is. When he is. “It’s okay, Jake. I’ve got you. Dr. Masood is here. It’s okay.”

Jake’s eyes open and her brown hair swings around, in waves, she must’ve taken her braid out before someone called her. Nat smiles down at him, concern written in the way her eyes travel over his face, in the tightness of her jaw and the way the lines of her face stand out more than ever, etched in stone. 

“Nat-... h-he didn’t do it on p-purpose, he thought-”

“I know,” Nat says, softly. There’s a spike of pain and Jake turns his head to see the flash of light off a thin needle and unmistakable stiff black thread. He stares at it, barely able to comprehend what’s happening.

Dr. Masood doesn’t look at him. He is far to focused on stitching closed Jake’s shoulder. His own lips are a thin line, and there is nothing but determination in his dark eyes, in the swift motions of his hands, expert, unshaking. 

“Chris told me,” Nat says, running fingers through his hair again, reaching to gently turn his eyes back to her. “That, um, he said his name is Jameson... thought you were someone else. I don’t care about that right now. Just look at me, Jake. You’re not going to bleed out, I don’t think, but you sure gave us a fright.”

“All... all in a day’s work,” Jake says hoarsely, and Nat smiles for him, shaking her head slightly. He blinks a few times - the sharp pain of the stitches is... less present, somehow. Less insistent. He feels a little distant from it, drifting somewhere just beside his own body, not really inside it.

That’s probably not good.

“Where-... where’s... Chris, Ant, everybody-...” He trails off, unable to find the energy to keep asking.

“Chris is in your room with Kauri,” Nat answers, reaching over to take his good hand, right hand, his uninjured arm, closing her fingers around his. He can barely feel her grip. “Ant... I don’t know. I think in the bathroom upstairs. Everyone else is in their rooms.”

“Kauri.” Jake tries to move, and then groans and collapses back to the floor again. “Kauri, shit, he must’ve come back and seen-”

“Kauri called me,” Nat says quietly, evenly. Her voice is careful, not exactly emotionless but not shaking, either. There’s nothing but warmth and certainty there, and Jake lets himself rest in it. “He wasn’t making much sense, and I got here as fast as I could. Chris filled me in once I did. He was-... having some trouble, but he got the words out. Dr. Masood is going to get you sewn up and stabilized.”

“Antoni did excellent work packing the wound,” The doctor is murmuring to himself. “Quality work. Fresh clean cloth, not sterile but better than anything else in your average household... this is shockingly clean for a stab wound, the assailant missed major... everything, really, what absolute good fortune-”

“Dr. Masood?” Nat raises her eyes, and the doctor pauses in his meticulous work to look at her. “His fingers are cold.”

“Numb,” Jake corrects her in a mumble.

“What?” Dr. Masood’s eyes move to Jake, now, but there is no change in his expression of focused scrutiny. 

“M’fingers... numb. Can’t really feel Nat’s hand.”

“Hm.” Dr. Masood goes back to work. Jake thinks he’s working more quickly now. “Natalie, what is Jakob’s blood type?”

“Uh...”

“O positive,” Jake manages. He remembers having to know this for the hospital as a kid. “’M O positive.”

“Lucky you,” Dr. Masood says quietly, and then sits back on his heels, looking up at Nat. Looking at him to jake feels like looking through a campfire, everything wavy and woozy and strange. He feels drunk, and cold. And like he’s looking at himself from across the room. 

He tries to waggle his fingers in a wave. Hey, me.

Dr. Masood is frowning now. “Go to my car and bring in the cooler you find there. It’s not too large, it shouldn’t be hard to carry.”

Oh, the white around his eyes is back, pushing in on his vision, wiping it clean. White and gray and black and red.

What’s red and black and white all over-

“Fuck,” Jake whispers. “Chris is... gonna freak out.”

“Too late for that,” Nat says, matter-of-fact. “We can handle that later. Doctor Masood, why-”

“Jakob needs blood,” Dr. Masood says simply. “And I have been told there will be no visit to a hospital. I can provide some care here. Call your friend who does EMT work, they will be better at emergency stabilization than I am.”

“They might be busy-”

“Then tell them to stop being busy. Jakob Stanton needs blood.” Dr. Masood’s eyes are on Jake’s face again, and his lips thin even more. “I do believe he needs it right now.”

Jake stares back at the doctor’s wavy, shivering face until his vision fades to black.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @endless-whump

[jeonsjiddies]

Show Me | pjm (m)

Summary - Jimin shows you how good he can make you feel.

Word Count - 2146

Pairing -  Jimin x reader

Genre - smut

Warnings - penetrative sex, exhibitionism, voyerism, dirty talk, dom jimin

a/n -  another re-write from a previous fandom. :)

“This project will be worth 30% of your grade.“ 

A normal Wednesday morning in  your government class just got a little more interesting.

“I assigned you partners,“ the professor continued as a collective groan echoed through the classroom. 

“Jeon Jungkook  and Kim Taehyung.” 

Jungkook and Tae high fived.

“Kim Seokjin and Min Yoongi.”  

“Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon.” 

Hoseok whooped quietly, grinning at Namjoon

“Y/N and Park Jimin.” She said and you froze, glancing over at the notorious bad boy who raised an eyebrow at you, as one corner of his mouth tilted up.

You couldn’t focus on the rest of the names that she read off because you were too busy panicking. How did you end up paired with Jimin? Was the teacher trying to kill you? You had nothing against the blonde haired risk-taker, quite the opposite. You had a huge crush on Jimin. From his long soft, pushed back locks, to his shimmering brown eyes, to his freakishly large thighs and strong frame. He was terrifyingly attractive, sex on legs, and you were nervous as hell to work with him.

“Please get together with your partners and discuss your strategies for this assignment.”  

Jimin smiled that devilish smile, beckoning you over with one finger. You gathered your books and stood, walking on wobbly legs towards the sinfully gorgeous boy.

“Hey.”  

“Hey,” you tried to sound normal.

“Don’t be scared, princess. I don’t bite - hard,” he grinned, sensing your uneasiness.

He leaned far into your personal space as he said it and you noticed the tangy scent of his cologne as you sucked in a breath. He even smelled like heaven.

“I’m- I’m not,” you said  quietly.

“You seem pretty nervous to me. Listen, just because I’ve got a reputation doesn’t mean I’m some lawless thug who-“ 

“No! I don’t think that!” you interjected, “I don’t have anything against you or your reputation.” 

“Then why are you acting like you could jump up and flee out the nearest exit if I move too fast?” he accused. 

“Social anxiety.”  

“Oh,” he said, The guilt apparent on his features.

“Yeah. So which amendment did you want to start with?” you asked,  getting focused and trying not to sniff him; he smelled so good.

 20 minutes later, you’d both picked out which amendments you’d be showcasing as having a lasting impact on the country, and which ones seemed out of date. The bell rang and you stood up to leave when Jimin placed a hand on your arm, his fingers on your bare skin burned in a delightful way.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I… I'm just so tired of being looked down on for where I come from,” he explained. 

“I could never look down on you, Jimin. You’re too tall,” you joked, earning a rare Jimin genuine smile, “ should we exchange numbers so we can work on the project?“  

“Oh don’t worry y/n, I’ll find you,” He grinned deviously. 

You flushed, watching him saunter down the hallway.

You organized records in alphabetical order a few nights later at your afterschool job. You didn’t hear the doorbell chime, so you nearly peed your pants when a soft, sultry voice whispered in your ear.

“Told you I’d find you.”

You whirled around, coming face to face with Jimin. He was dangerously close to you, if you just used your tiptoes, you could kiss him. Your heart beat like a hummingbirds in your chest.

“Hi,” you breathed out in a whisper.

“Hi,” he whispered back, gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips.

His tongue danced across his own lips, and he started to lean in. The doorbell chimed, breaking the spell you’d both been under and he stepped back quickly.

“So um, maybe tomorrow after school, you could come over and work on the government project?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, sounds good. Can I ride with you though? I’m saving up for a car,”  you looked down. 

“Sure, meet me by the front door after your last lecturel.”

You watched him walk out the door, letting out the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding.

You anxiously bounced your leg up and down during the last class of the day. You have been on edge all day. You were going to Jimin’s place. Would his roommates be home? Did he have roommates? Would you two be alone? So many of your naughty dreams had taken place in this seemingly imaginary place and this place was about to be real. You knew nothing sexual was actually going to happen, but you were still so nervous. The bell rang and you jumped out of your skin. It was time. You gathered your things, and walked to the front door, where Jimin was waiting for you. Hoseok and Jin  were by his side, all of them laughing.

“Hey y/n,” Jimin smiled. 

“Hey Y/N,” Jin and Hoseok said at the same time, both of them shouting “jinx!”

You giggled and waved hello.  Jimin threw an arm around your shoulders and walked with you to his bike. All eyes were on you, questions swimming through the halls of your university. People whispered to their friends and stared and ashamed.

“Everyone’s looking at us,” you whispered . 

“Good,” he winked and helped you onto the bike. 

You pressed your body close to his, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He sped out of the parking lot, leaving the spectators in the dust. You buried your head into his back, trying not to watch the lines on the road flash by. When he pulled up to the apartment complex, you didn’t let go for a moment.

“You ok?”  

“Yeah, just give me a second. I’m a little woozy.” 

He got off the bike and looked at you for a moment, then picked you up and carried you inside.

“Put me down!” you shriek-laughed. 

“Didn’t want you to stumble since you were ‘woozy’,” he shrugged, plopping you into the couch. 

You hated to admit it, but being held in his lean, strong arms make you feel alive, like adrenaline have been shot straight into your heart. You already missed the warm, safe feeling. You sighed. 

“So… hungry? Thirsty?”  

“I’m okay, thanks,” you smiled and he sat next to you on the couch, far too close but not nearly close enough. 

 As you typed out which amendments were outdated, you were hyper aware of Jimins’ every movement. It was driving you crazy, being so close to him. You both chatted about random topics, as you worked. About halfway through, you stood up to stretch and take a break, as did Jimin. You took a step towards the kitchen for some water, tripping over your backpack, but Jimin’s strong arms darted out to catch you. Your hands on his chest, his arms around you, that’s where it really began. You were being electrocuted by his touch. You both stayed like that, lost in each other’s eyes. 

Jimin moved in slow motion, lips barely grazing yours in feather soft brushes. Gentle, sweet. You were floating on air. Then, the wild fire broke out, Jimin’s lips crashing down on yours with so much need and desire, you could barely keep up. He shoved you against a wall, hands roaming everywhere on your body, lighting you ablaze. You moaned into his mouth, able to stop it. His hands on your body sent you into another level of lust, another level of craving him. He bit down harshly on your neck creating a gasp from you. He blew cold air on it, licking the sore red spot. The stinging turned to tingling, sending shivers down your spine.

“Everyone’s going to see these tomorrow know that you’re mine,” he pulled your hips closer roughly.

“I’ve been watching you, princess. I’ve seen you in those pretty little skirts, completely unaware of all the boys watching you. Unaware of what you’re doing. Teasing. I’ve wanted this from the day I laid eyes on you. So many nights alone I would think of your pretty plump lips wrapped around my cock,” he groaned. 

His words had you soaking.

“Why did you wait?”    

“Didn’t think you’d want someone like me,” he shrugged. 

“Do you know how many nights I’ve touched myself to the thought of you, Jimin? How many times I’ve moaned your name, wishing your hands were the ones touching me? You’re so sexy, so brave. I’ve wanted you inside me for so long,” you whispered hotly 

“You got off thinking about me?”  

You bit your lip, nodding. 

“Show me,” he grinned mischievously. 

You bravely took his hand and had him guide you to his room. You crawled onto his bed as he stood, watching you. Your eyes locked on his, you began undressing. Slowly, you removed everything you were wearing, your hands going to your breasts. You kneaded them, rolling your nipple between your forefinger and thumb. 

“Mmm...” you closed your eyes, lolling your head back, “Fuck, Jimin.” 

Your hands slowly traveled down your body, until they landed by your aching heat. Your fingers danced along your slit, then you pushed one inside yourself, arching your back and groaning as you circled it around your clit. Jimin’s breath hitched as he watched you pleasure yourself for him. You added another finger, pumping it in and out slowly, squirming on Jimin’s bed. You’d done this a thousand times, but with Jimin’s face watching your every move, it was so much more thrilling, it was erotic. You began moving your fingers faster, his name falling from your lips as you got closer, your orgasm crashing over you. 

“Mmm… oh gosh, Jimin,” you moaned loudly, eyes connected with his, and you could hear his heavy breathing. 

You lay there, naked body on full display for Jimin. His eyes had darkened, his deep brown now resembling black. 

“Shit princess, that was so fucking sexy,“ he groaned, stepping towards the bed, “but I can make you feel even better.” 

“Show me,” you purred. 

Jimin sprang into action, flinging his shirt off and unbuckling his jeans faster than you’d ever seen anyone move. Down to his boxers, he crawled on top of you, kissing you rough and deep and so good. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. His boxer-covered erection ground against your dripping core and you groaned. 

“You like that baby? Like how my big fat cock feels against that tight little pussy?” He moaned in your ear. 

“Yes, fuck,” you whimpered, “Jimin, I need you.” 

Jimin grabbed a condom from inside his night stand and slipped it on quickly, aligning himself with your entrance. He slowly pushed in, and oh gosh it stung. He was so big. He lay still for a moment, watching your face for a sign you were ready to move. When you nodded, he slowly pulled out of you, then gently thrust back in. The stinging turned to this amazing, warm, delicious feeling and Jimin started moving faster, whispering dirty things in your ear, telling you how good you felt around him. 

“So beautiful, you take it so good baby,” he encouraged you, but you couldn’t answer. You were a moaning mess underneath him.

Jimin hit every good spot, and knew exactly what he was doing as he pounded into you, and you’d never felt such bliss in your life. The fire deep inside of you was one that you weren’t sure could be quenched. He filled you up so completely, bringing you absolute ecstasy. Jimin was made to fuck, and he was amazing at it. You writhed underneath him, unable to keep still from the insane amounts of pleasure coursing through you. You knew you were close, and so did Jimin, his hand reaching down to draw figure 8’s on your clit.  When your orgasm came, it was like the entire world was shaking. You screamed out his name, back aching into his body, feeling like your soul was leaving yours. You were flying. You felt high. Jimin filled the condom seconds later, panting as his body collapsed on top of yours. He rolled next to you and gathered you in his arms. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Agreed,” you nodded, snuggling into his embrace. 

He smirked, and kissed your cheek. You blushed and hid your face in his neck, making him laugh. 

“How can you be shy after all that?” 

“Shut up,” you mumbled into his skin. 

“Y/N?” He asked quietly.

“Hmmm?” 

“I want you, all the time. I don’t want to have to let you go after this, will you be mine?” he asked, and when you were quiet ( simply because you were in shock) he added “I promise I’ll treat you right, like you deserve.”

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, smiling at him as you nodded, telling him you would be his. 

“Show me.” 

[valdomarx]

Entry, Descent and Landing

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, time loop, 6k, rated M

Also on AO3

-

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs, entering the mess with a scowl on his face. He's clearly personally offended by this turn of events.

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll fix it.” John currently has more pressing issues to consider, like whether he can reasonably have fruit loops for lunch or whether he should eat some vegetables like an adult.

He picks up the fruit loops.

“I’m serious!” Rodney is all fidgety, talking and waving his hands instead of eating, and that’s never a good sign. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

John raises an eyebrow. It’s not often that McKay admits there’s something he doesn’t understand. And without the gate, they are vulnerable.

Regretfully, he puts the fruit loops back. “Alright. Why don’t you show me what the problem is?”

-

The gate will accept an address, and it spins and dials as normal. But when it should open a wormhole with a whoosh and a ripple of blue light, it simply stops dead. The lights fade out and it shuts itself off.

Huh.

“It’s been like this since we tried to dial New Athos for a check in.” A frown creases Rodney’s forehead. “Hand me that scanner, will you?”

-

They spend the day poking and prodding at the gate and the control consoles - or, more accurately, Rodney pokes and John swings his legs off the side of the console and provides unhelpful but, he thinks, amusing commentary - but there’s nothing to indicate a problem. No fried circuits, no missing components, none of the usual error warnings which appear when the gate runs into a problem. It just… doesn’t work.

They work through the afternoon, and by the time eight p.m. rolls around John is ready to call it a night and start again tomorrow. But before he can suggest they get some dinner, the gate whirs to life and begins to dial.

“Did you do that?” he asks Rodney, but he already knows the answer is no by the look of confusion on Rodney’s face.

The gate spins as if to dial but it doesn’t connect. It merely sits there, illuminated but inactive, and then -

-

John wakes up in his quarters.

That’s weird. He’s disoriented, and woozy, and he feels a headache creeping at the back of his skull.

He shakes it off. He probably just needs some food. He heads to the mess and is sitting down to eat when -

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs.

John squints at him. “Again?”

“What do you mean, again?” Rodney waves him aside impatiently. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

A cold chill settles at the bottom of John’s stomach. “I know, Rodney. We had this conversation yesterday.”

“What are you talking about? Of course we didn’t. The gate only stopped working today.”

-

Rodney insists that he has no memory of the gate breaking, and neither does anyone else they talk to. It's like the previous day has simply disappeared.

The more he insists that he remembers it, the more Rodney turns from dismissive to concerned, until he marches him down to see Carson and okay, that's not the worst idea under the circumstances.

Carson checks him over, determines he's physically fine, and tells him it's probably just déjà vu. But that can't be right. It was so real.

Rodney keeps shooting him these worried looks, and that's definitely not helping. So he brushes it off and suggests they get back to fixing the gate. It is, after all, still broken.

They spend another few hours on that, opening up the consoles in the gate room and looking for any faulty hardware. Soon enough it's dinner time, and he's going to suggest heading to the mess when the gate spins up again, and oh shit -

-

He wakes up in his quarters. He frantically scrambles for his watch and sees that it reads two p.m.

This is definitely not déjà vu.

He heads straight to the gate room. The gate techs are antsy.

"Sheppard, you're here, good." Rodney enters, a tablet tucked under one arm. “We've got a problem. The gate’s not working."

-

They try to fix the gate again, with no more success than the last two attempts. John keeps checking his watch.

Maybe it's different now. Maybe he's changed enough to stop the day repeating.

At exactly right p.m., his sunny, perhaps delusional, optimism is shattered.

The gate starts dialing.

-

He wakes up in his quarters.

He sends Rodney off to consult with Zelenka and takes matters into his own hands.

He tries everything he can think of to dial the gate - dialing different addresses, dialing it at different times, even removing and replacing the control crystal in his famed “turn it off and turn it on again” approach to computer repair - but nothing works.

He tries taking a puddle jumper and flying out to the mainland, and into space, and as far around the planet as he can get. No matter how far he travels, at exactly eight p.m. he resets and wakes up back in his quarters.

Six hours is simply not enough time to solve whatever the hell is going on here

He tries explaining his situation to Elizabeth, to Teyla and Ronon, to Lorne, to Carson. Even when people are willing to entertain the notion of a time loop, no one knows how to address the problem, let alone suggest a solution. At best, they seem to be humoring him. At worst, they seem to think it’s his apparently inevitable slide into paranoia.

After trying everyone on the base he has even a passing relationship with, he gives up telling anyone. They can’t help him.

-

He overrides the city’s power usage limits and tries to dial up Earth. The gate still won’t dial, and he overloads the ZPM, and the entire city is plunged into darkness.

-

He wakes up in his quarters.

He used to love it here, his own little corner of the strange place that is his home. Now it feels like a prison.

-

He tries to make contact with the Athosians, or with the Manarians, or even with the Genii. But without the gate, his radio transmissions will take years to reach them. He sits by the radio anyway, listening to the crackling static and waiting for a reply he knows will never come.

-

Maybe he's trapped in a virtual reality, or his mind is being probed by aliens. It wouldn't be the first time.

Maybe none of this is real.

-

He stands on one of the city’s most distant piers, staring out into the ocean. It’s quiet here, now he’s turned off his radio and tweaked the lifesigns detector so it can’t track him. He watches the waves, the same today as they were yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He considers his options.

-

He puts a gun to his temple and counts down from five.

He wakes up in his quarters.

-

He bangs on the lab door and tries one more time to convince Rodney to help him.

“A time loop is not impossible,” he grits out. “It happened at the SGC.” He knows Rodney has read the file.

“That’s because there was an Ancient artifact involved.” Rodney sounds haughty. “Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?”

John breathes between clenched teeth and shakes his head.

“So. Time just spontaneously started resetting itself, did it?”

“How should I know? All I know is that I have woken up in my quarters a hundred times by now, and every day at eight p.m. the loop resets itself.”

“Why are you the only one this is happening to?”

“I don’t know!” he yells. “I have no idea what terrible sin I’m being punished for here! I’ve made my share of mistakes in my life, but nothing that deserves this.”

Rodney stops moving and looks at him -- really looks.

“Jesus, Sheppard.” Rodney’s brow creases. “You’re not okay, are you?”

John slumps. He can’t summon the energy to deny it. “Not even remotely.”

For some reason, this seems to be what pushes Rodney into taking him seriously. He nods, once, sharply. “What can I do to help?”

He looks at his watch. It’s ten minutes to eight.

“Tell me a secret,” he says.

Rodney gives him a disdainful look. “What is this, a tween girls’ slumber party?”

He grits his teeth. “I spent the entire day trying to convince you what’s happening to me is real. I don’t have time to do that every loop. I need you to tell me something no one else knows, so next time I can convince you I’m not crazy or playing around and we can fix this.”

He sees Rodney’s mind working. He can tell he knows John is right and he’s considering options of what to tell him: details about his childhood, his research, his time here on Atlantis, and discarding each one. For all his faults, Rodney does not dissemble. His life is an open book, and for this to work John needs to know something truly private.

“Alright,” Rodney says eventually. He tilts his chin up and straightens his shoulders like he’s bracing himself for incoming fire. “When I was fifteen, there was a boy at school a couple of years older than me. His name was Mikey Haynes.”

-

“Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?” Rodney asks with the same look of superiority he always has. “Because that’s the only way-”

“McKay,” he interrupts.

“- and why would you be the only one affected, that doesn’t make sense-”

“Rodney!”

Rodney stops. Something in the tone of his voice has broken through.

“I know about Mikey Haynes,” he says.

Rodney goes very pale and John can feel the anxiety radiating off him in waves.

“How do you know that name?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because you told me, Rodney. In the last loop.”

For a few seconds Rodney stares at him, eyes wild and arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Eventually he gives one, sharp nod.

“Alright. You’re stuck in a time loop. What are we going to do about it?”

-

He has that conversation with Rodney every single loop. It is, without exception, the worst part of each one. Even feeling himself die wasn’t this awful.

-

He and Rodney have run every test they can think of. He’s been subjected to medical tests and genetic tests, they’ve scanned him for nanites and viruses and alien mind control, and they’ve turned up nothing. He is, by all accounts, completely healthy -- other than the fact he’s reliving the same six hours over and over and over and over.

“Maybe the problem isn’t with me,” he says. He chews over the idea and it seems plausible. “Maybe the problem is with the city.”

“What?”

“What if I’m not the one being looped through time? What if you are, and I’m the only one who’s aware of it?”

“So you’re sane and everyone else is crazy?”

“Yes.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Maybe my ATA gene gives me some protection against the effect, I don’t know.”

“Your magic genetics strike again.”

He ignores the griping. “If I’m right, the problem is even worse than I thought. The whole city, even the whole planet could be stuck in the loop. What’s happening to our allies while we’re stuck? How far have the Wraith advanced across this galaxy without us to keep them in check.”

Rodney swallows, the gravity of the situation finally hitting him.

“There must be a clue in the city sensors,” he says, pushing bits of drone aside to access the whiteboard in his lab. “If the reset is at the same time, there might be a preceding energy burst we can detect.”

“What good will that do?” John is too tired to think straight. “I know when the loop is going to reset.”

“Because if we know what type of energy it is, we can understand what’s causing it.”

John throws up his hands. Sure, why not. It's not like he's in a hurry or anything.

Rodney pokes through the sensor data, making little hmm noises which he finds unreasonably aggravating.

“See!” Rodney has his smuggest expression on, the one that simultaneously says I told you so and I know you find me charming. “Here, just before the gate failed to connect, there’s a small anomaly in the readings. It looks like… Interesting. It looks like ionizing radiation.”

“What does that mean?”

Rodney’s brow creases. “I’m not sure. There’s a spike of gamma and X-rays as the gate tries to connect. But I have no idea what the source is.”

John barely has time to let out a frustrated breath before the loop resets.

-

He hurries back to Rodney’s lab and points him to the sensor data.

“Interesting,” Rodney says again. “It looks like ionizing radiation.”

John exhales. “Yeah. You said that last time.”

-

He doesn’t need to eat, or sleep. His body resets with every loop. And yet, his mind has frayed. He hasn’t rested in so long, his thoughts are a jumbled mess.

He takes a loop off. He goes to the gym and spars with Ronon. His muscles are fresh but his strategy is a disaster; Ronon unsurprisingly wipes the floor with him. All the same, it feels good to stretch and move; to worry about avoiding a flying elbow instead of his sorry fate for a while.

Then he has dinner with Teyla. He doesn’t know how many loops it’s been since he ate, and even though he doesn’t need the sustenance he realizes he has been missing the sensory experience of it, and the camaraderie of a shared meal.

He tells Teyla about the time loop, casually, like it’s not a big deal, and she doesn’t seem convinced he’s telling the truth but she doesn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand either, and he loves her for that.

“If that were the case,” her head tilts to one side, thoughtful, “it would be a kind of opportunity, would it not?”

He squints. Nothing about this feels opportune.

“If time were to always reset itself, you could do anything you wish, without having to consider the consequences.” She shrugs. “Many have wished for such a chance.”

Huh. He never thought about it that way before.

-

Next loop, he steals a jumper and takes it for a joyride, zipping away from Atlantis and out into the solar system.

He pulls a reckless slingshot maneuver around the third planet out and is sent hurtling toward the star at the heart of the system, traveling so fast the jumper shakes and rattles even with the inertial dampeners. Elizabeth screams at him over the comms and he flips them off.

He approaches the sun at breakneck speed and the temperature in the cabin begins to rise. He swoops low into the sun’s corona, arcs of plasma leaping up around him, even more wild and ferocious than he expected. The sensors scream out warnings about hull temperature and radiation levels and he ignores them, absorbed in the way the jumper dives and banks.

He plunges closer, seeing the star’s surface bubble and erupt, then pulls up in a wild loop and swings down closer still: through the corona and into the chromosphere, the space around him transformed into wild hues of pink, shot through with filaments of white hot gas which snap and twist around him.

In the moment before the jumper is destroyed, as alarms blare and the air rushes out through cracks in the hull, his vision is filled with the surface of the sun. It is entrancing, covered in cells of red and orange and yellow, molten and changing and blindingly, blindingly bright.

-

He records a message for his father and uploads it to the queue to be sent back to Earth. “Dad,” he begins. “I want you to tell you something, something I’ve been meaning to say for a long time. From the very bottom of my heart: Go fuck yourself.”

He knows it’ll be heard by the gate techs, if not the entire expedition. That somehow makes it even more satisfying.

-

He finds Cadman.

“You’re an explosives expert, right?”

“Technically it’s high temperature and energetic materials technology,” she grins, “but close enough.”

“Awesome. Where do you keep the good stuff?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“You know. The really fun explosives they don’t let the field teams use.”

“Oh, that good stuff. Right this way.”

They spend an afternoon testing the structural integrity of the city’s farthest piers (not as good as you might think), seeing what happens when you strap C4 to a naquadah generator (an extremely large explosion), and enjoying the simple pleasures of tossing prototype grenades into the ocean (the water sprays rainbows across the sky as it is thrown miles into the air, and it falls on them like rain as they laugh).

Cadman barely needs any convincing.

-

He tells Lorne that he’s gay. Lorne doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yes, sir,” he says, entirely unperturbed. “I figured.”

-

He leaves a message for Nancy.

He tells her he’s sorry, that he knows he was a bad husband, that it wasn’t fair the way he treated her. He tells her that she deserved better, that he wishes her well, that he hopes she’s happy, and he means it.

He feels lighter the moment he's finished. He wonders why he never did this before the loop.

-

He’s struck by a genius idea, and he busts open a few locks and drags the ascension machine out of storage. Sure, it nearly killed Rodney, but maybe he’ll get lucky. Nothing to lose at this point, right?

The moment the light envelops him, he knows he’s made a terrible mistake.

Within minutes his skin is peeling away to reveal hard, blue scales beneath. The sunlight becomes unbearable. He turns the lights out and feels his way by sound instead.

He doesn’t remember much beyond that. There are only brief flashes in his mind: cold metal beneath his claws, horrified screams reverberating in a corridor, the effortlessness of scuttling up the side of a tower, the crunch of bones cracking between his mandibles.

-

He locks himself in his quarters for a few loops after that.

After a while his guilt is outweighed by his boredom. He picks up the guitar that has been primarily decorative thus far and learns to play Folsom Prison Blues.

Time keeps dragging on, indeed.

-

Eventually, as seems to be inevitable, he ends up coming back to Rodney.

"Sheppard." Rodney gives him a quick nod. "What can I do for you?"

There are a million answers to that question, and none of them are appropriate for work.

He considers the juxtaposition: Rodney's cool greeting with the way he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, all coiled excitement and nervousness. That's how Rodney often is around him, now he thinks about it.

Is it interest or intimidation? Fondness or annoyance? He's never been good at parsing emotions, and that's been a frequent source of frustration. Now it's particularly acute.

"You want some coffee?" Rodney offers, like an olive branch. "I'm sure we've got a clean mug around here somewhere."

John does not want coffee.

How many times has he thought about this? Too many to count. And how many more chances will he have?

What the hell, he thinks. Teyla was right. He'll never get a better opportunity than this.

He steps forward and puts a tentative hand around the back of Rodney's neck. He hears his breath catch. He rubs the soft hair there between his fingers, watches the blush rise on his cheeks. It's an enticing look.

Slowly, carefully, he leans in and kisses him, uncertain even though he knows the loop will reset, because this is bigger than some silly irresponsible behavior; this is him putting his heart in Rodney's fidgety hands and hoping against hope it won't be crushed.

For a moment Rodney freezes, and John is already formulating frantic apologies when Rodney mouths, "Oh god, finally," against his lips and wraps his arms around his shoulders, yanking him closer and kissing him hot and hard.

It's easy as anything to slip his hands under Rodney's thighs and to lift him onto the workbench, even while Rodney attempts to distract him by unbuttoning his shirt and biting a line along his collar bone.

-

He fucks Rodney over the bench in his lab, and next time on a balcony overlooking the city, and after that on Elizabeth’s desk. He learns every inch of his body; the soft plump of his thighs, the way he likes to be jerked off nice and slow, the sensitive patch of skin behind his ear.

For loops and loops, he does nothing else. Rodney never turns him down, not once. No matter where he is or what he’s doing, he’ll drop everything to be with him, and John has no idea what to make of that.

(Yes he does, but it's too big and too terrifying to look at directly, so he puts it aside.

It can wait. He has nothing but time.)

The first time he gets Rodney to fuck him, he bursts into fat, ugly tears afterwards and Rodney wraps a blanket around him and pets his hair. They stay like that for hours, Rodney holding him and for once not speaking, letting the waves of need and desperation and loneliness ebb and flow as they will, giving the simple comfort of his presence.

Sometimes he tells him about the loop, sometimes not. It doesn’t seem to make much difference to Rodney. Even when he explains nothing, just walks up to him and kisses him, Rodney kisses him back just as hungrily as ever.

And when they’re not fucking, they’re talking. He learns that Rodney has always wanted to learn to paint. He misses his cat (no, really. It’s not funny.) The one person on the base he is most afraid of is Elizabeth, because he secretly suspects she might be smarter than he is.

John tells him about why he doesn’t talk to his family, and about how out of place he always felt in the military. That he likes turkey sandwiches because they’re what his college roommate made for him when he first left home and had to learn to get by on not much money.

Each day, he learns more about Rodney and shares more about himself. And then the loop resets, and he has to walk into the lab and see Rodney regard him coolly and say, “Sheppard,” like that’s all they are to each other.

He misses him, and that sounds insane because he's spent practically every waking hour with the man for what must have been weeks. But he is moving forward and Rodney is staying still. Every time the loop resets, they drift further apart.

-

He stops sleeping with Rodney.

-

He gets back to work.

He pulls up the city sensor data and brings it to the lab.

“Here, look. You said before there was a radiation spike.”

Rodney drums his fingers against the tablet. “Yeah, there is. And it looks,” he squints, “sort of familiar.”

“What could cause that?”

“A million things. Radioactive materials. Black holes. Coronal mass ejections. Lightning, if there’s enough of it.”

“Wait, wait wait.” Something important scratches at his mind. “Coronal mass ejections, as in, from stars?”

“Yes. The magnetic fields inside a star shift as material moves in its interior, and when a prominence is formed and collapsed, the star releases a burst of plasma.”

He snaps his fingers. “That’s it! The sun in this solar system, we know it’s periodically unstable, right? And it’s even more active than usual right now.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

He thinks of the arcs of plasma he saw as he dove the jumper into the sun’s corona and decides against trying to explain that. “It’s not important. But we know the stargate has sent Earth teams through time when the wormhole passed too close to a coronal mass ejection, right? What if our stargate had the same problem?”

“That might send whoever was traveling through the gate through time, but it wouldn’t make time loop.” A light flickers in Rodney’s eyes. “Oh! Oh! Unless that’s why the gate failed. It tried to send an outgoing wormhole at the exact moment that the sun’s activity peaked. When the wormhole hit the coronal mass ejection, it bounced back to its origin, carrying its energy with it. And that would mean…” He taps frantically at his tablet. “Right! That spike of radiation is the effect of the outgoing and incoming wormholes colliding, forming a resonance wave. All that energy is forming ripples which must be throwing us through spacetime.”

“Great! So can you fix it?”

Rodney blinks. “I’m not even sure I can model what’s happening, let alone fix it. The mathematical equations alone will be weeks of work.”

“We don’t have weeks, Rodney. We have -” he checks his watch, “- just over half an hour before the loop resets and we lose everything.”

Despair starts crawling up his spine, but he shouldn’t have underestimated the sheer stubbornness of Rodney McKay.

“Well then.” Rodney sits him down and shoves a notebook and pen into his hands. “Looks like you’re going to have to learn some math and help me to remember.”

-

This is his routine now: Wake up in his quarters, run to the lab, talk Rodney through the problem as fast as he can, get lectured on astrophysics and mathematical modelling until he feels like his head is going to explode, repeat.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

-

He gets the basics down quickly but there are still pages and pages of math for them to solve, and nowhere close to enough time to figure it out in one loop. So he learns, and remembers, and does his best to save himself.

Rodney explains it well when he’s not being a jerk, and John starts to understand why he likes this work.

He hasn’t done this much math since college, and it’s not as awful as he remembers. There’s a kind of beauty to it, actually, a balance of all the relevant variables quantified and described, their relationships mapped into symbols and equations, the logically clarity of a necessarily true fact.

“See, this variable here, this represents the duration of the outgoing wormhole.” Rodney taps the whiteboard. John stares at the way his hands dance over the numbers. “And this one here, this is the distance between Lantea and its sun...”

Each loop, he learns a little more. Eventually, he understands the equations Rodney has been scribbling for the past god knows how many loops.

Now they just need to actually figure out how to solve them.

-

“That equation is wrong.”

“What? No it isn’t. I worked that out myself.” Rodney is glaring at him like he insulted his mother.

“I’m telling you, Rodney. Look.” John uses the cuff of his shirt to wipe out a corner of the equations scribbled on the whiteboard. “This is assuming we’re still operating in base 10, but we know the gate operating system is partially in base 16.” He adds in the corrected figures as he goes. “So we need to convert it to polynomial here and here before we can compare the output to the data from our solar radiation readings, then we can figure out the coronal mass ejection’s effects on both the gate and our computers simultaneously and allow for the difference.”

Rodney is squinting at the whiteboard. “That’s… Huh. That might actually be right.” He steps closer, running his fingers beneath the figures John has changed. Then he wheels and rounds on John.

“You,” he says, pointing a finger at John’s chest. “You are a genius.”

And then he’s grabbing John’s shirt and hauling him close and kissing him, wild and messy and with great enthusiasm.

And John had told himself he wasn’t going to do this any more but this is different, Rodney had kissed him this time, and with the way Rodney’s hands are scrabbling at every piece of skin he can reach he doesn’t think he could stop himself anyway.

Afterwards, once they’ve wasted far too much of this loop to get any productive work done, John tells Rodney about all the times that they’ve done this before, and that this is the first time Rodney has been the one to instigate it.

Rodney shrugs. “What can I say? A man who knows his math really gets me going.”

John hides a smile. “You only want me for my brain, huh?”

“Yes,” Rodney says, like that’s obvious. He breaks into a grin and runs a hand through John’s hair. “And the hair, of course. That’s very important.”

“Mmhmm.” John stretches lazily across the sofa in the corner of the lab. “And the rest of me?”

Rodney gives him a sly look. “I guess that’s alright too.”

And then Rodney is giggling as John wrestles him to the sofa as well, and he’s all flying elbows and poking fingers until John gets him pinned beneath him, both of them sweaty and out of breath from laughter.

Oh, thinks John. So this is what happiness feels like. He’d almost forgotten.

-

The loop is about to end, though this one feels different.

They're lying squashed together on the too-small sofa, inelegantly draped around each other, when Rodney takes his hand. “You have to tell me,” he says. “We’re about to reset, and once we've fixed this and I've forgotten again, you have to tell me how you feel.”

His gut churns. It’s so much simpler to be together when he doesn’t have to think about the consequences.

“Promise me,” Rodney says. “It’s not fair that I should finally get what I’ve wanted for so long, and not be able to remember it.”

He thinks about how he feels each time Rodney is reset: the loss, the ache of it. He tries to imagine what it would be like to have those experiences erased entirely.

“Okay.” He squeezes Rodney’s hand. “I promise.”

-

“That’s it!” Rodney beams at the whiteboard, covered from top to bottom in dense equations. “I can’t believe we got that done so fast.”

John lets out a sound that might be considered a laugh.

“Ah.” Rodney looks at him sideways. “You’ve been working on this for a while, huh?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Well, good news. Now we’ve got the wormhole modeled, we can feed this data into the dialing device and reset the gate manually.”

“And that will stop the loop?”

“I sure as hell hope so, because it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

“Terrific.”

-

John makes a conscious effort to stop his leg from bouncing anxiously as Rodney loads up their data into the dialing device.

He checks his watch. It’s three minutes to eight.

This is going to work. Right? This has to work. He’s put everything he has into this fix and he honestly doesn’t know if he can cope with looping one single time more.

(He’s thought that so many times before. And yet, here he is, still, willing or not.)

“We need to get the timing just right,” Rodney informs the gate techs. He’s taken over the gate room and thankfully the entire base has learned not to get in McKay’s way when he has that steely look in his eye. “We need to engage the program at exactly the moment the incoming wormhole is set to arrive.”

Two minutes to eight. Adrenaline surges, and he wants to run or to fight, but there’s nothing he can do except watch the furrow in Rodney’s brow and the agitated tapping of his fingers against the Ancient keypad.

“Alright, Chuck, ready on my command.”

Rodney’s got this, he tells himself. They’ve got this.

One minute to eight.

“Now!” Chuck sits up straighter, focused on the instruments in front of him. Rodney taps at the keypad, attention narrowed down to the rapidly scrolling code on his screen.

The lights flicker, spluttering overhead and casting the gate room in an eerie disjointed light. The gate starts to rotate, the screeching noise louder than usual, the illuminated symbols seeming to glow more brightly.

There is a moment of absolute stillness, and then -

The whoosh of the outgoing wormhole connecting is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. He can get out, he can be free, he can live. He doesn't have to be alone any more.

Blood rushes to his head in great waves and makes him dizzy, like this might all be an illusion, like it might disappear at any moment.

He checks his watch. It's two minutes past eight.

He lets out a hysterical peal of laughter, staggers away from the gate controls, and passes out.

-

He wakes up not in his quarters. The antiseptic smell of the infirmary is the sweetest breath of fresh air.

Elizabeth insists he needs medical supervision, but there's no chance of keeping a hoard of curious scientists away from an oddity like the man who looped through time. So he's in an infirmary bed being gently grilled about the experience by Zelenka, who has apparently been elected their representative.

Elizabeth does her best to project an air of calm as she asks, "Is there any way to know how long we were looping for?"

Zelenka pushes his glasses up on the bridge of nose. "It is hard to say for certain, but extrapolating the current season based on the length of the days, we must have lost around six months."

"Six months?" Elizabeth turns to him, aghast. "John, I can't even imagine."

She means well, but he can't handle pity right now. He plays it off casually, with a wink and a smile. "Trust me, you don't want to." He swings his legs off the side of the bed and calls out to Carson. "Doc, I'm good to leave, right? Pretty sure I'm healthy as a horse, and I've given the research team plenty of material to work with."

Carson looks him over, takes in the weary lines of his shoulders, and eventually nods. He always was perceptive. "Aye, alright. But stop back in tomorrow for a checkup."

"Sure thing. Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm looking forward to a well deserved night off."

-

He is looking forward to a night off, but the very last place he wants to wake up tomorrow is in his quarters. He'd sooner sleep on one of the piers, or in the locker room, or on a hive ship. Anywhere but there.

But there's another option. Or at least, there might be. So he finds himself fidgeting outside Rodney's door.

The door opens while he's pacing back and forth in the corridor.

"Sheppard?' Rodney blinks at him. "I was just on my way to find you. Earlier you seemed… so I thought… well, this must have been hard for you. What are you doing in the hallway?"

He doesn't have an answer for that. Instead he considers.

Rodney's hair is mussed, the way it gets when he's been deep in thought and running his hands through it. His fingertips are pinching together, a hum of low-grade anxiety that surrounds him whenever he has to confront emotional situations. He's wearing an old grey hoodie, one of his favorites because it's soft, even though he thinks it makes him look dumpy (it doesn't. Or maybe it does, but it doesn't matter, because it's comfortable and warm and it smells like Rodney. John knows because he's stolen it tens of times. It's one of his favorites as well.)

John knows him, knows every part of him, and he's so close he could reach out and touch him, but he's a million miles away as well.

"... John? Do you want to come in?" Rodney's face pinches into a concerned frown. "We don't have to talk, if you'd rather not."

He could walk away. Turn on his heel and leave, never mention any of this, let the whole incident fade into obscurity. But he's so close to having what he wants: something new, something familiar, something beautiful.

He takes a breath. Here is his chance. Now or never.

"Actually, I think we should talk." He lets himself smile at the precious memory, one perfect moment crystallized like a diamond from months of crushing pressure. "I made a promise."

[roberttchase]

Manner minded or double trouble? Both SO matty? Maybe Christie looking after him?

double trouble: [character] is sick and injured.

I will be writing the manner minded one separately :) I hope you enjoy this (somewhat more detailed than I'd originally planned) ficlet.

Send prompts to my inbox.

+ + +

If you were to ask Matt Casey if he thought he was lucky, for the most part he would answer with 'no'. Yes, he's lucky enough to have Sylvie Brett as a girlfriend, lucky to have gone to the fire academy, lucky to have been promoted to a lieutenant and then captain. But he also had an emotionally abusive father as a teenager, a murderer for a mother, his girlfriend of eight years was killed, his wife left him. For every good thing, it feels like there are three bad things in his life.

So he can't even really say it's a surprise when, while on scene helping squad rescue two victims in a car that's balancing precariously close to the frozen Chicago River, Matt loses his balance, slips from the hood of the car, and falls almost twelve feet onto the ice that then suddenly cracks underneath him, submerging him in below forty degree water. Nothing in his life is ever easy. Intense pain radiates from his chest, his body feels like it's on fire, and then nothing.

From there, the scene is absolute chaos. Sylvie and Violet are both off shift, spending the entire week in Joliet helping teach at a conference. The two paramedics that are on scene are instantly calling for backup, while both Severide and Tony frantically suit up in scuba gear for precaution. Boden's yelling orders, but the three other members of truck are all frozen, staring at the large hole in the ice, from which their Captain is currently very much not getting out of.

+ + +

"Christie, you really don't have to do this, Severi-"

"I know what Severide said, but I'd feel more comfortable if you stayed with me." Christie Casey frowns, looking at her younger brother. He's at least four shades paler than he should be, cheeks flushed and eyes dull. Stubble consumes the lower half of his face, and the firefighter looks exhausted. She can't say that she blames him, not with the hell that he's gone through the past thirty six hours.

She'd gotten the call from Stella Kidd yesterday, a kind but shaky voice telling her that Casey, Matt, had fallen into an icy river, and was at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center being treated for two broken ribs and mild hypothermia. Arriving half an hour later, she'd been taken into Matt's room, where they had him on enough pain medication he was basically incoherent. One of the doctors had explained to her that the next few hours were important for any person who'd almost drowned- inhalation of the river water had occurred, and aspiration pneumonia was a large possibility. For a naive moment, Christie was certain that Matt would be fine.

Matt's never that lucky.

It's how she finds herself now, half glaring at her brother, who's been given instructions to stay with someone for the next forty eight hours, while his body wars with itself. The red haired doctor had explained that unless the mans fever reaches over 102, or his breathing deteriorates, he's allowed to stay out of the hospital. Severide's offered to let him stay at the loft, to take next shift off and watch over his best friend, but she tells her brothers best friend no. She needs to be able to watch over her little brother, if his paramedic girlfriend can't.

She's already talked to Sylvie, had called her only an hour after getting the call herself. They'd come to the conclusion that as long as someone was there to watch Matt, she needed to finish up the week for the CFD and CEMS.

"You ready to leave? I'm bringing you back to my place. Violet's got the guest room all ready for you."

Matt blinks and then nods, shoulders curved in slightly, one arm wrapped around his side. He looks a little woozy, though that could be from the pain pills being pumped through his body. That, or the fever he's sporting. April wheels him to the front of the hospital while Christie grabs her car and pulls it up to the curb.

Half an hour later, Matt's being helped into the guest room, where, sure enough, the bed has fresh sheets and a few extra pillows have been added for the man who isn't supposed to lay flat on his back. She gets him under the covers, thankful he's cooperating, and by the time she's back with the meds in a little plastic cup, as well as a glass of water, Matt's asleep.

"Matt, hey, you have to wake up and take your medicine, then you can go back to sleep, okay?" She shakes him as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt his ribs any more than they already are. She must knock something loose though, because not a second later he starts coughing, low and harsh, and his eyes flutter open. Gasping for air, they wait for his chest to stop spasming. His arm is cradling his side and she feels terrible, wishing she could help.

"I just need you to take this medicine, then you can sleep again," she promises, holding the cup out for him. When he nods, the woman lets the small pills tumble onto his open palm, and soon he's swallowing them tiredly.

"C-Can you stay?" The words are quiet and hang in the air as she turns to leave. Pausing, Christie turns back and is struck by just how young Matt looks, laying there with fever flushed cheeks and sallow skin.

Moving slowly, the woman gets into the other side of the bed, carefully shifting to get comfortable.

"Just like old times huh?"

She knows he's referring to their childhood. Christie can't help but smirk a little at the memories.

"Are you talking about when you would come crying to me because you were afraid of the dark?" Her tone is teasing, and instinctively she lets her fingers find his hair, running them through it just like she did when they were young teens and their father had been yelling at them.

A laugh bubbles out of Matt's throat, but it quickly changes to coughing, and it takes a moment for Matt to calm down, sipping water before replying.

"I was actually talking about when I was eight and caught whatever that punk across the street had after he coughed on me. I remember I was out of school for a week, and you stayed with me as much as you could."

She remembers it well.

+ + +

Matt never gets sick, not when he was a baby, and not now. She's always been the one to come down with colds or strep throat, and Matt always manages to avoid germs. He had been sick once when he was a toddler, once, but other than that, she can't remember him ever even getting a runny nose. And then Michael Jeffries goes and coughs all over him on the bus when she's in fifth grade and he's in third, and Matt's record of not getting sick goes down the drain.

It had been on a Monday. That following Thursday afternoon, Christie's waiting for Matt to get on the bus when their bus driver tells her that her brother has apparently gone home early. The whole ride home, the eleven year old is upset, not for her brother, but at the fact she wasn't taken out early either. Why did Matt get to go home and play when she didn't? By the time she's walking into their small home, the blonde is stomping her feet and slamming the door behind her, ready to ask why her stupid brother gets such special treatment.

Instantly though, she realizes something is wrong. Mommy isn't downstairs like she normally is, but instead of being worried, the girl let sher anger build. Running up the stairs, her ponytail swaying behind her, Christie's ready to yell and throw a tantrum, but she freezes when she sees her mom sitting on Matt's small twin bed. She's holding their big blue bowl that she always gets out when Christie's stomach is sick, and Matt is throwing up, coughing and spluttering after, while she rubs his back. Cautiously, Christie walks into the doorway.

"Mommy...what wrong with Matt?"

Nancy and Matt look up, the older woman rubbing her sons back.

"Matt's just not feeling well honey, he'll be alright."

Christie frowns and looks at her brother, whose cheeks are a startling bright pink, his skin pale.

"He looks really sick..." Suddenly she's not mad at all anymore, instead she's worried, no, scared. Matt doesn't get sick. That's his superpower, just like hers is liking vegetables.

Before any more words are spoken, Matt coughs and lets out a strangled little whine. "M-Mommy..."

Christie turns her face away as Matt gets sick this time, not wanting to watch anyone throw up. Instead, she goes and busies herself with finding paper and her crayons. Sitting down on her bedroom floor, the eleven year old goes to town with making her brother a get well soon card, the only thing she knows she can do in this moment.

That night, while she and mommy eat downstairs, Christie can hear Matt crying with Daddy. The second she finishes her food and washes her plate off, the blonde runs upstairs, wanting to make sure the younger boy is okay. She stops in front of his room, but no one's there, the twin sized bed with dark green sheets is empty, even his beloved stuffed bear is gone. Walking further down the hall, she sees the two she's been looking for in her parents king sized bed.

Matt's laying against Daddy, Bear clutched in his hand, his ear against the boys lip. Daddy smiles at her and puts a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. Nodding, Christie tiptoes in and peers at them both, before climbing in putting a delicate hand on Matt's shoulder, hoping he'll be ok.

+ + +

Brought back to the present, Christie feels Matt's forehead and sighs. "just try and sleep okay? I'll be here if you need me, okay? I won't let anything bad happen to you Matt."

It's as if it's all he's been waiting to hear. It takes him all of two minutes to fall back asleep, head resting against his sisters shoulder. She supposes that this can be the start of all the years she'd missed taking care of him after she'd left for college. He deserves it.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Familiar Green

Damian Wayne x Reader Soulmate AU

In an AU where when your soulmate and you touch you feel sparks and intense warmth! Damian is around 16-18 ish in my head!

  Being a sucker for a good love story you couldn’t help but always feel jealous watching your classmates, friends, and even strangers on the street find their soulmate. You watched as kids bumped into each other only to see their eyes meet at the feeling of sparks. What did the “sparks” even feel like? As a child you were about ready to touch an electric fence to understand the feeling. 

  As you grew up your focus eventually left your soulmate and you spent far to much time focussing on school work. You got into Gotham Academy on a merit scholarship from the Wayne Foundation and you were determined to put it to good use. Money was a sore subject and your family had been scraping by since you could remember. Your parents were soulmates and always said that their love would conquer all or some sappy shit like that. The only thing you were in love with was knowledge and that was just fine. In classes you were attentive and quiet, learning quickly no one liked a smart ass. Teachers often slipped you materials for projects knowing you probably didn’t have them at home and you sat in the back minding your own business.

  You never ran with the popular crowd. You had friends you walked to class with and studied with, especially friends who were as driven as you but you never had a BEST friend. The person you tell everything to and a confidant who shares your passions and jokes with like no other. You would wait for the sparks to show you who that would be. 

  Currently, you were planning a speech for the annual Wayne Family Gala where all their merit scholars would show what they were doing with their scholarship. The speech was somewhere in between intense bragging about your grades, achievements, and experiments while also thanking the Wayne family every two words. You had it planned perfectly: big purse to get snacks for the endless speeches, the same dress you’ve worn the last two years, and one gratitude dance then home. Easy. 

  When the bell released you from the last class you began pushing towards freedom. Students grumbled and shoved through the tight halls and you rolled your eyes at the stupidity of those walking against the crowd or those stopped to chat about nothing. With the door in sight you sped up, pushing hard when you felt a zap. Your heart stopped, turning around to the sea of people pushing past you. The feeling was comforting yet alarming, the friction of just tapping shoulders was enough to stop you dead in your tracks. What seemed like endless hoards of people pushed past you while you stood begging for the person who felt it too to run back to you.

“Look at the genius who forgot how to walk”

  Words shook you from a daze as you looked up to see a football star with a 2.1 GPA staring you down. Rolling your eyes you headed out for fresh air and a walk home to prep for the gala, but you couldn't shake the feeling resonating in your shoulder.

-- agressive time skippppp -- 

  As you watched your classmate wrap up his speech on his first place win at the Math Olympics you realized it was time for yours. The two of you did a quick high five before you found yourself alone, shaking hands clutching note cards with bright white lights blinding you from seeing Gotham’s most powerful staring expectantly up at you. With a deep breath, you began recounting the highlights of your year. Finding Mr. Wayne’s face up near the front you saw him nodding as you detailed your research with collegiate professors, perfect test scores, and passion. Thanking the board members one last time you looked to the cameras and gave a big smile before heading back behind the stage.

  Once away from the prodding lights you let out the breath held in for the entire speech. Until next year Gothamites. Detailing your plans to chat up the rich folk, dance in front of the cameras photographing merit scholars then leaving and probably getting fast food on the way home, you smiled to yourself knowing it was almost over. Heading out to the main floor you listened politely to the rest of the speeches before scouting out the person with the biggest net worth in the room. 

  Making your way around the room, you accidentally locked eyes with none other than Mr. Wayne who gestured you over. Estimating that the money held between Mr. Wayne and the men he was talking to stood around a couple trillion dollars you gladly complied, hoping to find a sponsor for more research, maybe even college scholarships.

  “Hello Miss. It’s y/n right?” you politely greeted Mr. Wayne trying not to gawk at his suit that probably cost more than your family’s rent. Finding your inner confidence you took the opportunity to explain your passions and ask questions of the people in the semi-circle formed around you. While talking, a young man came to stand next to his father, clearly impressed with your credentials. After a couple glances you recognized the light smirk and emerald green eyes as Damian Wayne. You saw him as the opposite of you, he floated through Gotham Academy on Daddy’s wallet, barely showing up to school and often wearing dark sunglasses to hide what you assumed to be a hangover from partying the night before. Giving him a curt smile you continued, mostly focused on David Shield, a man about 55 who ran a series of fancy hotels, he shared passions with you and looked very interested. 

  The more you spoke the more Shield focused on you. Eventually, he offered to bring you to get a drink (non-alcoholic you assumed) and talk about a possible partnership. Quickly you began thanking the men around you will either a nod or a quick handshake. You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to shake Bruce Wayne’s hand and you almost fainted when you realized you were shaking hands with THE Bruce Wayne. Lastly you turned to Damian and saw Mr. Wayne pat his back, forcing him to hold out a hand, rolling his bright green eyes lazily. As you went to shake it Mr. Shield tapped your shoulder hurrying you saying “let’s go princess I’m in a hurry here” as he started walking off. This was the opportunity of your lifetime, you tried to walk past Damian, hurriedly trying to follow Mr Shield. When your shoulder brushed Damian’s and you felt the familiar sparks again your heart ripped in half. You could swear you heard them crack and pop in the air as you locked eyes with his green ones. Ready to forget about Mr. Shield you turned to Damian only for him to put two hand on your shoulders and mouth “Go I’ll find you” as he tried to direct you towards Mr. Shield. Where his hands made contact with your collarbone warmth erupted you could feel each finger radiating and sizzling against your bare skin. 

  In a daze, you felt Damian let go and you stumbled towards the bar. Mind racing you couldn’t stop turning back to Damian, who was in deep conversation with his father, both of them stealing glances at you. Trying to focus on the room and not the cold feeling from missing your soulmate’s touch you felt a hand snake around your waist and pull you towards the bar. Looking up at Mr. Shield who held your waiste for far too long you tried to shake off all thoughts of Damian and secure your future. Mr. Shield told you to call him David and he tried to order a fancy alcoholic drink for both of you. Asking for a club soda he paid and the two of you spoke about shared interests and a possible collaboration. Trying to focus on the conversation and not the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest was extremely difficult. 

  After sipping bubbly water with Mr. Shield David and him deciding to grant you the money you needed you felt ecstatic. Trying to wrap up the conversation and look for Damian Mr. Shield wouldn’t end the conversation with you. Your heart sunk as you saw the paparazzi follow Mr. Wayne, Damian, and his three brothers out of the ballroom. The only breath of hope you felt was seeing familiar green eyes frantically scanning the ballroom for who you hoped was you, but his eyescouldn’t find yours.

  Defeated you returned to speaking with David but decided it was late and you were feeling more lightheaded than normal. He offered a ride home and you couldn’t pass it up, not feeling too well, probably because of the loud atmosphere and heavy air. Getting up you felt him place his hand in the small of your back and though you tried to twist or politely shake it off he kept it there. As you stumbled towards the door you felt worse and worse. Knowing something was seriously wrong you decided it was better to wait outside for your parents to come get you. You tried to explain the situation but Mr. Shield adamantly said you had to come with him. Beginning to get woozy and frustrated you started pushing him away.

“Y/n sweetie let me take you home” he purred

“You don’t even know where I live let me go” you stopped dead in your tracks.

“C’mon just right here let’s get in” he gripped your arm and immediately fight or flight kicked in and momma didn’t raise no bitch. You began to hit his chest, yell, and try to slither out of his grip. Your fist connected with his chin and he stumbled back, visibly angered he advanced toward you and you realized this was not going to end well. Closing your eyes you braced for pain but felt a smaller, latex covered hand wrap around your waist with a woosh. 

  With your eyes still closed you couldn’t tell if you really were floating in a stranger's arms or if you were just heavily drugged. Opening an eye you saw the gala building grow smaller and you decided it was definitely the former, but probably also the latter. Sucking in a breath you looked up to see a domino-masked, red and yellow-clad vigilante holding you with one arm and a grapple with the other. Realizing you were literally hundreds of feet above solid ground you wrapped your arms around Gotham’s own Robin squeezing his neck and feeling a familiar spark. Unable to connect the dots due to a heavily drugged brain you clung to the hero praying for your life until you heard 

“y/n we’re safe now” from a familiar, and very concerned voice. 

  Peeking up you realized he was still holding you as you clung to him though he stood comfortably stable on the roof of a building. Gingerly you put your feet on the ground, not releasing him from your grasp feeling the sparks fly between your fingertips and his neck. Looking up at Robin you moved a hand to his cheek, sparks sizzling and jumping more so than ever. And in what was probably not your smoothest moment you mumble

“hey Damian” at the masked figure. Your fingers instinctively tug at the domino mask and as you expected, the same piercing green eyes looked down at you. 

“hello y/n” he nodded. His eyes began to scan you for any signs of pain and you assured him you were fine.

“disgusting of David Shield to try to drug a teenager especially my own soulmate TT” your heart fluttered at the acknowledgment of the bond. You reached up to touch his face again just to check the sparks were still there. Like clockwork electricity danced between the two of you. Content with the feeling you decided to share some personal information. Whatever Shield gave you made you bold if nothing else.

“You know I’ve wanted a soulmate my whole life. I’d let Shield go after me again if it meant I’d get to meet you. Especially if it meant my soulmate was this hot holy hot damn” Damian’s eyes softened looking down at you and his lips pulled into a smirk but you could tell no amount of comfort would stop his anger. 

“Trust me beloved no one will go after you ever again” he pulled you against him and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his torso, fitting together like a puzzle. Even with a cool breeze blowing around the top of the building the warmth from holding your soulmate was enough to have you melting into his arms. In that peaceful moment every cliche made sense. This was feeling you wanted to feel forever. You heard a light buzz from his earpiece with a voice asking about his location and status. With a curt reply Damian told you it was time for him to take you home. Holding onto Damian as he swung down he whispered in your ear

“I could get used to having you in my arms beloved” and with a giddy smile you replied

“I’d hope so lover boy you’re kinda stuck with me forever” at this he squeezed you tighter, his eyes shining with an emotion he’d never felt before and you looked up filled with excitement for the emerald green eyes you’d spend the rest of your life looking at.

[thebadgerclan]

Seconds Away

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader (Golden Era)

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Death was seconds away from both of you...

The reader loses part of her leg in this, there’s nothing graphic depicted, but she does lose a leg.

A/N: Idk if the killing curse works the way I wrote it to, but let’s pretend it does 😂

Curses flew in every direction, some missing you only by inches.  When you’d arrived with other members of the Order moments ago, you found that Harry and his friends were grossly outnumbered: two Death Eaters for every one of them.  You’d known that Harry might try and get into the Ministry, but you never thought he’d actually do it.  You thought he’d have taken his Occlumency seriously, you thought he’d place more value on his friends’ lives.  But you could scold and yell at him later, right now, your focus was getting him, his friends, yourself, and your fiance out of here alive.  

Lucius Malfoy had just been knocked flat on his back by Mad-Eye, Tonks was duelling Rodolphus, and Kingsley was taking on Dolohov.  Remus was herding the kids out of the room and to safety, and you allowed yourself a moment to breathe.  Four Death Eaters were Petrified or Stunned on the ground, the rest still duelling.  Your fiance, Sirius, had just Petrified Lucius, and he wore a triumphant smirk.  But you saw what he didn't, and you wanted to scream.

Bellatrix had appeared behind him, and what happened next seems to be in slow motion.  Her wand was drawn, pointed directly at Sirius.  Her lips hadn’t formed the curse yet, hadn’t spoken the words, but she didn’t need to.  She had murder in her eyes, and you were moving before you realized it.  Sirius saw you running towards him, and he smiled, not knowing death was seconds away.  You, Sirius, and Bellatrix all spoke at once:

“Y/N!”  “NO!”  “Avada Kedavra!”  You shoved Sirius to the ground, landing atop him, and stabbing, searing pain hit your leg.  “Y/N!”  Sirius screamed, face terrified and pale.  “Oh my god, Y/N!”  You were dizzy, black shapes popping over your vision, and you so desperately wanted to sleep.  “Stay with me, baby, keep those eyes open for me.  HELP!  SOMEONE HELP!”  Bellatrix raised her wand to strike again, but she was knocked off her feet by a spell.

Remus was sprinting towards you, horror on his face.  You were paler than anyone had ever seen you, your left leg bent at an odd angle.  “Get her out of here,” the lycanthrope instructed, voice hard and level.  “We’ll take care of things here, Harry’s safe, get her out!”  Sirius nodded, lifting you into his arms and Apparating away.  You were fading in and out of consciousness, you had no idea what was happening or where you were; all you knew was that Sirius was holding you.

Death was near, you were certain, and if you were going to die, you were happy to go in your love’s arms.  “Someone help me!” Sirius shouted, and you heard several pairs of feet running towards you.  “Merlin’s beard!”  “What happened?”  “Is she dead?”  “Not, but she will be if you don’t help!”  One of the people approached you, a young woman in green robes, and you realized you were at St. Mungo’s.  “Good Godric,” the healer said.  “Come on, we’re getting her to a room.”

Sirius began running down the hall, jostling you slightly in his arms, and you whined.  “It’s alright, baby,” he soothed, eyes darting down to yours.  “We’re gonna get you help.  Just stay with me.”  A moment later, Sirius laid you on a bed, and a flurry of healers surrounded you, pushing Sirius from sight.  They were all talking over one another, and you were woozy, and you only caught snatches of what they said.  “KIlling Curse… never seen this…necrosis, it’s spreading…”  You heard Sirius gasp from behind the crowd of healers, and you wanted him near you desperately.  

One of the healers turned to address Sirius after casting several diagnostics.  “It’s a miracle she’s alive,” he said, and Sirius nodded curtly.  “She was hit in the left shin with the Killing Curse, but you know that.  The limb is dead, and the curse is spreading, and fast.  We need to amputate to stop it and save her, and we need your consent.”  “M-mine?” Sirius stammered, overwhelmed with information.  “Yes, Y/N is in no state to consent to a procedure like this, and there’s no time to track down a next of kin.  But I have to ask, what is your relationship to Y/N.”

“I’m her fiance,” Sirius said.  “And please, save her, do whatever you have to do.”  The healer nodded and turned back to the bed, barking instruction to his fellows.  The bottom portion of your leg was grey, the tissue dead, and the color was rising rapidly.  Sirius couldn’t look away as the healers worked, expertly cutting through skin, muscle, and bone, until your left leg ended just above where your knee is--was.  The healers healed the rest of your leg, leaving a smooth, unscarred stump.

You’d passed out completely, or maybe the healers knocked you out, Sirius didn’t know, but when they stepped away, you were unconscious, looking as if you were simply asleep.  “She’ll be fine,” the healer said, wiping his forehead.  “She’ll be asleep for a while, but she’ll be alright.  I’ll get you the information of a woman who makes magical prosthetics.  If you hadn’t come when you did, Y/N might not have made it.”  The healer clapped Sirius on the shoulder and exited, leaving the two of you alone.

Sirius pulled a chair over to your bedside and sat down, taking your hand in his, kissing it tenderly.  “Y/N, darling,” he whispered, though no one else was here.  “Please.  You’ve got to wake up.  Please, baby, I need you.  Please wake up.”  Sirius wasn’t sure how long he sat for, eyes trained on your face, your hand in his, occasionally kissing it and telling you how much he loved you.  The healers came in a few times to check on you, each time telling Sirius that you were doing well and not to worry.

“She’ll wake soon, don’t worry.”  But Sirius did worry, quite a bit, actually.  The sun was peeking over the horizon now, and Sirius remained at your side, unwilling to leave for even a second.  His legs were asleep and his back ached, but he didn’t care.  All he cared about was you.  Sirius nearly flew out of his seat when you moaned, and his heart began to race.  “Y/N?  Y/N, baby, can you hear me?”  “Hmmm, Sirius?”

He couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face, and he moved closer to you, squeezing your hand.  “Yeah, baby, I’m here.  Can you look at me, sweetheart?”  You did, slowly  rolling your head over the pillow to look at your fiance.  When your eyes met, it was like a bucket of cold water was dumped over your head, and you sat bolt upright.  “Harry!  Sirius, where’s Harry, is he alright?  Are his friends alright?  Oh god, is anyone dead?”  “Hey, shhhh,” he soothed.  “Lie down, puppy, everyone’s fine.  Harry and his friends are back at Hogwarts, everyone from the Order’s fine, we’re all fine.”

You looked around, taking in your surroundings.  “What happened?”  Sirius knew you weren’t asking about the battle, you were asking what happened to you.  He took a deep breath, squeezing your hand again.  “Bellatrix hit your leg with the Killing Curse,” he began, stroking your knuckles.  “Your leg...it started dying, and it was spreading fast.  I brought you here, and they-”  Sirius broke off, remembering your amputated leg for the first time.

“They what, Sirius?  What did they do?”  He sighed, tears pricking at his eyes.  But he had to be strong for you now.  “They had to cut off your leg, Y/N.”  Your eyes widened, and you threw back the thin blankets, seeing the absence of your lower left leg.  “Oh my god,” was breathed, and Sirius stood, sitting on the edge of the bed, putting an arm around you.  “I’m sorry, Y/N, it was the only way to save you.  Are you alright?”

In truth, you were devastated, but if you were either going to lose part of your leg of your life, you’d pick the former every time.  “I’m in shock, I think,” you said.  “But I will be.”  Sirius nodded, scooting closer to you.  “I couldn’t let her hurt you,” you went on, the words spilling without your knowledge.  “She was going to kill you, Sirius, I could feel it.  And I couldn’t let her do that.  I had to save you.  And if it meant my death, then-”  You choked, a sob breaking forth.  Everything hit you at once: how close Sirius had come to death, how close Harry and his friends had come to death, how close you had come to death.

Sirius pulled you tight against his chest as you sobbed, rubbing your back as the breath caught in your throat, kissing your head as your tears soaked his shirt.  You cried for 20 minute without pause, letting the anger, fear, and sadness of the day past wash over you.  When you calmed, Sirius gently tipped your head up so he could look at you.  Your eyes were red and puffy, and your nose was running.  “We almost died today,” you said, voice hoarse from crying.  “Sirius, fuck, we almost died.”

“But we didn’t,” he said, cupping your cheek, kissing your forehead.  “We’re alive, Y/N.  Everyone survived.  Yeah, a few people got hurt, but we’re all alive.”  “I almost lost you.”  Sirius kissed you again, your lips this time, and you leaned into his touch.  “I almost lost you too, Y/N.  But neither of us lost each other today, we’re alright.  Hurt?  Yeah, but alive.”

You were crying again, tears silent this time, and Sirius wiped them away.  “Sirius?”  “Yeah?”  “Will you hold me?”  “Of course I will, puppy.”  Sirius gently lifted you, careful not to jostle you too much in case you were in pain, and sat in the center of the bed, settling you in his lap and draping the blankets back over your lap.  You snuggled into his chest, winding your arms around his neck, his arms around your middle.

“I love you,” he whispered.  “I love you so much, Y/N.  I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”  “I love you too, Sirius.  I love you more than anything.”  He held you tighter, rubbing your back sweetly.  “Does it hurt?” he asked, and you shook your head.  “No, not at all.”  “Good.  We’ll get through this, puppy, we always do.”  You nodded, lifting your head to kiss him.  “I know we will.  I love you, Sirius.”  “I love you too.”  Death was mere seconds, inches away today, but it passed you by, granting you more time with the man you loved.

[linorangge]

Codes | Bangchan College! AU

Chan takes an interest in the generous computer science major and makes it his mission to befriend her. (Content Warning: Mild swearing, suggestive language, TW: VOMIT). Word Count: 1430 | Part 1 | Part 3 | Thank you for the support on the first part ! Chan loves you all :)

Friday night, most of your essays were done, so you decided to go bowling with a few people from your friend group, Jihyo, Rose, Jeongin, Beomgyu. The night was young and you did a bit of a drinking game. A shot was taken for every bowling pin that wasn’t knocked down. This of course excluded Jeongin and Gyu since they were underage, and therefore the group's designated drivers.

Jihyo, Jeongin and Beomgyu were rather very good at bowling, whereas you and Rose’s skills were rather questionable.

The first round, Jihyo missed one pin, and took a shot of vodka. Rose missed four pins and, well, you know how it goes downhill.

“Can this be a practice round?” Rose said as she watched Beomgyu pour the four shots.

“I downed mine, so you should too.” Jihyo said as she sat down, ready to see Rose gradually get slammed.

Rose sighed and picked up the glass. You and Jeongin watched from a distance as you waited for the dispenser to pump out your ball.

Rose downed the shot and picked up the next three quickly. After she downed the fourth, she coughed and gasped.

“Do you need water?” Gyu asked, already handing her bottled water.

Rose took it and chugged.

You and Jeongin looked worriedly at each other before you prepared to play your turn.

Right off the bat, your ball went into the gutter, and the next two times, the same thing happened.

So there was Gyu, laughing as he poured twelve shots of vodka.

You sat at the table, sulking as Jeongin took his turn. You envied his youth because he had no consequences of his missing pins.

“I’m such a lightweight.” you mumbled as you picked up the shot and slowly downed it. Your chest burned and stung as you continued to drink the other shots. You felt woozy at your seventh shot.

Once your twelfth shot was down, you felt the sandwich you ate earlier slowly creeping up your throat as you continued to play.

The shot count after only five rounds varied widely. Your rough start gave you a large disadvantage considering you were stumbling to roll your ball.

Jihyo had taken six shots, Rose 7, and You, 24.

You were complete ass at bowling.

Everyone was surprised you weren’t facedown on the floor, crying into your vomit considering your lack of experience with drinking.

However, there was a mutual, silent agreement among the group.

You needed to go home before you hurt yourself.

“Y/n.”

You sloppily turned to face Jeongin and gave him a lazy grin, “Jeonginnie! You’re sooooooo cute.” you giggled as you pinched his cheek.

“Let’s go home.” Jeongin said as he slapped your hand away and took you by your arm.

“Let me say bye first.” You turned to Gyu and reached across the table and took his face in your hands, “Beomie, my precious, sweet, young angel. You are a prize, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” you kissed his nose and stumbled over to Jihyo.

You held her hands in yours and kissed them, “You are a literal god, never leave my side.” You kissed Jihyo’s nose as well.

“Rose, you are a queen, never stop following your dreams, beautiful.” You slurred as you blew her a kiss and stumbled back to Jeongin.

“You’re so dramatic, even when you’re drunk.” he grumbled as he wrapped his arm around you in order to steady your balance.

“Silence you young thief.” you said as you shushed him.

“Thief?”

“Yes.”

__

“I love you Jeongin.” you slurred as you placed kisses on his forehead repeatedly.

Jeongin pushed you away, annoyed not so much because of the skinship, but because you reeked of alcohol.

“C’mon, let's get you inside.” he let you lean against him once again as you stumbled to his dorm. Once you arrived, you were very unaware of your surroundings, including Chan and Jisung who were sitting on the living room floor, watching Jeongin struggle to keep you from falling over.

“Can you quit staring and help?” Jeongin huffed as he gripped your waist.

Jisung got up and gingerly guided you to sit on the couch. Chan watched in shock, seeing his distant crush blackout drunk was not what he expected to see when Jeongin got home.

“What happened?” Chan asked Jeongin as he watched you reach out to pinch Jisung’s cheeks.

“Drinking game while bowling.” the younger boy explained, shrugging and then plopping on the floor next to Chan.

“How many shots?”

“I don’t know like over 20 at least.”

“You don’t know?” Chan groaned and let his head hit the couch cushion.

“Heyyyyyy, you’re that guy.” you slurred as you crawled over away from Jisung and towards Chan.

“You recognize me?” Chan lifted his head and excitedly turned to face you.

“Yeah, you were kinda weird but it’s okay.” You pat his fluffy hair down.

Jeongin chuckled and shook his head.

“I don’t know why but I feel betrayed.” Chan said as he sulked a bit.

“I’m going to the store to buy her some sort of medication for when she wakes up, Jisung you wanna come with?” Jeongin said as he stood up. Jisung obliged and as they headed for the door, Chan stopped them.

“What about y/n?” Chan said gesturing to you.

“Take care of her, maybe you can finally spend some sort of time together.” Jeongin bid him farewell and left.

“What’s your name again?” you asked, tracing his features with your eyes.

“Chan, you can call me Chris, or Bangchan.”

“Hmmmmm okay Chris.” you got off the couch and sat next to him on the floor.

“What’s your major?” you asked him, still taking in his facial features. Your eyes travelled the expanse of his brown eyes, his sharp jawline, his strong nose, the way his eyes crinkled the tiniest bit when he talked. You looked at his perfect, pink lips and reached out to touch them, then immediately stopped yourself. In that moment, you realized how attractive he was. You then reminded yourself that you were drunk, and that you probably won’t remember his face, much less this moment, much less, the entire night.

“Are you okay?” Chris had a worried look on his face. Of course, you had zoned out.

“No,” you stood, and felt that sandwich creeping back up again.

“Oh god, come on I’ll take you to the bathroom.” Chan stood with you and quickly led you to the bathroom.

You kneeled in front of the toilet, awaiting your doom.

“Is it going away?” Chan asked.

You shook your head and dry heaved, nothing coming out.

Chan scurried to hold your hair back.

You once again heaved and let out a small noise. Another heave from you, and then, pieces of your lunch started coming back up,

The smell was gross, but bearable, and at this rate, Chan didn’t care. He would’ve done anything to make you feel better.

Chris rubbed your back, still holding your hair, as you continued to vomit.

When the deed was finally done, Chris flushed and wiped your sweaty forehead for you. He let you splash your face with cold water.

“Put some water in your mouth but don't swallow it.”

You did so and looked at him.

“Don't swallow it.” He repeated.

You gave him a pleading look.

“Don’t.” he gave you a stern look.

You gave in and spit the water out.

“I’ll get you a toothbrush, do you want to shower or anything? I can find some clothes for you to use if you want.”

“Sure,” you said, cringing at how hoarse your voice was, “Thank you Chris.” You said giving him a weak smile.

“Of course.” He smiled back, his eyes crinkling in a cute way.

He left the bathroom, and you sat on the closed toilet seat.

You’d sobered up a bit, and the reality of the situation hit you like a truck.

You hardly knew this guy and he’d held your hair back and took care of you while you threw up. Who even does that? Much less a complete stranger who in reality didn’t have to help you.

He didn’t have to hold your hair back, or get you a toothbrush, or comfort you, or find you clothes to wear after showering.

He didn’t have to, and yet he did.

And the simple fact that he didn’t have to hit you the most because who even does that for someone they hardly knew?

That’s what made you realize, maybe this Chris guy had more depth than you’d thought.

[meltwonu]

s n a k e     |     e y e s     [chapter 7]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; SWITCH!WOOZI, jihoon being a bit of a brat, mutual masturbation, blindfolds, cockwarming, some dirty talk 🥺💕 thank you to everyone for being so patient with me! Some new minor characters in this one too!! 💕💕 Also this chapter is abt 4k+ so strap in for the ride~ 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - x - x - x

The first thing Jihoon notices when he wakes up is that he feels cold despite being wrapped up in a ton of blankets.

His tired eyes scan the room, noticing he’s now in your shared bedroom and that the heaters and humidifiers had been moved into the space to help bring his temperature back up. A whimper escapes his lips as he shifts slightly, tiredly nuzzling into the soft sheets. He also picks up on familiar scents; eyes fixated on the door while not making any movements to get up.

And almost like he wills it, the door slams open, Mingyu on the other side with a worried face.

“Jihoon-hyung!! I’m here!!” The tall puppy hybrid bounds towards the bed, a fistfull of flowers in his grip as he kneels next to it. “I knew you were awake! Are you okay? Do you wanna eat?” Mingyu’s ears flatten atop his head in worry, tail swishing behind him as he leans closer into Jihoon’s face.

“You wanna cuddle?”

“...No.” Jihoon’s voice is hoarse, tugging the bed sheets up to cover his face. “Where is Seungcheol-hyung? I assume he’s here with you.” The puppy hybrid sits back, crossing his legs as he sits next to the bed on the floor.

“I think he’s still talkin’ to Wonwoo-hyung.” A lightbulb goes off in Jihoon’s head; that must’ve been the other hybrid that he had picked up on other than Mingyu. Wonwoo was a red panda hybrid and also a doctor on staff at Seungcheol’s. Jihoon never really saw him since he usually only came around when there was a medical issue, but he did remember Wonwoo from the few checkups he had while at Seungcheol’s.

“How long have you guys been here?” Mingyu sets his, clearly, stolen flowers on the nightstand, a pout on his lips as he stares at the ceiling.

“Well, you’ve been asleep for like 13 hours? I think we’ve been here since last night…”

“Wait… last night!?”

Mingyu quickly relays the info to him; letting Jihoon know what exactly happened while he was knocked out.

You had called Seungcheol immediately, letting him know that Jihoon had passed out in your arms and that he was colder than usual but breathing fine. Seungcheol had shown up with Mingyu in tow 20 minutes later, phone pressed up to his ear talking to Wonwoo when they had arrived.

Mingyu had helped transfer Jihoon into your bed while you and Seungcheol moved all the heaters and humidifiers to the bedroom and Wonwoo had shown up soon after to assess the situation.

“And?”

“Well, then Seungcheol-hyung and I slept in the living room on an air mattress but Wonwoo-hyung had to leave and just came back this morning. Hyung said we should stay overnight just in case, so we did! Um, I think one of the night shift nurses from the adoption home came by at some point?? It might’ve been Joshua-hyung but I was asleep so I’m not sure.” Jihoon asks about you; guilt washing over him almost immediately when he thought of how worried you must’ve been.

“Oh yeah, she was really worried! She slept on the floor in here if I remember correctly. But she’s out there talkin’ to ‘Cheol-hyung and Wonwoo-hyung. Did you want me to get them?”

“Yes, please, Mingyu.” The puppy hybrid gets up and leaves, yelling down the hallway that Jihoon was awake. The snake hybrid chuckles softly, sitting up as best as he can while he waits for you. His head feels fuzzy and a little lightheaded but when you cross the threshold of the bedroom he can’t help but break into a small smile.

“Jihoon! You’re awake!” You all but launch yourself at the bed, pulling him into a comforting hug as he nuzzles into your neck. He takes in your scent; something he had come to love so much. “I was so worried about you!”

“I know, I’m sorry...”

“Silly, don’t be sorry!” The two of you stay in each other’s embrace for a little longer as the other three males stand by the door, watching with fond eyes. But Wonwoo clears his throat, stepping closer towards the two of you. “Um, I hate to be that guy but I need to check how Jihoon’s doing…”

You nod, pulling away and letting Wonwoo do his job. His ears perk up as he gets closer to Jihoon, fluffy tail swishing behind him. You thought Wonwoo was a very cute hybrid. “Hey, bud.”

“Don’t call me that please…”

“Okay, sorry. Anyway, do you know what happened to you? Were you feeling ill or did you have any weird symptoms? Did you know you were getting sick?” Confusion paints Jihoon’s features as he listens to Wonwoo speak. Sick? He hadn’t even felt anything different.

“No… not at all. I mean, I--I was kinda sleepy so I went to lay down and I--I forgot to, um, turn on my heaters and stuff...”

“Is that all? Do you know how long you were asleep like that?”

“I g-guess a couple hours?” Wonwoo hums, “You didn’t feel weird? Like your temperature was dropping?” Jihoon shakes his head no, fingers playing with the sheets as Wonwoo checks his vitals again. “I was just… really tired I guess. I was feeling okay when I went in, and I didn’t--I wasn’t thinking straight. I guess I was distracted.” Wonwoo checks his temperature and heartbeat once more before he pulls away.

“Okay, I mean… your vitals were stable last night, this morning when Vernon came to check and right now. Your temperature is still kind of on the lower side though. You’ll probably feel a low-grade human cold, so sniffles, a bit of a cough, sore throat. Basic stuff. It’s nothing serious but you should probably keep all the heaters and humidifiers on through the night to help bring your temperature up. It’s still raining outside so avoid going outside too. You should be okay in a day or two, realistically.”

Nodding, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. “Is there any medication he can take?”

“I have some cold medication I can give Jihoon. It’ll just help with the sore throat and runny nose but his temperature is strictly based on how quickly his body stabilizes itself.” Wonwoo fixes his stare on Jihoon, making sure he understands. 

Jihoon nods in return.

Wonwoo leaves a small prescription of medication on the nightstand and gives you his direct number just in case you need it. You thank him, getting ready to walk the three males to the door but not before Mingyu stops you all in your places.

“Wait!! I wanna hug Jihoon-hyung if it’s okay?” Mingyu shoots Wonwoo a questioning look, the red panda hybrid nodding silently before he and Seungcheol start down the hall to the door. “Jihoon-hyung may I hug you?”

“...fine…” The puppy hybrid beams before walking over with open arms, slightly lifting the smaller male into his arms as he squeezes. “You need to come visit us sometime!! Seokmin misses you too, y’know!” Jihoon nods, gently returning the hug as he pats Mingyu on the back.

“I know, I’ve been meaning to, I just haven’t found the time. But I will.” Mingyu leans in closer, his lips close to Jihoon’s ear; his canines peeking out when he smirks.

“You should be careful about fuckin’ on the sofa too, y’know. I made Seungcheol-hyung sleep on it but imagine if he knew? Wonwoo-hyung and I could smell it from a mile away.”

“Good, you should know to keep your hands to yourself around here then?”

The three leave soon after and you decide to order in some food so the two of you could properly get some more rest; Jihoon settling back against the pillows as you lay next to him.

“How are you feelin’, Ji?”

“M’okay… A ‘lil sleepy but I think I slept a lot already. Might be itching for a nap in a bit or something.” You nod, intertwining your hand with his. “We can wait for the food to get in and then you can eat and maybe take some of your medicine. We can cuddle ‘til then though.” Not waiting for a reply, you scoot over, wrapping your arms around Jihoon from the side as he adjusts to accommodate you, tugging you into his arms. You nuzzle into his chest; a tiny frown on your face when you can feel the chill radiating off of his skin.

But Jihoon immediately relaxes in your touch, loving the warmth radiating from your body as he wraps his arms tighter around you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“Mingyu said you slept on the floor? How come you didn’t sleep next to me?” There’s an underlying hurt in Jihoon’s voice that you catch, leaning in closer to press a soft kiss to his exposed collarbone. “I would’ve but we didn’t know what was wrong or how sick you were. Wonwoo was worried it was more than a cold so he asked that we all kind of keep our distance, just in case. I had to beg him to let me even sleep in here, to be honest. He’s a pretty strict doctor, huh?” Jihoon smiles, pulling you closer until he can lay a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah, he is. But he’s a good doctor. And as a hybrid he really understands how to take care of other hybrids. Joshua-hyung and Vernon are good nurses too. It’s pretty interesting that the doctor is a hybrid and the nurses are humans, right?”

“Mmm.. it’s a good thing though! Wonwoo would know best and the others are probably good at following his lead since he does. He’s also got a really fluffy tail, s’pretty cute.”

“Are you crushing on my doctor now? The same one that knows we fucked on the sofa?”

You break into a blush, ears burning red when you remember that hybrids had a better sense of smell than humans did. 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, only getting up when the doorbell rings to let you know your delivery is in. You slide out of bed, giving Jihoon one last kiss before you exit the room.

Jihoon takes the time to think. He really did want to go visit the adoption home again; if only to visit the only other friends he’d come to know and like. And even though he always happily accompanied you on grocery runs and even a few times when you had to pop into the office, he figured a trip back was due sometime soon, for himself.

“Okay! I got the food~ Did you wanna eat now or later?” On cue, his stomach grumbles, a sheepish smile on his face as he sits up in bed. “I think now would be good.”

You set up on the nightstand, moving his medicine and Mingyu’s stolen flowers to your vanity. “Where did Mingyu even get these?”

“Trust me, none of us ever know. Back at the adoption home he always came back from walks with the weirdest stuff. One time he found a whisk outside and brought it back in. We still don’t know where he got it.” 

“I mean his heart is in the right place, at least?” Jihoon nods, watching as you grab the bowl of rice porridge and the spoon, sitting at the edge of the bed next to him.

“Are you gonna feed me too?”

“Shouldn’t I? My sick ‘lil baby needs some lovin’.” Jihoon rolls his eyes jokingly but lets you; secretly loving being pampered. The two of you soon fall into idle chatter, enjoying each other’s company while you feed the sick male.

“Oh, by the way…”

“Mm?”

“Mingyu mentioned me visiting them sometime soon so… I was thinking about doing that.”

“That’s fine with me! Maybe you can take Chan with you and introduce him to the others. I don’t know if he has that many friends either. He might like it?” Jihoon nods, asking you to ask Minghao what days were okay for Chan to come visit at some point within the next week. You promise to text Minghao soon, finishing up feeding Jihoon before you set down the bowl and get up to grab his medicine.

“I thought you didn’t like Chan, but I’m glad the two of you seem to hit it off.”

“What? When did I say that?”

“Well… you didn’t say it necessarily but need I remind you what you did to my panties last time?” Jihoon chuckles, a smirk gracing his features as he leans back. “No, I think the kid is nice. Just needs to know his place, y’know?”

“Okay well Mr. Possessive, Wonwoo said it’d be best for you to take these after you eat so I guess now’s a good time!” You pass him the medicine and a glass of water, making sure he takes it before you start to clean up around him.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“In a bit. You’re probably gonna start feeling the effects of the medicine soon, so it’s okay if you want to sleep, Ji. You probably need it so that you can get better quicker.” He watches you tidy up for a little while before his eyelids start to feel heavy, a yawn on his lips as he starts to settle back under the covers.

“Mm… ‘m jus… gonna nap a bit…”

When Jihoon comes to, 2 hours later, you’re in bed next to him working on your laptop. The drowsiness from his medicine was still apparent as he whines slightly to get your attention.

“Everything okay, Ji?”

“Just.. a ‘lil cold… can you cuddle with me?” You set your things aside on the nightstand, adjusting yourself until you’re spooning him from the side. “Still feeling sleepy?”

“Mmm… kinda… usually I’d eat you out by now or somethin’ though. I wish I wasn’t so weak, right now.” You snort. Of course Jihoon always had that in mind. “Is that all you think about? Eating me out?”

“I mean… it makes you extra warm. It feels good for me and for you too.” Ok, not wrong. An idea pops into your head and you bite the inside of your cheek wondering if it was too out of pocket to ask or not. But Jihoon can feel you tense up behind him, his body shifting in your arms until he’s facing you.

“Penny for your thoughts? I could feel your body going stiff.”

“Well… I have an idea… But I don’t know if you’ll be into it or not…” You blush, already kind of regretting even bringing it up, but you’ve already started so you decide to not hold back. “What if we tried… me being the dom?”

Jihoon can’t stop the thrum of arousal that shoots down his spine, already curious about what that entailed.

“I… yeah, let’s try it.”

You can’t help the way your throat feels dry as you rummage through your things; grabbing a silk ribbon and a vibrator from inside your dresser before you strip down to just your panties and bra.

Shockingly, Jihoon had been interested in your ideas, letting you take the reins as he got comfortable, soft pillows tucked underneath his head as he watched you. He couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed in his sweatpants, already anticipating what you had in store for him. “Ji? Wanna use the same safeword?”

“O-oh? Yeah, sure…”

You make your way back to the bed, instead sitting at the foot of the bed across from Jihoon. The room already feels warm with the humidifiers and the heaters going; a bead of sweat trickling down your temple as you set your things down next to you. There was no denying that you were already a little wet; the thought of Jihoon being a sub was always something you were curious about but unsure if he’d even let you have that much control.

“I want you to watch me first…”

Jihoon gulps, eyes trained on you as you spread your legs slightly. You grab the vibrator, setting it to its lowest setting before you start to drag it across your body, up your torso and towards your lips, licking the silicone before sending him a smile.

“You can touch yourself too, if you wanna. But no cumming.”

Jihoon processes your words but doesn’t move, too fixated on you to even care about himself.

He watches you drag the toy back down, running it across your thighs before you press it against your clothed slit, a mewl on your lips as soon as soon as you feel the vibrations. “Mmh, Jihoon…” Jihoon licks his lips, eyes focused on the way your toes curl against the sheets and your legs only spread open wider.

“C--can you take off your p-panties…”

“Hmm? Do you think you deserve it?”

“Y-yes…” You shoot him a sultry smile, setting the vibrator down for a second before you unhook your bra, tossing the material to the floor before you shimmy your panties down your legs. This time, you throw the material towards Jihoon, letting it hit him in the chest as you giggle.

You return to what you were doing, picking up the vibrator as you bring it to your folds again, slowly bringing the toy towards your clit. Jihoon’s mouth opens in a quiet moan the same time yours does, his fingertips gripping the sheets tightly. “Fuck, I wanna touch you so bad…”

“I know you do, but that’s not how we’re playing right now, baby boy.”

The nickname sends a shiver up his spine almost instantaneously.

Jihoon keeps his eyes trained on you as he moves the bed sheets off himself, hesitating for a second before he takes his clothes off as well. “Shit, it’s c-cold…”

“Oh, I know, baby. Don’t worry though. I’ll warm you up soon, okay?” He nods as he takes the panties you’d throw at him and grips the material in his hand. His cock is already half hard, curving towards his abdomen as he brings the material towards it. You watch as he wraps your panties around his cock, using the material to get off on while he watches you too.

The room is undeniably hot; only getting worse when you turn the vibrations higher, a wrecked moan cutting through the air when you press the toy harder against your clit. You can feel the wetness starting to gather on the toy as you drag it down your folds; spreading your legs as wide as you can to give Jihoon a show.

“Wanna fuck me yet, Ji?”

Jihoon’s jaw clenches at your words, his grip on his cock tightening ever so slightly.

“Just as much as I know you wanna sit on my cock.”

Touché.

Jihoon is slightly hesitant when you clamber into his lap, silk ribbon in between your fingertips.

“You gotta trust me, baby. I let you tie me up with my ripped up panties, I’m sure you can be blindfolded for a bit, can’t you?” He nods, licking his lips out of nervousness. “You can always use our safeword if you feel uncomfortable, okay?”

“Okay… I trust you.”

You lean over, wrapping the silk ribbon around his head until his eyes are covered with the soft material.

“Everything okay so far? Not too tight?” He shakes his head no, giving you the okay to continue as you tie a pretty bow to finish it off.

And despite Jihoon’s initial hesitation, he can’t deny the way his body already feels so much warmer with your skin touching his; the sensation heightened now that his vision was diminished. He feels your hands snaking down his torso, your lips on his collarbone leaving soft kisses, and he can’t help but think that he can get used to this.

But the part that Jihoon loves is when you finally sit on his cock, lowering yourself onto him until he’s fully sheathed inside your warmth. Goosebumps are all over your skin when you do; Jihoon’s temperature still colder than usual.

“How are you feeling, baby boy?”

“Fuh--feels g--good…”

Without saying anything, Jihoon keeps his hands to himself, sliding them underneath the pillows as he digs his hands into the soft material. “Fuck, you’re so hot and w-wet around me…” He finishes with a moan, just wanting to plant his feet on the bed and thrust up into you. But Jihoon knows his limits and knows his body is still weak so he lets you sit on his cock, clenching around him every so often. And if Jihoon is being completely honest, just having you do this much was already doing wonders for his body.

“Ngh, I could live like this, y’know.”

“Oh? Just me sitting on your cock?”

“Mmhmm, I’d make you sit on it all day. Then I’d make you beg me to let you cum.” There’s a cocky smirk on his lips and you can almost see the smolder in his eyes through the blindfold.

“Yeah? Just like the way I’m going to make you beg me to let you cum?” Jihoon suddenly hears the vibrator come back to life, hearing it come closer as you press the silicone toy against his torso. He swallows thickly, his head suddenly feeling insanely hot as you bring the toy to a nipple, letting the vibrations assault his skin.

“Fuck! Fuck, please, okay, okay!” He whimpers right after, unable to decide if he wants to arch into the feeling or away from it from how ticklish he was. “Fu--fuck, you’re a demon. You really are.” You turn the toy off, tossing it next to him as you lean in close.

“Oh, I am. But you are too. It’s why we’re so compatible.”

Time passes slowly for Jihoon as you run your hands all over his skin. The urge to cum is undeniable as he tries to stave it off for what feels like the 8th time. 

However, you can already notice a difference in his body temperature which makes you happy, despite the interesting situation.

“I can’t believe you got sick. And that one of the ways to get your temperature up is… this.”

“Honestly? No complaints.” You clench around him for effect, a mewl cutting through the air from the snake hybrid. “Ugh, please… please f-fuck me…” A cherry blush coats Jihoon’s skin as he mutters.

“Can’t take it anymore?”

“N--no, I can’t I--I want to cum, please. I need you to do something, I’m fucking going crazy...”

“Okay, but you can only cum after I have.”

You grab the toy again, letting it buzz to life in your hand before you press it to your clit. Simultaneously, you start to bounce on his cock, alternating between that and grinding down onto his lap as Jihoon fights the urge to push you over and take control.

The room smells of sex; moans bouncing off the walls as you chase your orgasm. “Can you take off the blindfold, I wanna see you…” You figure Jihoon’s been good enough, so you oblige, tugging the bow undone as he pulls the material down. And once his eyes adjust to the light, he takes in your body, watching as his cock disappears into your pussy as you hold the vibrator to your clit. “Fuck yes, make yourself cum on my cock.” Jihoon can feel you getting tighter around him, urging you with pretty praise to fall apart on his cock.

“C’mon, cum for me. I can feel your ‘lil cunt getting so tight around me.” You moan in response, setting the toy to a higher setting before you cry out Jihoon’s name, thighs trembling as you feel yourself cumming.

Jihoon feels a twinge of electricity go through his body as he sees red for a second, pushing you onto your back in the midst of your orgasm. And you have no time to figure out what’s going on before he’s pounding into you; thrusts erratic as he chases his own orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re insane. It took me everything to not pin you down to the bed and just fuck you senseless. And don’t get me wrong, it felt nice to be pampered and doted on but… Fuck, I love fucking you just like this too.”

Jihoon keeps your hand that still has the vibrator in it, pinned to your clit, making you whimper. “Aww, cute ‘lil baby still cumming?” You nod shakily, the overstimulation biting into you slowly as you squirm underneath him. “S’okay, I’m gonna cum inside your pussy now that you’ve had your fun.” He starts grinding against you, growling slightly when he starts to feel himself cum. And he can’t tell if it’s because he had already been feeling lightheaded, but his orgasm feels ten times as intense; tingles spreading all the way down to his fingertips as he cums inside of you.

You moan at the feeling of being filled, your shaky legs wrapping around his waist to pull him in closer. Jihoon pulls your hand away, the vibrator falling to the sheets as he pins your arms down to the bed instead. He watches as you catch your breath, your post-orgasmic face cute to him. 

“God, you’re so perfect for me baby.” He leans down, kissing you on the lips gently as he comes down from his high. You lay underneath him completely exhausted, letting him keep you pressed into the sheets as he enjoys your warmth.

“Fu--ck, Ji, I... how are you even?? Where?? The energy???” You words are jumbled, confusion painted across your features as he smirks down at you. 

“Maybe you took home an incubus and you didn’t know.” 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Crystal Affix

Goretober Day 6: Crystal Gore Fandom: Avatar The Last Airbender Ship: Eventual Azutara Summary: The gaang take Zuko, Azula, and Iroh in after things go very amiss in the crystal catacombs. Azula’s critical wounds leave Zuko confused and conflicted. Note: I liked this prompt so it gets two entries. This is another one that is more of a demo for a possible future fic. 

Specific warnings: Major Injury & Wound Cauterization 

Azula closes her eyes and forces them open again, really there is nothing left to do. Her back gapes open and gushing. She isn’t even sure that she knows what has happened to her. One moment she was fine and the next...there is so much blood and it runs warmly, freely down her back. 

She isn’t one to cry, especially not in front of enemies but it hurts, oh spirits it hurts.

And she knows, she just knows that they are going to leave her here to die. Brother and uncle and the Avatar, all of them. They all have a distaste for her and Long Feng has solved a problem for them, no blood on their hands. 

Her cheek scrapes against the ground below, she is faint and her vision is growing dark. She thinks that if she closes her eyes for too long she simply won’t open them again. And maybe that would be a good thing all things considered. 

She feels nauseous, like she will throw up at any moment. It comes with that queasy, dizzy feeling. “Zuzu?” She calls out. And so quietly that she isn’t sure that he had heard her at all. That anyone had heard her. 

“I can’t just let her die!” She hears. 

She tries to manage a smile. In spite of everything, he is choosing to help her after all. He is choosing honor and his nation...or something like that...she isn’t sure. She can’t think straight. Not right now. 

The sound of footsteps coming closer, several pairs at that, puts a pounding in her head. “Zuzu?” She asks again. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” He sounds cold. Impassive. For once it is hard to tell how he feels and maybe that is because he isn’t sure himself. Likely he is torn between sadness and pity and relief and delight. He won’t have to deal with her anymore. He can be the favorite. 

“Are you going to let me die?” Even if she wanted to she can’t get her voice much higher than a whisper.

“We’re not going to let you die.” Katara declares. But we should, she doesn’t finish but Azula knows that she is thinking it. They all are.

“What are we going to do?” Aang asks. “We don’t have any needles and thread. We don’t have any bandages either.”

“The hole is too big to just close.” Zuko mentions. “It’s like we’d need to find extra skin or something.”

She feels another woozy wave of nausea. Spirits, she is glad that she can’t actually see the wound. She can only feel it and she feels as though the entirety of her back has been cut away. She shivers. She feels so cold. So cold and so hot at the same time. Her head hurts…

“Maybe we can seal it up with a crystal?” Zuko suggests. 

“A crystal?” Aang asks. 

“We can try to cauterize the wound or weld the crystal to her skin and Katara can use her waterbending to heal it as we go.”

Azula cringes. To cauterize a wound, she has thought about it time and time again. The prospect that she may very well need to resort to that for her own survival. But something this big? She grits her teeth. The panic takes her in full. It seizes her just long enough to miss the rest of the conversation. Just long enough for her to not register that they have retreated back and returned with a crystal. She hears the sound of rock sliding on rock and it occurs to her that Aang is polishing the crystal, smoothing and rounding it to fit the hole in her back. She nearly throws up a second time. 

Maybe they think that she is already out cold, maybe they had forgotten in their haste, perhaps they think it would be better to just do it, or perhaps they just don’t care--whatever it is, they don’t give her any sort of warning. No indication that they are going to affix the jewel to her back. 

The feeling, Agni it is searing. White hot and unparalleled. She cries out sharply. They all flinch, whoever is holding the crystal jerks and she cries out again, louder still. This time there is no jarring jerk. Her tears are flowing freely now, her sobs choked and unrestrained. She thinks that it is plenty warranted given the circumstances.

She squeezes her eyes shut. The crackle of a fire fills her ears and she knows that it is coming. She can already feel it. She senses the blade before it so much as grazes her skin. She feels the heat radiating from it.

“I don’t want to die, Zuzu. Please don’t let me die.” She whispers. But, Agni, she thinks that she will. And when he finally brings that red hot blade to her back she very much does want to. She wants nothing more than to let the darkness take her so she doesn’t have to feel that white hot, searing pain anymore. 

He lifts the blade only to bring it down again a little ways to the left. 

“No.” She whimpers. “No, no.” 

He pauses. But only to let Katara bring water to her back, a temporary pseudo relief. “Bite down on this.” Zuko places the bunched up cloth--she thinks that it might be part of her shirt--into her mouth. 

It is the only warning she gets. 

It muffles her screams as she bites down hard. Her fists clench tightly to the point of drawing blood. 

And when the blade comes away again she spits the cloth out and shakes her head. Zuko picks up the cloth, set to put it back in place.“No, Zuzu, stop it.” She says shakily. “Stop it, I don’t want to do this.”

“You told me that you didn’t want to die.” He replies firmly, grimly, before pressing the red hot blade to her back again. 

“I changed my mind, Zuzu. I changed my mind.” She chokes out. 

He ignores her.

He puts the cloth back into her mouth. 

She thinks that he is probably enjoying this. 

Relishing in it. 

So why does it sound like he is crying too?

Spirits, she has never endurded anything worse and probably never will again.

So when the blackness comes with its vengeance, she doesn’t resist it. She lets it pull her under. She welcomes it with open arms. 

.oOo.

Her shrieks still echo in his ears, shrill and haunting. He has never heard her scream like that before, cry like that…

He has never heard anyone scream like that.

It has been three days now and she hasn’t awoken. He isn’t sure which he dreads more; Azula never waking again or what she will do when...if she does wake up. He can’t imagine that she will take well to being on the back of a bison, fleeing from a serious defeat with her political foes for companionship. 

He cradles her limp body in his arms. She is so pale. She looks so small, has she always been small? Has her face always looked so soft, so young? He doesn’t remember that. Had he ever actually looked? 

He grits his teeth and cringes. 

Agni, they are all just kids.

He is just a kid. 

He touches his fingers to his scar. Kids and they’ve already faced mortality, perhaps more than once. 

Kids and they’re already scarred and damaged. 

Kids and they’ve already seen things that a seasoned soldier might faint upon seeing. 

Kids and they’ve already held or watched dying loved ones… Zuko thinks that he is doing both right now. For Agni’s sake they used a crystal to patch her up. A damn crystal, it’s a miracle that they have managed to keep it clean and infection free.

“This is my fault.” He mutters.

“You’re fault?” Toph asks. “Geez, I know that you’ve got some issues but, how can you think that this is your fault?”

“I wanted her to...not exist, just disappear.” Agni he thought it so many times he isn’t sure why he can’t just say that he, on occasions, had hoped that she would just die. “I...I wanted this.” 

“Man, if thoughts could kill, I’d have killed you at least eight times now.” Sokka waves his hand. “Katara probably would have killed you about eighteen times.”

“I don’t think that you wanted that, Zuko.” Katara crosses her arms. He is surprised to hear her saying anything even remotely comforting, she has been cold since he, uncle, and Azula joined them. Cold and untrusting with good reason. He can only imagine the ice that Azula will endure if she ever opens her eyes. 

“We hate each other.” Zuko grumbles. 

“You must not hate her that much if you practically begged us to bring her with us.” Sokka quirks a brow. 

“She would have left me to die.”

“I don’t think that that’s true.” Aang says. Zuko watches uncle take the reigns. Uncle hasn’t spoken to him since he’d chosen Azula over him prior to watching Long Feng drive a sharp crystal into her back. A backstab for a backstab, the words echo in his mind alongside her screams. 

Zuko clutches his head. 

“Are you listening to him?” Katara half-whines. 

Zuko clears his throat. “Yeah, I...sorry. I’m just…”

“You’re stressed.” Aang nods. “We’ve been through a lot.” 

And they’re going to keep going through it. “I don’t know how much more I can take. Everything I do it just doesn’t work. I was going to change and then I let Azula talk me into betraying uncle and going back to father…” And he’d be there now, sailing right back to the man who’d burned his face had Azula not been partially impaled. 

“Well you’re here now.” Toph shrugs. “And we have to deal with you. Sprits, if I have to listen to another set of siblings bickering I think that I’ll run off into the forest and never return.” 

Sokka laughs but Zuko isn’t in such good spirits. Azula stirs in his arms, a gentle reminder that there is going to be more struggle ahead, more confusion and confliction. 

.oOo. 

Azula’s stomach drops, she doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t like not knowing where she is. “Mai? TyLee?” Her head still pounds, she is still dizzy. She sees several slumbering bodies but none of them resemble her friends. “Where are Mai and TyLee?” But who is she asking they are all asleep and…

She winces. Her back is burning. Her back, dear Agni, her back! 

She is dizzy all over again as the memories come back to her. By all accounts she should be dead. Maybe she is dead. Maybe the bodies she is looking at are as dead as her own. But one of them stirs. Her heart skips a beat. 

She is too weak for a fight. 

“Azula?” There is confusion in the voice. Katara’s she thinks. “Azula, are you awake?”

It certainly doesn’t feel like it but she nods anyways. “Where am I?” She should be in a Fire Nation vessel, on her way home to the palace’s best doctors, in the most comfortable bed, with clean bandages and…

“The Dai Li have taken over Ba Sing Se, we had to get out of there and…”

Her brows furrow. “You took me with you? Why would you…?’

“Because Zuko asked us to.” She replies stiffly. Curtly. 

“Why would he?”

Katara shrugs, “I told him that you weren’t our problem and to let Long Feng have you.” 

“You didn’t say that.” Sokka grumbles from his sleeping bag. “She didn’t say that. She’s too nice.”

Katara folds her arms across her chest. “Okay, so I didn’t say that. But don’t think for a second that I trust you or Zuko. I’m just not comfortable letting someone die.” 

Azula swallows. Just how close had she come? “Am I...going to be alright?”

“You’re awake aren’t you?” 

She nods. But that doesn’t mean that she is going to be okay. “For now.” She tries to extend just as much coldness. Her voice doesn’t have much of a punch, rattled and out of sorts as she is. Spirits, she is so tired. 

Tired.

Dizzy. 

She feels her body pitch forward and, to her surprise, Katara catches her, saving her from a good faceplant. 

“Go back to sleep, Azula, I don’t think that you’re ready to be awake yet.”

She isn’t sure that she will ever be particularly ready to wake up to these circumstances. She will have to do it some time, just not right now. Not when she is still trembling and weak. Not when she is nearly certain that her body is still in a state of shock.

[shadow--writer]

Please Don't go Walking Out That Door

(title) After a heavy depressive episode with writing I have returned! \o/ (fuck u helen). Are we gonna mention my word count? Absolutely not. 

Maeve x Lucas. Late nights, bloody days. 4.1k (don’t fuckin look at me)

TW (most of these are squicks): injuries, blood, scars, non sexual upper body nudity (briefly) 

@dela-png

The night stretched on and she felt woozy. 

Sometimes she wondered why she didn’t get help and why she was running this shitshow by herself. At least with extra hands she wouldn’t have to deal with her regulars alone.

The bell rang into the silence, she pressed a hand to her forehead. 

Oh great.

“T-Thumbelina?”

Her head snapped up at the voice.

It was Lucas. 

And he was carrying an injured woman. 

Maeve could just barely see the knife sticking out of her back, and the blood leaking down. The woman was slurring her words, squeezing her eyes shut. 

Maeve rubbed her temples, walking over to the two of them. Her heels clicked on the worn hardwood with her steps. She shut the clinic’s door behind them, closing the blinds around the windows. 

“Good Goddess above, do you get everyone into trouble?” she muttered, taking the injured side arm of the woman. They shifted her to one of the nearest tables. She was complaining the entire time, shaking her arm to get it out of Maeve’s grip.

“Well...no. This one was all her fault.”

“And I can fucking take care of it myself,” she said as Maeve and Lucas shifted her up onto the table. Well those words sounded vaguely familiar. 

“Her fault hm? Let me guess, picked a fight and didn’t realize they were sleazy?”

“...you got it.”

She chuckled, pulling her hair up. “Oh I’ve been there.” She yanked the ribbon closed around her hair, looking at the woman on her clinic table. 

“I need to take your shirt off so I can get a good look at your wounds,” she said, shifting over to look for her pain medicines and needles. A knife in the back could hit a multitude of organs. Stomach, kidney, pancreas, an intestine. 

Sometimes you learn things from experience as well as being taught. 

Lucas looked at the woman as Maeve sterilized her scalpel. “Hey Amani, she’s gonna help you.”

Amani bit at his hand. He shifted away from her, muttering something in a bitter tone. 

“I’m fine! I can fix myself up!” Her voice was a snarl.

Something about the notion of taking her shirt off was bothering her.

Maeve guessed it had to do with something on her back. 

Like a scar.

She set her tools down on the table with a light thump. She was tired and could feel a headache coming on. 

“If I show you the scars on my back, will you let me help you before you bleed out?” She rubbed her temples. 

“I can fix myself.” There was an edge and some very creative swears following it as Maeve tapped the knife. 

“A healing spell isn’t going to do much unless you have very flexible bones and can reach around your back to give yourself stitches. It’ll work wonders for some damage, but can you fix internal? What about stop the bleeding?”

The woman turned away. 

“Amani please. I can’t help you,” Lucas whispered. “I’m useless.”

“You’re aren’t useless,” Amani muttered. “A fucking dumbass for bringing me here instead of helping me home, but not useless.”

“Sorry to say most of my medicine and herbs are locked up as well,” Maeve said, looking at the knife. She would need to get the woman’s shirt off her back to see the wound. 

But maybe not take it of all the way...it was already torn up...and if she didn’t mind the loss Maeve would only need to tear it further instead of taking it off entirely. “You won’t be getting anything.”

She bent over to be eye to eye with Amani. “So you’re stuck with me helping you.”

“Sorry short stack, but the shirt stays on.”

“I will only need to tear it to see the wound.”

“On.”

Maeve huffed. “I will show you my back if you let me tear your shirt. But this is a timed offer as I do not want you to bleed out on me. Do you know how messy that would be? A pain to clean!”

Amani turned to look over at Lucas. He slapped a hand to his forehead. “So this is the Thumbelina you’ve been raving about? She’s a total bitch!”

She flicked her scalpel. “A bitch with a sharp object. Pick your battles wisely.” Her eyes darted down to the knife in Amani’s back. “If you can be wise at all.”

“Maeve!” Lucas wheezed. 

Amani snorted. “Fiery.”

Maeve stood upright, resting a hand on her hip as she sighed. “I’m used to dealing with people like you. Now, the shirt is going to come off one way or another. Question is; do you want me to knock you out or are you going to comply?”

Amani mouthed the word ‘bitch’ at Lucas. He shot her a glare. “Amani, I love you, but please.”

“Yeah yeah. And you still brought me to the bitchy mean doctor.”

“For a knife lodged in your back!”

“That I can take care of!”

“It’s in your back!”

Amani huffed, turning back to Maeve. “So, if you help me, you’ll leave me alone? The both of you?”

“If you don’t decide to bite me first, yes. You’ll have to stay a little bit when the pain meds kick in since depending on the wound, they can be pretty powerful.”

Amani sighed. “Ugh.”

“This is no fun for me either.”

“So...you’ll show me your scars first, right?”

“We are on a time limit.”

“Your back first.”

She threw her hands in the air, Lucas backing away from the hand holding the scalpel. “Fine! Fine!” She set the scalpel down. “We are on a tight schedule but fine!”

She turned to Lucas, the heels of her shoes the only sound for a moment. “Help me with my dress please,” she said, moving her hair off one shoulder to reveal the laces down her back. 

“You want me to what?”

She huffed, frustrated with the two of them. Her headache throbbed between her eyes. She wanted to rub her temples again. “Just...unlace me.”

“But-”

“Do you want her to bleed out?”

He shook his head, hands trembling a little as he untied the bow just under the collar of her dress. His touch was soft against her skin, moving quickly with the time crunch. 

Even so, she couldn’t deny the hitch in her breath as he brushed her skin. 

He grazed a jagged scar between her shoulder blades as he finished unlacing her. 

“So what are you…”

“Showing her my scars as I’ve promised. Then I’ll pull that knife out and hopefully she’ll still be alive in time for me to give her stitches. But of course, she insists on this.”

Maeve rubbed her eyes, walking back to the woman on the table. She watched Lucas with an almost...amused glint in her eye. 

Maeve shrugged the dress off her shoulders. 

“Whoa hold on-”

She shot a glare at Lucas. Apparently even he caught on to the scene before him. “Oh relax, it’ll be quick. And I’m wearing something under this.”

“But…”

“Lucas, we don’t have time to ‘preserve my modesty.’ You may look away if you wish, but this sort of thing is nothing new to me. If she wants to see my scars to be more comfortable with me seeing hers, fine.”

“But you’re-”

“You are abnormally stubborn for someone in your position. It isn’t hard to catch on. If you do not wish to see me undress ever so slightly, then you may look away. But please remember she is bleeding out on my clinic table with a knife in her back. I do not believe we have the kind of time to discuss this.”

“Lucas just admit you like what you see and move on!” Amani called. 

Maeve shot her a withering glare. “And you, you have no place to talk! Making me jump through hoops to take a knife out of your back.”

She held the bodice of her dress to her chest as she looked at Amani. “And here are my scars, are you happy?”

Amani stared at the mess of flesh on Maeve’s back. She knew it was a mess of old wounds. From axes. Arrows. Some burn scars. Bite marks. Knife and sword wounds. She was glad she was related to one of the best healers on her island. 

“Damn.”

“Are we good now? Can I just tear your shirt a little to get the knife out?” Maeve huffed, pushing her dress back over her shoulders. She didn’t have time to lace it so she’d have to make due with showing a little bit of skin. 

All she needed to do was just...heal, stitches, medicine, rest. Then she could get them out of her hair and pass out for a million moon cycles. 

“You can tear it a little…” Amani muttered. 

Maeve let out a tired sigh, picking up her scalpel and needles (with sutures already tied neatly, she anticipated someone coming in. But not this).

She tore Amani’s shirt, revealing a bit of marred skin. Gold paint was flaking off and onto the table. Amani twitched under her as she looked at the skin puckering around the knife. 

“Fucking hell doc, your hands are so cold.”

“Oh yeah I know. Would you rather Giant manhandle you?”

“Gods he’d crush me!” “Hey!”

Maeve chuckled, giving the knife a good tug. Amani spewed curses as Maeve muttered something to herself. It was lodged in there pretty good. She suspected it hit an organ as well. She’d have to be quick with healing and stopping the blood. 

“Well Miss. Amani, you might have another scar to add to your collection,” Maeve said, cleaning her hands on her apron. “And I do warn you, this might hurt a little.”

“Do your worst.”

“Oh I will.”

“Wait-”

She pulled on the knife. It came out with a spurt of blood. She was right about the organ thing, but thankfully it was only the small intestine. Any higher might’ve been stomach or even a lung. 

Healing spells didn’t work with organs surrounded by bone. 

Amani screamed, swearing in another language. 

Maeve tossed the knife to the side, pressing her apron (her poor apron) to the wound. “Calma síos, ba é sin an chuid éasca,” she muttered, her native language a comfort to her. She breathed through her nose, gearing up for the healing spell. 

There was a spark in her palms

And it faded. 

Cursing, she fought for it back, but each attempt fell flat. 

“Thumbelina?” Lucas asked. 

“I don’t have enough fucking energy for this fucking goddamn spell. Shit.”

“Hey! Watch your fucking language in front of a patient!” Amani said.

“I shall do no such thing you fucking nitwit!” Maeve huffed, sweat dripping from her brow. Her hands were stained red. 

“Can you...draw on energy from someone else?” Lucas asked. 

“I could in theory, but I don’t know what it would do to the other person.”

“Could you use me?”

She turned to look at him, her dress fell off of one shoulder. “Could I what?”

“Use me. My energy.”

“He does have a lot of that- OW!” Maeve pressed the wound a little roughly to shut Amani up.

“I don’t know what it would do.”

“I know you can help.”

“Ugh,” Amani moaned. “Stop flirting and help me.”

“We aren’t flirting,” Maeve said firmly. “Lucas come here.”

He shuffled forward. 

“Touch me.”

“Huh?”

“God- just...touch my back.”

He jolted, placing a hand on her bare skin. She sucked in a breath, his hand splayed along her scars. His hand was almost as big as her back was. 

“N-Now,” she breathed. “Visualize.”

“Like what I do to channel my magic?”

He had magic? She wasn’t surprised he had it but surprised he’d use it. 

Nonetheless it lent well. 

“Yes. But channel it into me.”

“Are you sure...it gets kind of...powerful.”

“Just...do it. Giant, she is bleeding out as we speak.”

“Yeah! Help me, then flirt- HEY! Stop that!” 

She pressed the wound again. “Save your breath, you will need it.”

Amani muttered something under said breath as Maeve counted down. 

She was hit with a surge. She gritted her teeth, her hands going numb with the amount of energy. 

Holy fuck. 

“I cannot believe this is just...your magic,” she muttered as Amani writhed under her. Lucas was jumpy, flinching every time Amani slurred out a curse. 

“I’m knitting the wound back together. It hurts like a son of a bitch, but I always stop before they black out. Not healthy to keep going otherwise.”

“Why does it hurt so much?” he asked, his breaths coming out in slight heaves. 

“All magic has its price and drawbacks.” 

She pulled back with a gasp. Lucas leaned against her. Amani stopped squirming. 

“That fucking hurt,” she gasped. 

“Well yeah. You got stabbed in the small intestine. And we still have stitches!” She massaged her temples. She smeared blood along her skin. Mm she’d have to bathe as well. Great.

“You okay there Thumbelina?”

“Mm fine. Just tired. Like you. I’ll be okay. Just gotta fix her up and get you guys some water.” Ugh she was woozy again. Her dress kept slipping down. She kept pushing it up. He watched her.

“You have tattoos on your back.”

“...I do indeed.”

“They’re lovely.”

She stiffened. “T-Thank you.” Amani rolled her eyes. His hand brushed one of her scars, making  her let out a tiny squeak.

“What’s this from?”

“A...brawl with my family.”

“A brawl?” 

“Mmhmm. Hate to brag, but I won. I’m a bit of a feral fighter. I’m sure I can beat you.”

She started Amani’s stitches. Her bodice slipped down her arms. She cursed, pushing it back up. 

“I’d like to see you try and beat me,” he said with a chuckle, holding her dress up and slowly lacing up the back. She went rigid at his touch. His hands were so much warmer than she expected. 

She calmed her erratic breathing, focusing on her needlework. Amani was blessedly silent. 

“I could and I would,” she said, tugging the wound closed.

“I’m like four times your size.”

“Yes but I’m fast. And I have military training. I don’t think you’ve ever seen me in action before.”

“Well no...but neither have you.”

“Ugh can you stop flirting!”

And then the silence was ended. 

“It isn’t flirting, only a conversation while I help stitch you up.”

“Yeah but his hands are all over you.” His hands froze. 

“He’s pulling up my dress.” She knotted the thread, snipping it with scissors she kept nearby. “A mer conversation about me whooping his ass is not flirting.”

“You whooping my ass?” he asked. 

“Now this is flirting.” She turned to look at him. “I would, but I must say, it is a nice ass.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then closed it.

He looked like a fish. 

She giggled, turning back to Amani. She changed the conversation to ignore the heat in the tips of her ears. Even brazen flirting didn’t save her from the effects of the new found feelings she had for him. 

“So I have some pain meds, but they’ll knock you out pretty good if you aren’t careful. I can also fetch you a new shirt if you’d like. This one is kind of a mess.”

She helped Amani to sit up. She ran her hands down the front of her shirt. “No thanks. Rather attached to this one.”

“Of course.”

“Damn, what’s with the way she speaks?” Amani looked at Lucas. 

Like Maeve wasn’t right there.

This headache might turn into a migraine. 

“It’s so proper!”

“Well she normally speaks...differently I suppose.”

“I only get very proper when I have a headache, and the two of you are the root issue,” Maeve groused, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “It was already a long day and now an even longer night.” She always fell back into her aunt's lessons when she was sick.

That or she lost her filter.

She preferred to sound like a lady. She hurt feelings when she didn’t have what little filter on. 

“Ah so this is Maeve? She’s a treasure,” Amani snorted.

Maeve cracked an eye open. “Well a warning about you would’ve been nice as well.”

“He never mentioned me?” She looked at Lucas, jutting a finger at him. “You whore!” 

“Amani!”

Maeve threw her hands into the air. “I’m going to get water both for myself and the two of you knuckleheads.”

“Hey!” they yelled at the same time as she walked away. 

“What and you want to spend the night too?” she snapped, grabbing a few glasses and filling them with water from her bucket. She left bloody handprints but she couldn’t find it in her to care. “You need the water for the medicine anyways. I need it for my headache. And Lucas…”

“...we’ll just go with I’m thirsty.”

“Oh yeah you’re thirsty alright,” Amani huffed. “But not for the water.”

Lucas’ face flushed pink. “Amani!”

“Mmm I’m sure,” Maeve hummed, placing a glass in each of their hands. “And tell me, what on Earth would he be thirsty for?”

“...you know, sometimes I wonder if I can find someone as dense as Lucas and it appears that I have.”

Maeve chuckled. “Oh I’m fully aware of what your comment implies. I get enough of it from my little sister.”

...ah so that’s who Amani reminded her of. 

No wonder she wanted to strangle her. 

She just felt like her younger sister. Had the air of her. 

Gods help her if they ever meet. 

“But it’s more fun to watch him squirm.”

Amani’s eyes lit up. “Oh you. I’m starting to like you.”

“Mmm oh...wonderful,” she replied, moving over to look for the pain meds. “More people to bother me.”

“I thought you liked me!” Lucas protested, making her crack a smile. Her headache was slightly dulled by the water, but judging by how much her head throbbed not even sleep would help. 

“On occasion,” she hummed, standing on her tiptoes to try and reach her lactucarium bottle. This tasted vile, but it was effective. 

She swayed a little, being hit with a wave of dizziness. She stumbled backwards, hand coming down to rest on her forehead as she spat out curses. She most likely hadn’t been drinking water. 

...now that she thought about it she didn’t even eat either. The meal Lucas brought sat untouched in her backroom. 

He would kill her if he found that one out. 

Speaking of…

She looked up at Lucas, who had caught her. She stumbled a little, trying to worm her way out of his arms. Amani was chuckling (and then yelping at the pull on her stitches). 

“You okay there, Thumbelina?” The testing offense gone from his voice. 

“Just a dizzy spell.”

“You’ve had a lot of those.”

“This time it’s from a headache. I’ll be okay once you two go home and I can sleep.”

He didn’t crack a smile like she hoped he would. Hers fell. 

“Did you eat today?”

“Did you?” Amani called. 

“Amani this isn’t about me-”

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“...fine. I didn’t eat. Maeve?”

She chewed her lower lip as he helped her upright. He reached over her to grab the lactucarium bottle. He handed it to her as she let go of her lip. “Well, no. I haven’t had the time and it...slipped my mind.”

“...like I said, you’re tiny enough as it is.”

“Like you can talk.”

“Tell him!”

“Shut up!” they both yelled. 

All three of them stared at one another before laughing. The topic of eating all but forgotten. 

“Okay Amani, this stuff is fucking nasty as hell, but it helps. I don’t have it in pill form so we’ll make due.” She poured a little of the lactucarium onto a spoon, and held it up to Amani. 

“What you’re gonna feed it to- ACK!” She shoved the spoon in Amani’s mouth, watching her grumble and swallow the medicine. 

Amani gagged. “Oh fucking shit yuck.”

“Oh yes. And the aftertaste is worse.” She set the spoon down, untying her bloodied apron and using it to pick up her bloody tools and the knife. She watched the woman guzzle down the water she brought with a chuckle. “See?”

“Lucas you chose to be friends with a sadist,” Amani moaned, pretending to swoon. “She’s gonna kill me!”

“Keep up the dramatics and I just might.”

“I really hope this means you two are getting along.”

“Hmm I dunno. Check in tomorrow.”

Amani snorted. “So maybe she isn’t as big of a bitch as I thought.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She dumped the bloodied tools onto a tray to be cleaned later. She folded the stick apron over one arm. She had blood on her cheek. Wonderful. “But I wouldn’t say that assessment was wrong.”

“You two are the worst,” Lucas groaned. 

“Says the person who didn’t eat,” Amani replied. 

“Neither did Maeve!”

“Well I’m not close enough to her to lecture her!”

He glared at Maeve who was looking very smug. “She’s not wrong Lucas dear. You also have a harder job than I do in terms of physical labor.”

“...you had to hold down Amani.”

“Who was being a pain.”

“Hey! I am right here!”

He snorted. “Okay that is fair. Is there anything I need to do with her stitches?”

“I’d give you aloe to put over it but a certain someone.” A man named Sam. One of her...infamous regulars. “Used up the rest of my fucking aloe.”

He shifted at her tone. “...and you...?”

“Well other than chasing him out of my clinic with a bone saw due to being a pain in my ass, using up the rest of the aloe plant I had. Which was a lot. And then taking candy I save for kids? Nothing.”

“...you chased him out with a bone saw?”

“Why yes I did.” She fluffed her ponytail. “So with Amani, you should keep her in bed for a little bit while she heals. Thanks to the healing spell it shouldn’t be too long. Reopening the stitches means coming back to me though and we certainly don’t want that.”

“Uh Doc.”

“...yes?”

“I think Lucas is still hung up on the fact you chased someone out with a saw.”

“Well he’d better bring his head back down to Earth or you two will be next. Do you have aloe, or can you get any?”

“Oh yeah! I grow it.”

“Oh wonderful! Just put that on your stitches to help with your skin. Honey is a wonderful antibiotic, to keep your wound from being infected. I’d say no heavy drinking or going out for at least a few days. Four at most.”

“Four days?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“...barely.”

“Come back here in a few days and if I give you the okay, go wild.”

“No more nasty pain medicine?”

“Unless the pain gets bad, no.” She looked at Lucas, who looked like he was trying to do a difficult math problem. It made her laugh. “You should take her home to get some sleep.”

He snapped out of his stupor. “And what about you?”

“Well currently, closed.”

“You should eat something.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

“...god that was so fucking awkward. Can I go home to die in peace?”

“You aren’t dying.”

“I dunno that stuff your little fairy, as you’ve called her, might just do me in.”

She felt her cheeks warm. He talked about her? She knew Amani mentioned it before but not it was really sinking in. “Oh don’t be dramatic. It was only pain medicine.”

She helped him get Amani up off the table, the woman muttering about how she was fine and that she could walk fine. 

“Thank you, Maeve,” he whispered when they got to the door. 

“It was no trouble.”

“Sorry we came so late.”

“I’m used to it.”

“You should get some sleep for that headache.”

“I think I can handle it,” she said with a smile. “You take care of Amani now. Oh and Lucas!” He turned around. “Eat something. Please. It’s not healthy to do the amount of labor you do on an empty stomach.”

“I...okay.”

“...bootlicker,” Amani muttered. He shoved her. “Hey! I’m injured!”

“When you’re better you can’t use that and then you’ll get it,” he muttered, making Maeve smile. 

She waved them off, leaning against the clinic doorframe. 

Lucas turned around to look at her, shooting her a small and a two fingered salute. 

‘See you later, Thumbelina.’ he mouthed, making something...spark at her skin as she blushed. 

Oh no. 

[alirhi]

Toy Soldiers chapter 1

Title: Toy Soldiers Chapter: 1/? Fandom: MCU Rating: 18+ Focus: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes Summary: Wounded and delirious but grateful (and shocked) to be alive after his fall from the train, Bucky thinks he's been rescued when he's pulled from the snow. It doesn't take long for him to realize he would have been better off dead. WARNINGS: Language, references to (and possibly graphic depictions of; we'll see how it goes) torture, brainwashing, violence, rape Notes: I don't want to give much away here, but I do want to assure you all that no, I don't ship anyone appearing in this chapter. I'm also not yaddayaddaing the arm thing. more detail on that later.

Once, he would have been grateful to be brought back home to the States. He didn't know it, really, but he was so close to home. It didn't matter, though; just like in Europe, he never left the lab.

“How-” His throat hurt. Was it from how little he'd spoken lately... Or from how much he'd screamed? Wincing, he swallowed, coughed, and tried again. “How long...?”

“Your arm should be operational within the week,” the pretty brunette with the clipboard and the funny accent told him. She looked and sounded so familiar... “If that's what you're asking. Just relax, Sergeant Barnes. You're in good hands.”

It wasn't what he was asking. He didn't even know what she was talking about.

“I trust you'll take excellent care of him, Doctor Zola.” Her clipped, accented voice was steely as she turned to face the small man in the corner that Bucky hadn't noticed. Voice softening as she laid a hand softly on the prone Sergeant's shoulder, she added, “He meant so much to...” She stopped abruptly, cleared her throat, patted Bucky awkwardly, and turned away. “Well. Anyway. Do what you can; I'll be in touch.”

Forgetting for a moment that he didn't have a left hand anymore, Bucky reached for her. He was stunned when her skirt caught on something shiny.

Even more so when that 'something shiny' turned out to be attached to him. “How... What...?”

Dark brown eyes, warm, soft, and so familiar, locked with his as she gently pried the metal fingers loose from her skirt. “Rest, Sergeant. It will be alright.” She stepped lightly out of his reach and the authority returned to her voice as she headed for the door. “Surprising level of dexterity already. Do pass my compliments on to Stark, Doctor, won't you?”

“Stark?” Why did that name ring a bell?

“Of course, Agent Carter.” The little toad in the corner, Zola, sounded so insidious. Bucky hated him already. There was something unnervingly familiar about him, too. As the pretty brunette left, Zola approached him with a grin. “Sergeant Barnes,” he hissed, “You will be the new fist of HYDRA.”

So, he was still in HYDRA's clutches. They'd moved him, he knew, but-

Stark. Agent Carter.

He gaped at the toad, barely registering the reflection of his own stunned, scruffy face in the smaller man's glasses. Zola. Son of a fucking bitch.

The little bastard was quick. He darted out of the way as Bucky surged up and made a swipe for him. He grabbed someone else in a lab coat, instead, and didn't even hesitate. HYDRA. He hadn't nearly died trying to bring them down, only to turn around and let them keep experimenting on him without a fight. The scientist's neck snapped with a very satisfying audible crunch before Bucky was pinned, subdued, and injected with something that made him woozy.

So, Howard Stark and Peggy Carter were working with HYDRA. Fucking traitors. He was still fighting, flinging people off of him and watching in vague amazement as a couple of them flew clear across the room. Apparently deciding the drugs weren't working fast enough, one of them injected him again.

As it finally took effect and the world started to slow and dim, Bucky's last coherent thought was I hope Steve doesn't know.

“How long have I been here?” he finally managed to ask in a scratchy, gravelly voice the next time he was aware.

“A few weeks,” was the dismissive answer he got from one of the younger lab coats. He noticed they stayed out of easy reach as often as they could.

Weeks. That didn't seem right, but it was a relief to hear. If it'd only been weeks, then maybe Steve was still holding out hope; maybe Bucky hadn't been declared dead yet. They'd be looking for him...

His head cleared a bit more, and his heart sank. He'd said 'here', and they'd probably interpreted that literally. “How long,” he tried again, swallowing several times when his throat still ached, “since the train...?”

“Train?” That confused the kid he was talking to, and he glanced at one of his companions.

The other man, late thirties at least by the looks of him and annoyingly familiar, stepped forward. His voice was soft when he spoke, as if he was trying to soothe a frightened rabbit. “It's 1955, Barnes. It's been ten years since you went missing on that mission. We all thought you were dead.”

Ten years?! “Ten... fucking years?” He surged up off the table, only to be caught and held back down.

“Take your hands off him,” the other man snapped, waving the lab coats back. “This man is a hero.”

“He's dangerous, Stark!”

“He's Cap's right hand, for god's sake!”

“Stark.” Eyes wide and feeling panicked, Bucky reached for him. Howard didn't so much as flinch; he let Bucky grab his arms, and even helped him sit up. “Howard. Howard Stark – I remember you. I... Where's Steve?”

The pain in Howard's eyes answered him before his mouth could. Shaking his head in desperate denial, Bucky sank back against the chilly steel. “Don't. Don't you fucking dare.”

“You've never been afraid of anything, Barnes.” Howard winced, hands twitching like he wanted to reach for him, but he didn't. “What did those bastards do to you?”

Closing his eyes against the stab of pain did nothing to ease it; all it did was bring up a rush of dizzying, confusing images. Cold. Blood. Bright lights and gleaming steel. Foreign tongues swirling around him. Pain. White-hot endless nauseating pain...

“Where's Steve?” This time his voice came out a choked whimper, and he appreciated the kindness when no one around him commented on it.

The answer, when it came, was exactly what he'd been dreading: “He's dead. I'm sorry. He went down...”

Tuning out the soft cadence of his once-idol's voice, Bucky sagged against the table. Dead. He's dead. Stupid, reckless, good-for-nothing punk...

“Is he crying?”

“You wanna mind your damn business, Johnson? He lost a brother; let the man grieve.”

“I-it's just... He's been so volatile... I didn't expect-”

“What, human emotion? Try showing some, or get the hell out.” He felt Howard lean closer, and his voice was weirdly gentle again as he murmured, “I'm sorry, Barnes. I know you two were close.”

“Get...” His throat closed. He swallowed a couple of times, allowed a tiny sliver of gratitude when the rim of a cup was pressed to his lips and he got a sip of water, and tried again: “Get out.”

“Alright, Sarge. Alright. I was just checking on the arm.”

There was a soft thunk thunk against something metallic, accompanied by an odd tickling vibration in his shoulder and chest, and then some shuffling. It sounded like someone was moving away, and someone else was coming closer. Bucky didn't bother opening his eyes to find out what was going on.

“He's overwhelmed. Let's- Is that really necessary?”

“He's dangerous, Stark.” That voice sounded too close for comfort. He felt something cold and hard clamp down on his right wrist, and heard the clack of metal against metal on his left, and then a jab on the right. “We either leave armed guards, or this. We can't just let him wander.”

“You're treating him like a crazed murderer.”

“Well, he did kill Simmons.”

“...Right. I forgot about that. Oh, whatever. Fine. Sorry, Barnes, these guys...”

Bucky faded out before he could hear the rest of what Howard had to say. It was just as well; he didn't care what he had to say. Steve was dead. Stupid punk went and got himself killed. It'd been ten years, which meant Bucky's whole family thought he was dead, too. He had no one. Did anything else really matter anymore? This time, when oblivion came, he didn't fight it. He embraced it.

“You will be the new fist of HYDRA...”

The next time he woke, he was screaming; it wasn't enough to drown out the echoes of the little Swiss toad's insidious voice in his head. Why the fuck was he so cold?

“I told you not to put him back on ice!” That clipped voice, the lilting accent... Who was she, again? “He's a human being, for god's sake! He's not an ice cream cone!”

His teeth were chattering so hard his jaw ached as a blanket was thrown over him and tucked up under his chin. What was happening? Who were these people? Who was he? Everything was so foggy...

“Doctor Zola said-”

“Ugh. I'll deal with the good Doctor. Just... Get out of my sight, you wretch! Sergeant Barnes, are you alright?”

Barnes. Sergeant Barnes. “Three two,” he croaked automatically as memories slowly began to resurface. “Five five...”

“Shhh. Enough of that, soldier.” A soft, warm hand stroked his cheek and he smiled softly, leaning into it. “You're safe now.” There was a sharp hiss, and she whispered, “You're still so cold.”

A rustle of cloth made him open his eyes, and he was somewhat startled to see the pretty brunette hastily tugging off her clothes. “Um... Hey, now, you're lovely, Doll, but...”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Half frozen to death and your brain scrambled and what little mind you've got left is still in the gutter. Typical bloody man.”

“What-”

“You need body heat,” she snapped as, down to her underwear, she slid under the blanket with him and pressed in close with a shiver. “You haven't got any at the moment. So take mine.”

“Seems like you kinda need it.” He was pleased when that comment earned him a soft chuckle from her, and he brought his arm up to wrap around her. She was so warm...

“I'll survive.”

“Thank you.” I know her... How do I know her? Punky? No. Punk loved her. P... Pe... “Peggy.”

With her face pressed against his chest, he felt her soft smile, and a little warm glow inside when she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “That's Agent Carter, thank you, Sergeant,” she teased.

Bucky managed an exhausted smile at that. It hurt; his lips were chapped from the cold, but he didn't care. It felt nice to smile, like he hadn't done it in years. “Right. Only Steve got to call you Peggy.”

They both went rigid at that, and Bucky winced as memories started to float back to him. Steve utterly failing to flirt with this woman, pining for her, talking about her, staring at that photo he stuck inside his compass... Steve...

“He's dead.” Howard's words, soft though they'd been when he spoke them, rang like a gong through his head.

“How...” He choked, shivering from more than the cold, and tried again. “How did he die?”

“Stubborn foolishness,” Peggy whispered, her voice just as choked with pain as his own.

Bucky nodded to himself, closing his eyes. That made sense.

“He saved the world.”

He smiled softly and held her just a bit tighter. That made sense, too. “Did you love him?”

She was silent for what felt like an eternity. At first, he thought she might refuse to answer, but then, so softly he almost didn't hear her, she murmured, “I always will.”

“Me, too.”

Another long silence stretched on, and then she told him, “You're all that's left in the world of him, Sergeant. The two of you were as close as any family...” She lifted her head and he glanced down at her, surprised to see how intensely her eyes shone; she was trying not to cry. “So you're forbidden to die, do you hear me? I won't allow it.”

“Then maybe you should turn up the heat in here a little,” he joked, trying to make them both smile, but failing miserably. “Feels like a morgue.”

“Yes, well...” She dropped her head back onto his chest. They were both shivering now; dimly, Bucky recalled that he hadn't been in the first few seconds after he woke, and that it was supposed to be a good sign that he was. “As long as a certain appendage doesn't suddenly get 'rigor mortis',” Peggy was saying, drawing his attention back to her, “I'm sure all will be well.”

The joke wasn't all that funny, but he was so surprised the prim and proper Englishwoman had made it that he laughed. With a rueful grin he shot back, “I'd have to find it first, Doll.”

That got a startled, tired giggle out of her, and then they both lapsed into a pensive silence.

[fuwafuwamedb]

Salvaged from Wreckage (Cu Chulainn, Rin Tohsaka)

She’d thought she would die.

The moment that Shinji had approached, his intent sinking into the very depths of her bones, she’d been sure she wouldn’t survive the night. She’d been sure that she was going to die, that there would be no salvation. She’d felt Shinji’s hands touch her legs, feeling her thighs above knee highs and below her skirt’s protections. She could see the gleam in his eyes, his face moving closer.

Then there had been a flash of a fist.

The boy was flying against one of the walls. A flash of red was coming, landing near her legs. The rope clinging to her legs felt loose, but she couldn’t breathe. The flash of a smile came her way, grim and pleased at the same time. The eyes, red as the blade in his hands, gleamed as the man stood over her. Her mind wasn’t connecting.

She couldn’t comprehend what was happening around her, not entirely. She could see Kirei coming into the room. She could see his lips moving, but Lancer was swinging his hair as he moved to stand before her. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, like a furnace to the cold she’d felt seep so deeply into her.

A blade slammed home into him.

Air was gone.

Hope burst into a thousand shards that jabbed at her heart.

She could see the blade dripping blood onto the floor as Shinji moved to get closer. She could see the amusement dancing in Kirei’s eyes as he moved to get closer.

Then movement.

God, but Lancer was such a damned hard man to kill. He never faltered. Never failed.

The moment they counted him out, just as she had before, he was back. He was up and he was in their face. The blade was singing in the air as it moved. The heat coming off him was coming in waves, filling the room with an energy that left her grinning. There was nothing else she could do but grin at the sight.

He slammed the priest against the wall, his blade stabbing him right back.

“If I died that easily, I wouldn’t be much of a heroic spirit.”

No, he wouldn’t have.

That was a servant.

Loyal. Dependable. Enduring.

She watched Shinji approach. She watched him get prodded and flee. The laugh that came out of her was only paused when she found the man approaching her.

Her eyes met his, the pounding in her chest picking up the pace.

“It looks like you’re in a bad spot.”

“Lancer.”

She went to thank him, but her eyes landed on the wound he sported once more. The elation dropped.

Mana was coming off. There was a fleeting feeling to him, even as he cut her binds and freed her hands. He moved to sit nearby, landing hard against the floor before he spun his lance to rest against his shoulder.

“Get out while you can,” he warned her. “I’m gonna burn that priest and myself out of this world. A gal like you needs to be gettin’ back to the war. I have a feeling you’ll win.”

“…Lancer.”

“Get movin’,” he warned her again.

She couldn’t.

The man was bleeding out. The fires were beginning to build, spreading forth around them and heading towards the direction of the priest’s stabbed body. She could see the mana breaking apart, the servant before her vanishing.

“It’s a shame,” he tells her. “I could have gotten a confident master like you.”

He could have.

She could have also gotten a good servant-

Rin paused.

She had no one. When she left this room, she would have to make Emiya come back to heel at her feet or find another servant. She would have to have a servant to help her win…

Her eyes fell to the man with his eyes closed, his head was leaned back against the pallet of wood behind him.

Each step brings her closer to the flames and the slowly vanishing body of the servant before her. She can feel the floor meet her knees. Her hands are reaching out as the man murmurs.

“Summon me again when you’re a little older.”

Rin shakes her head, moving in closer and holding his face a little more. Her head tilting, eyes closing as she closes the space between them. The fire is kissing at her skin, warming her as she feels her mana flowing forth to the man. She pushes more into him, feeling him moving to hold her back. A shiver is running through her. A current is running through her veins.

The stone floor meets her back, the sound of the man’s weapon skittering to the floor can be heard before she feels his hands running down her person.

“You’re supposed to leave.”

“I-I can’t.”

Her eyes open, looking up at the red eyes glinting as he looks down at her.

She can’t leave here without a servant. She won’t last a moment out there. She is surrounded by those who would betray her. No one had come to rescue her, only him.

“I told your little friend that I wouldn’t take you from him,” Lancer reminds her.

“I don’t even know what that means, but you need a master. I need a servant.” Rin holds onto his shoulders, feeling a shiver run down her spine as she stares up at him.

“It ain’t safe here.”

“Then as my servant, you should get me out of here.”

His mouth came down hungrily, setting her body ablaze in more of this feeling. Those arms of his are pulling her up from the fire’s path, bringing her close.

The words of the summoning are on her lips, welcomed a moment later by his own response.

His lips press to her neck as she feels the room moving. Or rather, the man is carrying her towards the door, bringing out into the world.

The sound of fighting can be heard.

She’s not sure what’s going on, but she’s outside before she can look into what’s going on. Her head feels woozy. Her body feels weak.

“We’re leaving,” he murmurs. “We’re going home, master.”

The sound of the title for her seems to hang in the air, charged with the sound of excitement. She can feel his hand delved deep into her hair and holding onto her back carefully. Her legs are wrapped around his waist.

Rin moves her hands carefully to hold his shoulders, looking back as the building behind them fades away.

They’re still in a war.

Nothing has changed in that regard.

However…

The air whips passed as Lancer takes a leap to one of the fences nearby. She can feel him holding her waist as they continue off through the night. She can feel the wind whipping passed her face, making her shiver and hold onto the man tighter.

His warmth envelopes her so nicely.

His lips pressing to her temple a few minutes before she finds herself in front of her house.

“Let’s get you inside.”

“You knew where I lived.”

How had he known?

“My former master wanted to have me keep an eye on you. I stayed off the premises and kept watch. I was only within view of the place, never inside.”

He sounds far too animated about things though.

She can feel him behind her still as she opens the door. A hand carefully leads her in before she finds the door closed and bolted.

They’re home.

They’re home, but it’s different.

She can’t figure out what to do now. He’s here. She’s here. She’s contracted to him. He’s checking the windows and moving around the house.

But she doesn’t know what to do.

Archer would move to make her tea, complaining to ease things from the battle. Lancer checks the house before coming back to find her still in the doorway. The man’s armor dissipates, leaving him in a casual looking white shirt and dark pants.

He’s… different.

The thought had never struck her as much as it did now. Archer and Emiya had both been similar. She had control and she could feel that she could take them, if need be. They could throw a comment or two back, but she never felt like she was really testing her limits or around something foreign with them. There was nothing new about their presence.

Lancer, on the other hand, was tall and muscled. His blue hair was long and he brushed it back lightly before moving over to her side.

“Come on. You’re still in shock from things. We should have you rest up for a while.”

“I-I’m fine.”

The man’s face came too close.

“I-I am!”

“You’re not fine,” Lancer murmurs. “You’re gawking at me. We’ll get you a blanket and something warm for the gullet before settling in. The priest is dead and that former servant of yours is probably gone as well. We’ll investigate later.”

“You think he’s gone?”

“Probably. A guy can’t last without a master for long.” The man shrugs again, “we’ll investigate in the morning, but tonight is celebratory.”

“Oh?”

There was no missing the fangs in his grin, the light that came to those red eyes as he glanced down at her and practically glowed.

Rin found herself under a heated gaze, her thoughts washing away into obscurity.

“Of course, Rin. I got one hell of a master tonight and it didn’t involve dragging my legs over coals and fire to get. I’m damned lucky for once.”

“Y-yes, well,” Rin moved to brush some of her hair back, only to find it tangled.

“I’ll take you upstairs and brush it out,” the man murmured.

“That’s n-not necessary, Lancer-“

“Cu Chulainn.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s my name, Rin. The hero of Ulster and wild lancer, Cu Chulainn,” Cu gave a low, sweeping bow, that gaze returning as he lifted his head to meet her gaze with his own. “You can feel free to drop the lancer talk and simply use my name.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

A servant’s name said everything. Their strengths, weaknesses, ires; it said exactly how to get under their skin and control them. Like great Achilles and his bad heels, the man’s name could give her insight into exactly how to defeat him.

Cu Chulainn had essentially handed him his leash.

“Nah,” the man replies easily enough, “you’ve got me tamer than a lamb. All yours, in fact.”

The man moved closer, bringing her deeper into the safety of her home. He was bringing her further and further away from the door. It feels like an ocean between her and that front door now. Civilization and another living soul are so far. She’d won tonight, in her own manner. She had her own rewards for being smart.

And somehow, despite that, it felt like she was going to lose something entirely different.

“We’ll make you somethin’ warm to drink, master. Maybe somethin’ sweet.”

The lips that pressed to her cheek had her shivering, nearly dropping as her legs went weak. The kitchen stools were a saving grace as she found the man moving to the stove and pulling the kettle to the sink.

“I’ll keep ya warm,” that teasing voice promised. That smile flashing her way. “You just take a seat and enjoy a better servant’s company.”