#anyway drawing forehead kisses is medicine to my soul

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

---------------------------------

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

[amintyworld]

Secrets - Dream SMP Drabble

WATERFALL (Part one)    SUNSET (Part two)

A/N: Part 3 is finally here! So, bit of a update - this is indeed NOT the final part as I had planned, since there’s so much I want to cover about my own little backstory about two these two lovebirds, including how they get to the SMP. So, more parts to come, be on the lookout! Also, if you haven’t already, links to the two other parts should be above, please check them out if you’d like! Anyway, as always, enjoy!

TW: Arguing, secrets, surprise pregnancy, miscommunication, vomiting, cursing, roughhousing, injury (Not vv bloody tho). (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

---------------------------

“Alright boys, get down here, breakfast is ready!” Philza heard scampering and thudding footsteps on the stairs as both Tommy and Tubbo raced to the table, smiling and laughing all the way. Wilbur walked down next, the only one out of their pajamas as he sat with his notebook in front of him, scribbling ideas, notes, and lyrics. Technoblade was last, not exactly the morning person of the group, as he passed by his two younger siblings and ruffed their hair lovingly before sitting down with a yawn. Phil quickly set eggs in front of each of them, a warm loaf of bread at the center the baker delivered early in the morning. Techno murmured a sleepy ‘thanks’ as Philza set down a cup of coffee with his plate, and Wilbur got up to grab some orange juice for him and Tubbo, leaving it out so Tommy could pour his own as he insisted.

It was a nice feeling in the mornings with his boys, sitting and eating a nice breakfast as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Philza mused over just how much changed over the last few years - they adopted Tubbo, Technoblade and Wilbur were becoming adults - but yet, things still felt the same. The little family was silent as they ate, enjoying each other’s company as the world began to wake up just outside their windows.

Tubbo, to Philza’s relief, was not as chaotic as the rest of his siblings and was all around a responsible and kind soul - at least when he was alone. When Philza walked inside to Tommy and Tubbo covered head to toe in bee stings due to ‘showing dominance over the bees so they’ll be our pets’, he learned quickly that the two younger brothers together would spur on all kinds of trouble. Luckily, he was used to it from the elder two when they were around Tommy and Tubbo’s age. Philza chuckled remembering when Techno and Wilbur tried to corner that parrot to only run home with nothing but a bunch of scratches, bruises, and covered in feathers - he’d snapped a picture before they both cleaned up, both pink from embarrassment.

“So, I’ll be off today checking in and fixing up the garden, going into town for a while, and then going fishing if I have the time. I should be home by around sunset, though.” Philza declared, taking a swig of his morning coffee.

“Me and Tubbo are gonna go find Mothman and catch a couple of pet bees,” Tommy said. As Philza opened his mouth to respond, Tubbo interrupted. 

“We’ll take our swords and be back by sunset.” Tubbo finished. “And we’ll make sure to follow the path and not get lost.” 

Philza chuckled. “Good.” He smiled. 

“Techno and I were gonna train for a bit - I think I’m getting close to beating him.” Wilbur said, and a loud ‘HA’ erupted from his older brother.

“You wish,” Techno smirked. “The day you beat me one on one is the day I give up eating potatoes.” The pig hybrid did love himself a baked potato, and Philza knew that all too well. Chatter spurred on amongst the family, and Philza just smiled, taking in the moment. 

-----------------------------------

“Jeez, is Techno some kind of mega pig demon?” Sally said, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her treehouse, across from Wilbur who looked a little worse for wear. “He went way too rough with you.”

“He didn’t mean to, he just got carried away.” Wilbur defended. “He felt really bad after, I kept telling him it was fine.” Wilbur let out a soft curse as the disinfectant soaked cloth ran over a particularly deep cut on his forehead, and Sally rubbed circles on the top of his hand in a loving gesture. 

“Wil, it’s not fine, you got really hurt.” Sally’s tone turned serious, and Wilbur intertwined their fingers together.

“You’re scared.”

“No shit I am!” Sally yelled angrily before she took a deep breath to calm herself, continuing.. “Wilbur, sure you’re fine now but what if you got worse, and he didn’t stop? What if you got really hurt?”

“I know, I didn’t mean to worry you.” Wilbur gently squeezed her hand. “I promise we’ll be more careful.” 

Sally placed a bandage on the cut on his forehead and planted a soft kiss on it. “Thank you.” Wilbur cracked a smirk as she faced him fully again. 

“How bad’s the damage?”

Sally smiled back. “Just some bruises and cuts, a few days of healing and you’ll be fine. Don’t worry, you still look handsome.”

“Good thing, too,” Wilbur said jokingly. “My face and my guitar’s all I got going for me.”

“Oh please, Beanie Boy.” Sally smiled as she moved to cuddle closer to him, and his arms wrapped around her until they were both comfortable against the wall, Sally’s head leaned against Wilbur’s chest, the girl all too careful in her movements to make sure she didn’t hurt her boyfriend’s many bruises. “Did you win, at least?”

“He called a draw,” Wilbur said. “But, I did manage to use that weapon snatching tactic you taught me.” He laughed a bit. “He totally freaked.”

“Good,” Sally chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep that pig on his toes.” Sally felt Wilbur shift a bit as he tensed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore,” Wilbur said. “Why do I have a feeling I’m gonna regret most of the fight in the morning?” They both chuckled at the comment.

“I’m sorry, Do you want me to kiss it better?” Sally asked, looking up to her boyfriend in time to see a slight telltale pink on his cheeks. He nodded as Sally shifted to sit up more and began leaving some kisses along his arms wherever she saw a bruise, before leaning in to give him a soft peck on the lips where a small bruise was beginning to form.

“It’s almost sunset, I gotta get home or Phil will kill me,” Wilbur said, before tucking a long piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

“Good, someone’s gotta help me refill my stash of supplies,” Sally said, smirking. “I’m all out of beetroot for bruise cream, if you haven’t heard.”

“Will do, my salmon,” Wilbur said, getting up, grabbing his sword, bag, and beanie before heading to the entrance.

“Be careful heading back, you’re still healing.”

“Gosh, you sound like Phil.” Wilbur chided sarcastically before Sally gave him a look. “I’ll be careful, I swear.” Wilbur pulled Sally in for a close embrace, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my salmon.”

“Love you, Wilby.” At the rarely used nickname, Wilbur’s heart melted as he muttered a simple ‘bye’ and climbed down the ladder.

------------------------------------------------

Sally didn’t understand what was going on, and she was mostly kind of scared. Standing over a bucket and puking as the sun rose up was not exactly a great sign. Neither was the weird soreness. Maybe she had some kind of flu or something? Either way, one thing was for sure - she didn’t like this, at all. Being a survivor and runner for years on end, she prided herself for being pretty healthy and knowing a lot of good healing tips and tricks to not slow herself down. Now, she felt ashamed. Weak.

She hoped it was just the flu. Grimacing, she swallowed the medicine and took some water and a snack on her way out - She didn’t want to be late for work. Her hair was a bit of a mess and she chewed a bit of mint to disguise the bad breath she gained from this morning. She felt awful but pushed the feeling aside. It must just be a bug or something, had to be.

When she was old enough, she started looking for a job in town to get some money and not have to worry about hunting every night. Sure, Phil always had a spot for her at the table, but even Sally knew how much he was stretched to the limit feeding five. Luckily, she found a pretty cushiony job at the trade center - where she and a handful of others settled disputes over what was a fair trade and what wasn’t. 

As she worked she headed to steady herself every now and then when she felt sick or lightheaded. It just got worse as the days went on, and it got too much for her to ignore. She left early on sick leave and made a quick stop at the library before heading home, determined to figure out what was going on with her and fix it in whatever way possible. She settled in bed with some hot tea and opened the book: ‘Easy to Spot Ailments Hidden in Plain Sight’. At this point, she was fed up feeling horrible and just wanted it to end. Her head ached, her stomach churned with any bit of food she tried to get down. Her shaking hands flipped through the pages as she looked for what matched her list of symptoms in her head - Nausea, light-headedness, fatigue…

‘Pregnancy, in the early stages, is common to have morning sickness, fatigue, tender or sore muscles…’

Her eyes widened at the thought… pregnant…? She scanned the page intently and as it were - most of her symptoms she’d been suffering the past few weeks were right there. Her mind whirred with the thought of the possibility. Wilbur was still trying to find a job in town, and they haven’t even gotten their own space yet - they definitely were not ready. The shapeshifter’s thoughts turned to Wil - if it was really the case, how would he react? Maybe he’ll be done with her for good because of it, they took precautions but not enough, she didn’t do enough to stop herself from getting into this position. Wilbur wouldn’t be ready yet, she isn’t either - maybe he’ll ditch her for his own survival. 

She wouldn’t blame him. 

It took her a few moments to realize she was crying. Her head was clouded with so many doubts, fears and what ifs she didn’t even notice. She wiped her tears away. She needed to keep a clear head, she needed to stay calm. Maybe she wasn’t even pregnant, she had to check with the town healer to make sure. There was probably nothing to worry about anyway, and she’d have gotten so worked up over nothing!

Now, looking over the positive pregnancy test in the healer’s hut, all she could think was: ‘Shit.’

------------------------------------------

Wilbur strummed a bit on his guitar as he sat cross-legged in his bed, Sally snuggled up in blankets next to him, humming constantly. “Have you been writing, Wil?”

“A bit.” Wilbur smiled. “Nothing concrete yet, I’m afraid.” Sally pouted slightly, her lower lip out just so, dramatic enough to make both of them laugh. “Sorry to disappoint, my number one fan. Maybe I could make it up by playing a song request…?”

“Love your songs, Wilby.” Sally said as she nuzzled to his side and he smiled.

“I know, my salmon.” Wilbur crooned as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Now, what song do you wanna hear?”

“Hm… what about the pretty soft one?”

“You never remember the names, do you?” Wilbur joked as he checked and tuned up the instrument. Sally laughed.

“Never.” Sally said. “Luckily I don’t have to.” Wilbur began to strum a soft tune as he sang softly with the music, and Sally drank it all in with a smile, her heart feeling full.

“You and I

We’re different but somehow we fit.

And I promise you

No matter what, I’ll never quit.

Because you are the good days,

The tough days,

When I feel like I can’t breathe,

I love you, I hope you like me.”

Sally began to sing along as well, and when the song was done, Wilbur put his guitar down and cuddled Sally close. He wrapped his arms around her until she was completely comfortable and they both laid there, just content in each other’s arms. Though Wilbur could tell she was happy, he also could tell something else was up - she fidgeted every now and then, seemingly never comfortable. He knew her well enough to know when something was bothering her - the way her eyes focused too much on the blanket, lost in thought and her eyebrows furrowed were her telltale signs. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing’s on my mind, I’m just tired.”

“You’re fidgeting, you’re staring into space - did something happen at work?” Wilbur asked, concerned. “If anyone’s bothering you-”

“No, no. Nothing’s going on at work.” Sally said. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Wilbur asked, and he couldn’t help but notice her hesitation.

“Yes…” She said before she looked around the room a bit, her body fidgeting more violently. “Where’s the bathroom again…?”

“Just down the hall.” Wilbur grew concerned as he noticed her shaking body rush out of the room. Did… did he do something wrong…? He heard the door quickly slam, and he couldn’t help but replay the events in his head over and over. Did he make her uncomfortable? Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to cuddle her, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“You okay?” Wilbur looked up to see Philza standing in the doorway casually, looking a bit concerned. That’s when WIlbur noticed how hard he was gripping the blanket on the bed, staring off into space.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I dunno if she is, though.” Wilbur said.

“I heard the slam.” Philza stated. 

“Phil, how do you know if someone’s uncomfortable around you?” Wilbur asked, and Phil’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“I guess it depends on the person, sometimes you can tell by their body language... Why?”

“Sally’s been off, she’s not acting like herself. I’m worried about her, I know something’s causing her to be like this, and I dunno if it’s me.” Wilbur said honestly, and Philza’s face turned to a warm comforting smile.

“It’s not you, Wil. I know she loves you just as much as you love her.” Philza said, certain.

“If it’s not me…” WIlbur started. “Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, if I’m honest. But i wouldn’t worry too much over it, okay? I’m sure she’ll tell you what’s going on when she’s ready to.” Phil reassured him. As he told his son, he too tried to keep his worries at bay. He didn’t want to get in the middle of his son’s love life, but if something really bad was happening to the shapeshifter, Phil wanted to help.

-------------------------------------

Philza tried to stay calm as the girl broke down into tears over the two words that spilled over her lips. Part of him wanted to scream, to scold… they were both in their early twenties, but Phil still saw them as kids, kids who didn’t know what to do and were too young to be parents yet. He was mad at them for not being careful, he was upset that Sally felt the need to hide it, and most of all he felt scared for both of them. For the first time in his life, Phil couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t just pull out his sword and fight it all and make all the monsters and scary things go away, and it scared him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second to process, before handing the crying girl a tissue, doing his best to calm her.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… I felt so ashamed that I let this happen, I-” Sally’s voice shook. “If Wilbur knew, he’d probably leave, I-”

“Hey.” Phil’s voice was stern but soft. “You couldn’t have done anything to prevent this, it isn’t your fault, okay?” Sally looked to the floor. Phil rubbed her trembling shoulders as a few moments of silence passed between the two. Phil looked firm. “You’ve gotta tell him.”

“No… no I can’t…” Sally said, images flashing through her head of his disgusted face, glaring at her coldy, telling her that if she really cared and respected him, loved him, she would have been more careful, telling her that he wasn’t willing to get dragged down into her mess, so she’ll just have to deal with it.

“Sally, he’s gonna figure it out eventually. Would it be better if you told him, or if he figured out you kept it from him too late?” Philza said.

“He’s done so much for me, I don’t want to burden him with this. He doesn’t deserve to pay for my mistake.” Sally said softly.

“But it’s not your mistake, it’s not ‘your’ anything, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Then who can I blame, Phil? Why did this happen, then?!” Sally snapped. “What am I supposed to do now… what can I do now?!” Silence once again engulfed the room as Phil sat and slowly took the shapeshifter’s hands in his.

“You know, when I figured out I was going to be a Dad, I was so scared. I was 22 with no stable job, moving from place to place, living off the land, that’s no way to raise a family.” Philza said, staring into space as he spoke, recalling the memory. “I learned a lot, then - like some things happen without a reason… bad things, but also really good things. Amazing things. And, I know that even now, I’m still scared about it all, but I know you’ll both get through it together just fine. You care too much about each other to let anything get in the way of that.” His gentle expression met hers. “What you’re gonna do now, is you’re going to breathe, finish your cup of tea, and relax. Then when Wilbur comes back from getting the honey with Tommy and Tubbo, you’re gonna look him in the eyes and tell him, even if you’re scared. Because as much as you’re afraid of losing him, he’s afraid of losing you, too.”

Sally swallowed thickly, nodding. “Then what?”

“Then, we’ll figure everything out together, okay?” Phil took his own tea cup in his hands and sipped, looking out the window as the sun began to set. Sally, with shaking breaths, sipped her tea as well as the two sat in a comfortable silence. When the door opened and shouts erupted from the hallway, Phil gave Sally’s hand one final squeeze before getting up and taking their empty tea cups to the kitchen. 

--------------------------------------------

“Go. Take your mind off everything for a bit.” Philza had told him as he practically pushed him out the front door. “You can’t just be anxious, worried and cooped up in your room over a girl. Take a break.” When he tried to protest, Philza put his hand up, silencing him. “Besides, Techno’s too busy today to go with them, and someone’s gotta make sure they get home in one piece. Enjoy yourself and have fun, okay?”

Now, sitting under the cover of a bush, all three of them - Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo - looked over toward the bee’s nest. “Okay, what’s the plan here?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy smiled, a plan already forming in his mind.

“Okay, so you lure all the bees out with some flowers, while Wilbur and I get the honey. If it backfires..” Tommy hit his fist against his hand. “We’ll hit ‘em with Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B..?” WIlbur asked curiously.

“Well, it's a highly complicated-” Tubbo began.

“-and a simplistic plan that has always gotten us out of trouble so far.” Tommy said, which did not do much to help Wilbur’s new worries over Plan B.

Tubbo picked a huge pile of lilies and daisies and nervously walked closer while Tommy gave him a thumbs up from behind the bush. “You got this, Bee Whisperer!” He hashly said softly, while Wilbur looked over to him. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” WIlbur said, looking over at Tubbo, ready to tackle him to the ground if things went south. “I know bees like flowers, but I’m pretty sure they can tell the difference-”

“Oh yeah, Tubbo’s got this.” Tommy reassured him. “He’s the Bee Whisperer, after all.” A large glass jar landed with a ‘thunk’ on the soft grass. “You’ll hold the jar while I get the honey.”

“Do you even know how to get honey from the nest?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy looked confused.

“Yeah, you just stick your hand in, and-”

“No, nope, we’re not doing that.” WIlbur said. “You’re holding the jar, I’m getting the honey.” He looked over the bush, and to his surprise, the bees flew around Tubbo peacefully, landing on the flowers he held as Tubbo let out a weird buzzing noise from his mouth. Huh - the Bee Whisperer… cool. 

Tommy muttered angrily in protest as he hauled the jar over at his signal, and Wilbur picked up a stick and slowly began to put globs of honey in the jar.

“Is the reason I’m not doing it because of your women problems?”

“Shut up, Tommy-” Wilbur harshly said under his breath, trying to focus. “You’ll alert the bees.”

“Well excuse me for trying to distract myself, this thing’s heavy-”

“Shut up.” Wilbur muttered angrily. Sure, it was kind of harsh, but he was the one who was complaining. They were about halfway done filling the jar when  a few bees began to fly back to the nest, and Tubbo tried to call them back to no avail.

“I think it’s time for Plan B, Wil-”

“No, it’s just a few bees, Tommy…”

One bee in particular decided to land on Tommy’s nose, and that was it. “PLAN B!” He shouted as he capped the honey jar and gave it to Wilbur as he noticed all the bees begin to run back to the nest, sensing danger. Wilbur pushed him away from the nest. “Run!”

Well, Wilbur did not need to be told twice. He rushed away as Tubbo ran after him toward their hiding place in the bush. Tommy followed soon after, covered in honey and bee stings, his hands particularly sticky. Wilbur looked over to see the nest destroyed. He flicked Tommy’s forehead. “That was a terrible plan, you idiot!”

“Ow!” Tommy rubbed the spot a bit as it burned in pain. “Hey, it worked didn’t it? We’re all safe.”

“You can’t just punch away all your problems!” Wilbur shouted. “You could have gotten really hurt!”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy said quietly, looking bothered by his older brother’s tone. Wilbur sighed, his arms crossed. Though it was good to let his frustrations out, he shouldn’t have snapped at him - Tommy was far from the one who’d been aggravating him recently. Tubbo looked at the two, then to the jar.

“Well hey,” He said, smiling, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Look at how much honey we’ve got.” He moved the almost full jar in front to show off. “This has gotta be enough honey for the bee farm, Phil’s gonna be impressed - we make a pretty good team.” Tommy brightened a bit at his friend’s words, though still kind of hurt, and moved to take the jar from Tubbo.

“We should be heading back, the sun's almost down.” Tommy said as he stood, picked up the jar and walked off, Tubbo close behind, and then Wilbur at the back. 

Wilbur would be lying if he said the past few weeks had been easy - he tried his best to just stay calm, but every time without fail Sally would always rush away, or snap at him. If she was upset with him, he wished she’d just tell him instead of playing this stupid guessing game. He felt like he was walking on eggshells around her, and he hated it. He didn’t like all this secrecy, he didn’t like not being able to just talk with her the way they used to. He was upset and angry with Sally, he just wanted to know what’s going on, is that such a hard thing to ask?

He scoffed to himself - he was supposed to be keeping his mind off it, but he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t even relax when things were so tense with her, how pathetic is that…?

“Wilbur?”

“...What?” He asked, snapped out of his thoughts by Tubbo, who pointed ahead.

“This is the right direction, right?”

“I’m not Techno, but… I think…” He looked around, scrambling for some familiar landmark. Tommy was in front, uncharacteristically quiet. Then, he spotted a rotten tree log, and it clicked in his mind where they were. “Yes, just a bit that way.” He moved toward the front, and Tommy kept his eyes forward. Feeling awkward, Wilbur touched the sft fabric of his beanie, taking in his hands and running his fingers over it, taking a breath before finally breaking the silence.

“Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Tommy’s eyes were fixated on the jar for now. “You’ve been so off lately, and I just thought maybe if we dragged you on some crazy adventure, I’d get you back. But it still followed us, I don’t understand… is it me?”

“No, I… it isn’t, Tommy.” Wilbur said, focusing on the knitted stitches as he formed the words to say. “I’ve just been- Things with me and Sally have been... complicated, recently. Still, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“So, you really are having women problems.” Tommy’s tone was serious, an oddity for the usually joking teen. “You really care about her a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah, I do.” Wilbur breathed.

“No wonder. I haven’t seen you this torn up about anyone in… in well, forever.” Tommy smiled, not joking or smirking, but just smiled. “We’re here for you, you know.”

“I know.” Wilbur smiled as the two made eye contact. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at each other anymore?” Tubbo asked from behind them, and the two brothers smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah I think we’re done.” Tommy said as Tubbo wrapped his arms around both of his brothers shoulders with a relieved smile. 

“Good, because I did not want to be walking home in that awkward silence for another hour.” With that, laughter erupted from all three. 

-------------------------------------------

Philza smiled, eyebrows raised in a bit of surprise as he took the jar of honey from Tommy, looking at his condition. “Should I even ask?”

“We used Plan B.” Tubbo said with a smile, making Tommy smirk.

“I punched a thing.” Tommy said confidently, and Philza laughed. 

“Go get cleaned up, both of you - and don’t forget to apply that sting cream.” The two boys marched to the bathroom as Philza set their prized jar on the counter. Back in the living room, Wilbur’s gut ached uncomfortably as Sally walked toward him, giving him a sad smile. 

“Hey.” Her hands found their way into his and their fingers interlocked. It felt… nice.

“Hey.”

“Do you, uh… can we talk? Alone?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah. Okay.”

Sally’s hands never left his as they sat down on his bed in his room, the door closed behind them. Though for the past few weeks Wilbur had so much he wanted to say to his girlfriend, now he couldn’t seem to find any words as they just sat in silence for a few moments. The fur on Sally’s ears and tail stood on end, and she took a deep breath, looking at their hands as she finally spoke.

“Okay, Wil… there’s something I’ve gotta tell you.”

Wilbur’s heart felt uneasy by your nervousness, worries filling his mind of finally figuring out the truth… and if he didn’t like what it was. If Sally decided to break up with him - all the uncomfortableness would make so much sense, why would she drag it out for this long… he really hoped it wasn’t that, but… it seemed more and more probable. 

“You’ve probably noticed I’ve been acting weird, right?” She asked as he nodded. “Well, remember when I told you that I used to not be attached to anything, because I knew it could only lead to disaster?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well… I’m attached to you, a lot. I’ve realized it lately, and I’ve realized I don’t… I don’t want to lose you. I was so scared that if I told you, I would, and I… I love you too much to lose you, Wil.”

Is this what she’d been upset about?

“You’re never going to lose me, Sally. I promise…” He said, relaxing a bit as his mind whirred about the entire situation. He kissed her forehead softly as he pulled her in for a comforting embrace. “I promise I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Sally smiled, beginning to relax a bit more, but still a bit nervous. “That’s why it’s been so hard to tell you, Wil.”

“Tell me what?”

Sally took another deep breath. “Wilbur, I’m pregnant.”

Wilbur blinked a few times, trying to process what his girlfriend had just said. Pregnant. She… she was pregnant. That was not what he was expecting her to tell him in the slightest. But, it did explain some things - her frequent bathroom trips, for one. His mind slowly began to put the pieces together, how it made so much sense…

“You serious…?” He asked her, and she smiled, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“One hundred percent, Wilby.” Her voice shook with nervousness as she mustered a smile, not knowing what he’d do or say next. Wilbur broke out into a huge smile as he took Sally into his arms and spun her around as the two laughed, smiling. Wilbur was so relieved that it wasn’t what he thought, that it was the farthest thing from his worries. All the anxiety, the fear… it all went away. They both fell into the bed, smiling and laughing. Wilbur planted a soft kiss on Sally’s cheek as he moved to cuddle her tightly in his arms. “So… you’re not upset with me?”

“No, why would I?” Wilbur said. “Of course, I mean, it’s unexpected… but, we’ll get through it together.” His attention quickly turned to her, his relief turning quickly into concern. “Are… are you okay? I can’t imagine what you’re going through, if you even want the baby-”

“I’ve had lots of time to think about it.” Sally laughed. “And, I’ll admit I had mixed feelings at first - partly because of what you’d think, but partly because I’ve never even thought about kids, you know? It always seemed so far off.”

“Well, if you’re uncomfortable about it, we can always talk about other options, or…” Wilbur said, trying to reassure her.

“No. No… I…” Her eyebrows furrowed, and her ears flicked back and forth. “I think I wanna keep it.” She looked over to Wilbur as her hands found their way back into his. “I was so scared of losing everything that I kept this from you for so long… I don’t want to be scared anymore.” She laid her head against his chest, finding the words as her eyes were glued on their hands. “I want… I want you, Wilbur. I want this.”

“Are you sure, we don’t have to decide anything right now, I don’t want to pressure you-”

“Wilbur.” Sally reached up to cup his cheek with a comforting smile, feeling happy, relieved, and content. Of course, part of her was scared of the unknown, but Sally knew that what Phil had told her, what Wilbur told her was the absolute truth - she and Wilbur would get through it together. Her hand moved his over her stomach, and Wilbur couldn’t help but smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

You wouldn’t see it at first glance, but they were both absolutely terrified at the new adventure waiting for them. Yet, somehow, in each other’s arms, they felt safe, secure. Like they could do anything. I guess, looking to what would come next, that was more true than either of them would think.

[mcthehuman]

Lucifer, Satan, and Beel with a Sick F!Reader

I’ve been thinking of domestic Lucifer and Satan for a while so I wrote this imagine, I added Beel too because he’s a soft boyo. Should I make for the other brothers?

Lucifer

Even after everything, Lucifer suddenly remembers - you're still a human, a fragile and mortal human - as he watches the witch, Agnodice, care to your wanned body. A white glow glazes over the witch's hand and she places it on top of your feverish forehead. When you groan, Lucifer's body immediately reacts, but the witch's smirk pulls him back, a frustrated line draws on his lips as he digs his arms closer against his chest.

"I must say, this is quite the surprise, Lucifer," she says while standing straight. "I have never even thought of the day you would become attached to a human, especially to a non-magi."

"You're mistaken," he says immediately, defensively. "I am merely following Lord Diavolo's orders by taking care of our human exchange student."

"By calling me?"

"Are you not a human world physician?" He snaps, glaring at her. "Agnodice, I did not summon you to the Devildom to pique your opinion. I am merely doing my job and, frankly, you should be doing yours."

"It's the common flu, Lucifer. It's no pressing need to go through the trouble of summoning me." She smirks then opens her palm silencing the demon as a soft and sparkling white light dances around her hand, a pack of medicines and a neat scroll conjures on top of it.

"She's fine, Lucifer," she says kindly. "It was probably brought upon the upcoming winter winds here in the Devildom. It's quite extreme compared to the ones back in the human world. Assure that she has proper winter attire and that she takes her medicine every six hours after a meal."

"Thank you, Agnodice," Lucifer takes the medicine and examines the scroll carefully. "You may leave."

Agnodice holds back a smile at the sight. Thank you, huh? To the unsuspecting eye, Lucifer remained collected and haughty, an image only befitting of the responsible and mighty Avatar of Pride. But she lived long enough to recognize the telling concern that softened his hardened eyes. The witch turns on her heel and exits the bedroom, pausing as to hear you moan from the other side.

"Lucifer?" You croak, pushing your body up weakly. Lucifer frowns and takes a seat beside you, holding onto your frail arms.

"Don't strain yourself," he coos. "Get more rest. I'll wake you when there's food."

"I'm not hungry," you whisper, resigning as he gently lays you back on the bed. "I feel cold."

Lucifer tucks the comforter closer to your neck, his fingers skimming against the skin of your jaw gently. "I shall fetch you more blankets then," he stands but you immediately catch his wrist, your hand faltering almost immediately at the sudden strain of energy. Lucifer sits once more, taking your hand in his and caressing it gently with his thumb.

"Such a troublesome human," he whispers and you laugh throatily. His words were harsh, but Agnodice notes the apparent gentleness of his voice and quietly flushes her body closer to the door, listening intently.

"You find it endearing."

"What is it that you want?"

"Sleep with me," you say and catch Lucifer off guard, his eyes widened by surprise. You let out another throaty laugh, "Not like that, silly. I meant, sleep beside me. It will make me feel better, plus, the sleep will do you good. I know you're a report away from fatigue."

"Demons do not get fatigued," Lucifer states a matter-of-factly, slipping his hands underneath your back and legs before lifting you in one smooth ascend. "Are you failing Basic Demonology?"

"Hmm," you shift closer against Lucifer's chest, sighing at the intimate sound of his heartbeat. "I don't think so. Either way, you do need the rest."

"I don't need to rest. But," Lucifer leans close to your forehead and presses a chaste kiss on top, keeping still and letting his lips brush against your skin as he spoke. "I must take care of what's mine, so I shall sleep beside you. Come, my bed is much bigger."

Oh Lucifer, Agnodice smiles as she quietly pushes herself off from the door, walking briskly out of the hall, you've mellowed.

Satan

There's a faint glow from your bedside table as you wake from your sleep. You groan and shift from underneath the neatly tucked comforter on top of you, hearing a soft "oh" from beside you as you do. Satan lowers his book and flashes a gentle smile when you meet his eyes. He stands from his chair and takes one stride to your bed, sitting beside a space near your legs.

"Hey," he says softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," you croon. Satan catches the way you weakly push yourself up and moves closer, helping you by your shoulders to sit up. When you're comfortably seated, he slowly pulls his hands away, skimming his cool fingers against your hot arms as he does so.  

"Thank you," you whisper, weakly taking his hand in yours before he could pull away. He smiles and holds it endearingly, his thumb grazing against your knuckles. 

"Anytime," he says with a genuine smile. "Are you hungry?"

"I am," you nod. "What's for dinner?"

"We had Quetzalcoatl brain stew. But," Satan hesitantly pulls his hand away and stands, walking to the bedside table to pick up a tray. "I thought you might want something else."

Satan carefully places the tray on your lap and you feel your heart swell at the sight - a small vase of flowers that looked like the Devildom's counterpart of the Peony, a tall glass of water with lemon, small chocolate candies, a book, and a small clay pot.

"Don't - don't get ahead of yourself," he stammers and you look up to see faint pink tinting his cheeks. "It's my first time cooking this, so I don't know if it's your liking." 

He takes the lid off and you smile at the sight and smell that dances in your nose.

"Is this chicken noodle soup?" you ask, your smile spreading farther on your cheeks. Satan nods and clears his throat.

"I read that this was the best human dish to serve when one is sick."

"It is," you reach for the spoon but hesitate when Satan shuffled anxiously. 

"There are so many variations to the recipe, but if we're talking about the key ingredients, Devildom cuisine has a counterpart - "

His insistent warnings grew faster but went nowhere as you leaned in and took a spoonful, making sure to blow it a little before taking a sip. Satan pursues his lips as he watches you taste it.

"It's good," you say a few seconds later and giggle as to see the evident relief wash over his face.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Please be a bit more constructive," he says seriously. You let out a throaty laugh and nod once before taking another sip, letting the soup stay on your tongue longer.

"It's a little bland," you say slowly, unsure of what to say - it really did taste good. "But, I think that's a good thing. I am sick, so my senses are a bit muted. If it were any saltier, it probably wouldn't be good for me either."

"Alright then," Satan rubs his chin before nodding contently, a small smirk curving his lips. "Don't lie to me now. If you are, you're giving me false confidence in trying to cook more human world dishes for you."

"I'm not," you giggle softly. "So you better stay true to your word and cook more. How did you get these ingredients anyways?"

"I had help from a few friends," he says, a glint in his eyes. "In fact, human world ingredients aren't as scarce as you may think they are here in the Devildom - a few cafes and restaurants serve human world cuisine as appetizers since many demons enjoy them. But compared to Devildom, Celestial, and, well - a human's soul itself - your dishes are almost immediately digested and we easily get hungry after that."

"I see," you smile, always enjoying the way Satan elaborates on topics. "You should take me to some of these places."

"Get better first," he says firmly but sweetly. Satan moves closer, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you lean for another spoonful of soup. "Do you need anything else?"

"I was hoping you'd say that," you smile and reach for the book on the tray, weakly waving it in front of him. "Read to me?" 

"Of course," Satan smiles and transfers to your side, lifting the tray with ease as you move to give him space. He places the tray on both of your laps and sits right against the bed.

"Now then," he whispers and presses a brief and chaste kiss on your temple while opening the book to its first page. "Let us begin."

Beelzebub

Beelzebub loosens his tight arms around you as you shift awake, visible discomfort etched on your face. The large demon frowns and reluctantly lays his arms down as you wiggle out of the comforter wrapped tightly around you. When you open your eyes, your face softens and all discomfort from the heat fades away.

"Beel?" you call, genuinely confused at the sight of him beside you. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers apologetically. "I know I shouldn't have, but you started shivering so I..." Beelzebub trails sheepishly as he starts to move aside. However, you catch his arm and weakly pull him back close to no hesitation.

"No," you croak. "I was just surprised to see you beside me, that's all. Don't leave."

Beelzebub smiles sweetly and carefully wraps his arms around you in another tight hug, leaving the comforter to the side this time. His eyes are a mixture of adoration and worry as he wipes off the sweat accumulated on your forehead and nose.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, pushing back a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I made porridge." 

"Yes, but," you frown and Beel tilts his head. "I don't want to leave this position yet. I've never felt so safe and warm."

Beelzebub flashes another sweet smile and caresses your cheek with the back of his hand - briefly yet endearingly - before lifting it in the air afterward. You watch as a soft and sparkling orange glow dance around his hand, a small "woah" escaping your lips in awe. A few seconds later, you hear a small rattle by your dresser and turn your head, watching as a bowl and spoon, both wrapped in the same orange glow, fly from the drawer towards the bed.

"Sometimes I forget you all are demons with magical powers," you whisper. "Especially you, you've never done anything flashy like this before."

"Lucifer banned me from using magic whenever I wanted something to eat," he says, a chuckle escaping his lips. "But I think he'll allow this time since I'm not the one eating."

Beel sits up then gently cradles you against his chest. Another sweet smile draws on his lips as he looks down at you - small and cute against his large chest - and hugs you tightly. However, before you could react, Beelzebub slowly drops his arms to the side, frowning as he suddenly remembers that you were a fragile human, in the process of recovering, and he was a large demon with massive strength.

"You're so small and too cute," he frowns and takes the floating spoon. "Please eat and get better soon."

"Don't worry, Beel. You saw me sweating, right? That means I'm getting a lot better," you say kindly and take the spoonful of soup from his hand. "Please keep hugging me. I'll tell you if it's too tight or too hot, okay?"

It takes a few seconds but Beel nods and hugs you once again, watching you eat with a gentle focus.

"Do you want some?" you ask and on cue, you hear a loud grumble from Beel's stomach. The large demon blushes shyly but shakes his head nonetheless. 

"I'll eat after you," he says solemnly and blushes a faint pink a few seconds later when another grumble erupts.

"Here," you offer him a spoonful to which he takes after a moment of hesitation. "When was the last time you ate anyways?"

"Twelve hours ago," he mumbles with a frown and gently takes the spoon from your hand. "You're really amazing..."

"What do you mean?" 

"Even when you're sick, you're still taking care of me..." 

"I don't think it's as amazing as you may think it is," you whisper, feeling your cheeks grow warmer despite your recovery. "I know you'd do the same for me, Beel. Besides, I don't think I can finish this."

"What?" Concern washes over the awe in Beel's face. "But you said you were getting better..."

"I am!" you say quickly and cup his face, caressing his cheeks assuringly. "I am. It's just when we humans get sick, we lose our usual appetite."

"You already don't eat much in the first place..." he whispers. "Are you sure you're full? Please don't worry about me, we demons don't get sick."

"I promise," you drop your hands and lean forward to kiss his cheek sweetly. When you pull away, Beel touches his cheek absent-mindedly, the worry melting into shy happiness. "Please help yourself. I don't want your food to go to waste."

"Alright," Beel nods. You watch him reach for the small bowl and inhale the porridge in one gulp, chuckling at the sight - did you really expect less from the Avatar of Gluttony himself? He lifts his free hand, the same orange glow wraps around it, and a glass of water and small packet of medicine fly towards you.

"Please drink your medicine and water then," he says after wiping his mouth. "Lucifer said you should drink it immediately after eating."

"You should go and eat more," you say while complying, placing the tablet on your tongue before pushing it down with water. Beel swipes his hand - the floating objects flying back on top of the dresser - then carefully wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace.

"You said you didn't want to leave this position," he whispers and presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. "So, I'm not leaving."

"But you're hungry," you frown but shift closer against his chest.

"I am, but," Beel wraps his arms tighter around your body and rests his face against the mop of your hair, inhaling your scent - I'd rather know you're healthy. "Food tastes better when you're around. So, get rest, okay?"

You smile and flutter your eyes close, "Okay."

If you enjoyed, please leave a comment or like... or follow... quq

[sugar-petals]

SuperM as Subs

↪ A/N. UGH these guys have me fucking spiraling. very excited to bring you this, please indulge 👀

○ warnings ⚠️ 18+, dom/sub, kinks galore, gender-neutral dom!reader

3.5k words | bullet points | this is all over the place there is so much to say i—

⌈ ten

— motto: kitten has ‘ten’ in it, but so does intense.

wowza honey

best choke out you’ll find

the stamina, too, oh lord. ten can handle a lightning fast riding without blowing up in two minutes

all while you choke him

with a waist harness on and ankles bound

bondage looks so good on him; he’s flexible and enduring. imagine a hogtie... art. 

such a beautiful man.

literally, rope marks, imagine that

we need to talk about his pain threshold as well there

things that have other guys screaming are a mere tickle to him

i can’t emphasize enough how lucky you’ll be. this fella does not have to be trained much. experience? abundant. talent? more than vast. he knows precisely how far he can go with what kind of kink. that is invaluable.

and now, the most mind-blowing part. stress: he encourages you to take it all out on him. in his mind, that’s an extra treat and a promise he gets it raw how he loves it. 

your satisfaction is his fuel, as is seeing you unwind. 

the whole progression from heavy beginnings to breathless ends

the boy needs you to go, for the lack of a better word, buck-wild

so yes, ten is your number one (pun intended) address for all things messy. he asks you to hatefuck him, you spoil him with it.

the sheer masochism of him

are you kidding me

listen i’m not a fan of the sin concept but in this case... you can sin all you want with him

tl;dr: angry sex is his thing. strong emotions. guts will be rearranged.

about the elephant in the room: yeah, this guy can bust some extraterrestrial, dazzling, sexy as hell moves

that means one thing. contortionism. you can bend him into every position you desire and fuck him like that. he’s petite but don’t worry. your babe’s strong

in fact, you can sit on his face and get one ferocious rimming daily

things will get wet wetter wettest

surprise surprise vice versa he likes his own ass filled with plugs and vibrators

the type that buzzes him into a delirium while you slap him. with his neck turning red and those pretty almond eyes going wide. 

they do hold the universe. he’s just so enthralling.

btw. talking about toys. having a fleshlight ready to make him moan and ruin his orgasm is a veeery good idea.

chances are you will draw cute english or thai interjections from him

in return, you can call him your prince and kiss him all over for aftercare. he’s no different, thinking of you as someone figuratively and literally noble to him. he’s thankful you fulfill his greatest sexual dreams. it’s true, you’ll really worship each other.

he’ll do his little mona lisa smile and doze off in your lap...

sub!ten is just priceless okay

10/10

i need a moment

⌈ kai

— motto: local strip club found bankrupt.

oh mY GOD nini

he knows how it’s done

did he go to sub school or something

you’ll find him at the stove around 6:30 AM in his apron

making you breakfast pretty much butt naked otherwise

flustered and sexy butler kim right at your service

looking very sculpted

dancing a little, as usual, he’s getting into it

in other words, you’re sure to get those eggs fried well

now, besides his skimpy clothing and waiter allure

kai as a submissive is almost definite to be an epitome of organization. he’s just good at it. period. lube and protection are always in the house.

you do your part doing maintenance for toys and cracking the occasional whip but really i mean... as the great oh sehun once said... never don’t mind about a thing when jongin gets the chance to put something in order

so lean back — kai is a service sub. he’s the type who wants to break a sweat for you

and have that very visible because he doesn’t own clothes anyway. well, well.

something more about organization

fucking according to a schedule sounds about right

you have it all planned out with a special calendar book just for that purpose

but don’t believe he’ll be boring and hyper-structured beyond that

kai is the precise opposite of dull as a lover but that’s a huge duh

he has both the acute sense of bashful romance and strong erotic feelings that come with a regular eyebrow wiggle

he likes to provoke the wild animal in his partner

reckless abandon

kai is 100% guaranteed to make you let out the beast. he enjoys feeling you go all out and grip him, pin him. everything hands-on is good.

grinding and gyrating is always part of sex. hell, even floating and flying. fuck gravity.

you need a certain level of dexterity. and hey if you don’t, you will pick it up from him in a solid minute

what i’m trying to say is that it won’t happen that the two of you rub against each other in the sheets like two blocks of wood (even when going into aftercare!). it will be fluid, ever-moving, energetic right and left with the mattress creaking all over the damn place

sex with jongin is one thing for sure: fucking fast. he won’t mess up his tempo if you know what i mean. the two of you will be thrusting and moaning until complete fatigue sets in

he whines a lot i’m telling you

it’s the surefire way to know kai is into it, being genuinely vocal is one of his best qualities as a sub

besides handling any rough pace 

this guy will have you sneaking into his gym room and have a quickie on the next best workout bench

and lord knows what else. 

the bathroom is another destination. wet!kai, the yearning romeo, is an image you won’t forget

prepare to get your hands on all of that

he’s gonna melt right into ya

and that is sub!kai for you

⌈ taeyong

— motto: vanilla? hardly heard of her.

to use an nct pun: the options are— limitless.

and another: you’re signed up for a... long flight.

and you’re gonna be the: boss

who gives it to him

and i’m warning you

he’s shy about it but

taeyong is simply insatiable. take his kinky reputation at face value.

what doesn’t he do

the softest softcore (feathers to tease him) to the hardest hardcore (edge play, hallelujah), the whole spectrum without any efforts for transitions

so you guessed it, a normal bedroom really won’t do.

neither does a standard dom

but since you’re knee deep into taeyong — go figure, you’re reading this — news flash you likely aren’t one

plug in all of your toys and cameras for date night. he needs his good dose of lube-dripping fantasy, homemade with a bunch of latex thrown into the mix

yeah i know that will escalate quickly

he wears it well i’m telling you

and also greatly enjoys you donning it for friday evening

it will frustrate him to the max which is a sight to see indeed

no other sub in super m gets harder boners over latex. that’s how it is. he’s just so drawn to the material and how much authority it gives you in particular

noona/oppa kink incarnate

hell, even daddy/mommy

he calls you that when you are forehead to forehead and catching your breath

because man these orgasms are going to get you so high, bodies gently intertwined

and very, very drenched

not just skin-wise

so let me underline this

your dear taeyong, no matter how innocently he can blink at you, gets his daily nutrient intake from cum. 

what fancy-schmancy protein shake is he interested in other than yours like literally none

put him on a leash together with baekhyun and you have two salivating, ultra dirty boys

so ready to please and swallow everything up

taeyong is a handsome handful

you’ll be horny 24/7

or 23/7 maybe because aftercare

where we revert back to adorable yong. he clings to you a lot, you nuzzle him all the time, the affection is off the charts

he’s pouty and sweet, smiling to himself

holding him tight gives him a big sense of security. 

safe to say he wants everybody to know he belongs to you in terms of PDA, too

it’s not restricted to domestic intimacy and sexual aftermath

taeyong truly has the perfect ratio of freaky and soft

god worked hard on him

⌈ lucas

— motto: when bigger is better, things get wetter...

ready for take off are we 

yukhei is one flirty crackhead you’ll love it

teasing will go back and forth

there might even be play fights and wrestling involved. messing around on sofas and carpets, you know the deal. things won’t get too rowdy, he’s being his 6′ baby self and you don’t want to use your whole bag of tricks yet vice versa

lucas eventually lets you win anyways

and acts like he’s lethally injured ffs

he’s an aquarius don’t come for him they roll that way

in comes the patient-doctor roleplay. yep that’s how the story goes

and you sure as hell get to take care of um

luke’s big lightsaber

alright

it’s throbbing a bit too much and needs medicine

so think of yourself as a jedi master training your disciple.

read: edging the living soul out of him. 

rough handjobs are just perfect

as is going on a rodeo trip getting the guy to tame those bucking hips with a lil punishment here and there. and with punishment i mean tickling even when he is close to orgasm

uh-oh

wong yukhei is a cutie pie but he has just about a bucket of cum for you spilling all over the place

he might get a lil embarrassed about it, that’s the sweetest thing

cleaning it up will be his greatest pleasure

so

ready for subby lucas yet?

he’s juicy

so what else do we have... 

(besides that he sounds like harry styles is dubbing him and that voice is going to turn you on so hard)

if his dominant doesn’t have an ounce of a muscle and biting kink that’s, how to put it, a missed opportunity

just licking him and leaving marks everywhere just has to be the biggest feast in history. you have him parade around sleeveless just to see the hickeys on his arms. 

and you don’t have to be frugal. it has to scream mine mine mine. yes, xuxi has some arm sensitivity going on. he needs your mouth on him doing chaotic stuff that leaves his jaw hanging open. to the point of you eating your brunch off his chest and shoulders.

there i said it 

breakfast with yukhei is cancelled. it’s breakfast on yukhei

as for positions: things are usually more chill and standard. just how much missionary will there be, you’ll lose count. he’s good at it. lucas has the condensed passion of ten people, it will be more arousing than you’d think. it’s also a good pause to your usual activities, you both get a chance to um take a breath

if he feels cocky, wong brathei likes to lift you up during sex and here we go again with a staring contest... which ends with a bright smile and kissing 

what did you expect

always remember this one thing. in his big himbo brain only one thought floats around and that. is. his. love. for. you.

a whipped boy

he’s irreplaceable.

patient xuxi reports speedy recovery

⌈ mark

— motto: good boys go to heaven after debuting a couple times more

sirs and sirettes, mark lee.

what did you think the “m” in super m stands for? mario, man, massive, market, model?

nope

SuperMark is what keeps the planet spinning

now here it goes

let’s get one assumption out of the way first

you’d think he fucks how he talks but you’ll be surprised

everything’s slow slow slow

the pace is very casual for someone who raps and thinks that fast

mark is just too friggin’ cute

a blushy cupcake

innocent and always curious what you’re up to

just perfect for all sorts of gentle dominance

you can reassure him when he gets nervous which happens every now and then

and put him into soft sweaters and blankets when he feels cold

maybe even building a pillow fort and just caressing him ad nauseam literally for minutes on end.

tousling his hair would be adorable beyond belief

the same goes for giving him cheesy pet names

or feeding him sweets

you can bet chocolate is his favorite. 

but it’s not just all about pampering him

keen how he is you can expect a lot of gestures of attention from mark, like carefully selected presents and foot massages

there’s a real gentleman at your hands.

a gentlemark

he might have come up with that himself 

you bet there will be lots of humor involved mark just can’t do serious sex

his intellect is yeahhh... superhuman

as much as his heart is squishy for you.

it’s hard out there. this world is tough

but mark is a safe haven to return to and have wholesome hours in bed with

30% sex, 70% aftercare.

you think that’s impossible? look into his puppy eyes and tell me all you’ll do won’t be spooning

it’s an art form and mark is just too inviting not to do a brush stroke on the canvas. 

and after you’re done spooning things are back to more caressing

a smooch left, a smooch right

for the 30% he might need a bit of outside support because his inner perfectionist compels him

so he’ll text johnny at 4:30 in the morning with urgent questions

because his mind is racing and he promised to wake you up with a set of spicy stuff

sex veteran johnny will calmly explain it to mark but also keep it short and simple

because man how early can someone text you 

and mark appreciates a crisp how-to that he won’t forget

even when you are chest to chest feeling each other’s breath and his brain almost shuts down

at the end of the day...

you say hey canada lemme get my hands on those big thighs of yours and ding ding his pants are off. he responds so easily to guidance

and his dancing skill always helps to get groovy with you

so

bust down markiana

you’re that bitch and you know it

⌈ baekhyun

— motto: you and me, relax and ch...oking

leader on the streets 

screamer in the sheets

even the most peace-loving, noise-sensitive neighbors are going to dig the things that come out of his mouth as caused by you

just how good are his lungs

imagine him making audios for you. yes, god is real.

you just hit the lotto

the things his mouth can do 

byun baekhyun is a synonym of oral fixation when will merriam webster admit it

if there’s one person in super m who can nail the picture perfect drooling ahegao face without hesitation it’s him

he will pleasure you with his tongue so vigorously

that level of spit blowing will haunt you

and the slurpi—

THE NOISES. we can’t talk about the noises. nope, nope. the noises are not meant to be described to this world. 

you’ll suffer from incurable lust once you picture it

you know what his voice can cause

that would trigger a mass hysteria

anyway. moving on. 

baeks is the type to appreciate a mix of cheek-on-cheek cuddling and getting his brains banged out

you can toss him around, grab him by the hair, fuck him absolutely stupid

while also kissing his forehead and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. as if he doesn’t want you enough already this will have baekhyun needy for so long

he’s the king of slutty behavior

and making both of you crack up with mid-sex jokes about who knows what, suho’s butt mole or something

he’s just too hilarious. on the other hand he likes being creative and concentrated

in his free time you’ll probably find him reading erotic stories, sketching sexy stuff (i.e., well, you) in a journal, or even a manual to the kamasutra. it gets him all hot and bothered to the point where he can’t stop being chatty about it.

baekhyun’s arousal always first manifests as a wave of words or texts 

your part of the equation is distilling the essence of said texts and getting to work on that perky body of his

and praise him plenty. baekhyun loves a lot of verbal affirmations and you’re glad to shower him with it.

kink-wise: he really has a gazillion ideas to try

costumes, gags, whips, pet play, sounding, collars, semi-clothed sex, cock rings, suspensions, you name it

as the cherry on top, a three- and fourway could be part of your routine for sure. 

that being said he might have a few dicks in him physically or mechanically because geez bacon loves fucking machines and dildos

he is 100% ready to embark on one hell of an anal odyssey

how much he can stretch out you can probably guess. and he’ll make jokes about it either way to turn you on

you’ll be certain to exhaust and stuff your lil’ darling to the brim but i’m telling you what you already know

he’s gonna be the happiest ahegao boy in the world

and throw peace signs when you take pictures of him fucked out

that’s byunbaek for you. one of a kind

a subby gem

⌈ taemin

— motto: 500 points to slytherin! 

this is what you’ve been waiting for i know I KNOW

red carpets out for the sensual sub king and nation’s p.r.e.t.t.y. boy

the international bombshell blonde

a bdsm luminary

DEITY

now, listen. 

some erotic feats are truly hard to execute

but there is always one guy who’s the exception 

and his name is lee taemin

no matter how unrealistic or complex your imagination of sex with him is

with this man, most of it can become real

effortlessly

because he’s a) an open-minded lover b) rich enough to rent ten dungeons — per hour and c) closest to perfection we as a human race have ever come 

taemin is a pro at bringing all kinds of your and his fantasies to life. that’s why it’s important that you sit down to talk about how your intimate encounters could look like every other week

primarily, as far as his taste is concerned

we’ve all heard about his tales of creepypasta romance

literally he’s been an idol for so long and still comes up with new baffling ideal type stories

so according to those

he wants to be run over by you and thinks that’s hot,,, but i say... we stick to flipping him over... like on a bed,,, no car involved

this pal is macabre you have to be an embodiment of the law to rein him in

police roleplay much. arrest this provocateur!

furthermore and on a lighter note

besides being jailed

lo and behold, chained up and decked out in lace, draped on a lip-shaped art sofa is how he feels the most in his element

add a mask and a corset 

just how glamorous is he

this guy has mastered all techniques of drawing you in with the most elaborate seduction. 

tremendous!

including dance: for your eyes only. 

prepare to have your loins set on fire.

because within the 4 walls of your home his every move will be pure danger loaded with sexuality. it would be even more of a public menace than he already is when performed in front of a crowd

keep those handcuffs ready officer

because it is your mission to stop that guy 

the more restraints the better

put five harnesses on him i don’t care as long as it contains him

and once that’s done

taemin likes to be stimulated and teased with you running silk fabric all over his body

he also enjoys you creating artistic pin-up-esque photography of him

with sultry eyes and puckered lips

and no worries. taemin will put his plump lips to good use elsewhere, too. all. over. the. place. servicing his dominant is an honor.

and those moans will be like a melody.

the literal only weak spot he has

is to kiss and tell. taemin gets carried away in conversation and feels pride when the topic switches to you. so... if you lick his earlobe and call him your slave, jongin knows the very next day and finds it very entertaining. 

taemin won’t deliberately spill the beans in a group chat but one-on-one with a close friend? he’s too excited not to talk about your chemistry and lets some juicy details slip if he can’t control himself.

taemin requires a dom/me who’s definitely not insecure and wants others to know who’s boss.

on the flipside, if you enjoy voyeurism? he is your man. it’s a matter of perspective entirely.

so to speak — even his weakness is a strength.

that’s all you need to understand about him

in sum: you got yourself quite an ace 

taem will press your number and you’ll have no sorrow in the world.

we truly are blessed by his existence

peace out

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2019. all rights reserved. do not repost.

[desperationandgin]

The Beat My Heart Skips (Market Price One-Shot)

Rating: General Audiences

Also Read On: Ao3

Summary: Jamie attempts to surprise his pregnant wife with the foods she craves.

A/N: From a prompt @smashing-teacups​ sent me like 8 months ago! This is also my dear BFF’s very BELATED birthday fic. ilu so much <3

I adjusted a little but I hope the spirit of the prompt lives on!

The Beat My Heart Skips

++

The texts from Claire had started at two in the afternoon while he was at Lallybroch, deep in planning the next few weekends’ worth of farmer’s market details.

Burgers for dinner? 😘

He’d replied he would pick them up from her newly-declared favorite place for burgers, and promised chips to go along with them. A half-hour later, the next message arrived.

thinking more about the pork rolls we had the other night.

He’d replied:

Instead of the burgers?

Think so. Sorry. Baby’s picky  🤷‍♀️

It made him smile, swiping to the home screen only to see the latest in his growing collection of photos featuring Claire’s belly. The bump was only clearly visible when she was unclothed, but it was there, a swelling proof of life, and he’d found he could stare, stroke, and murmur to that growing roundness for hours on end. He’d finally responded with a quick dinna fash and assumed that would be the end of it.

He was wrong. The next messages had come in rapid succession, mildly alarming until he could read them.

I think pizza would be better

Remember the burritos we had at Mazama?

Jamie, I don’t know what your child wants…

Kebabs??

Would you like to contribute an idea?

Thumb hovering over the phone, he’d tried to decide if he should pick one thing from her list, or offer something completely different. He’d decided, in the end, to go with a solid favorite.

Thai noodles, Sassenach?

The three telltale bubbles had appeared, then dropped, then appeared again before another text came through from his wife.

That sounds good too.

It was the ‘too’ that convinced him of what needed to be done.

You only need to be prepared with an appetite when I’m home. 5p. No later.

Now, he’s sitting in the passenger seat of his sister’s mini-van while Jenny drives.

“How many places is it, total?” she asks, glancing over.

Scrolling on his phone, he counts aloud. “Six. No, seven. I need more ice cream.”

“Alright, weel, we have to be strategic about it. Ice cream last, obviously. Then I’ll just drop ye back at yours and both of ye can come over tomorrow for Sunday supper. We’ll finish the plannin’ then, ye get your car, all done.”

Jamie looks over at his sister, impressed. “Thought it all out, have ye?”

“If you take a pregnant woman hot, fresh food that’s been left to steam in its containers only tae go soft and damp, she’ll throw it at yer heid. Trust me.”

He snorts. “Should I ask Ian?”

“He’ll no’ bring me soggy chips again, I’ll tell ye that much.” Jenny pats her own very round belly. “Learned wi’ the last bairn.”

Suitably impressed (and making mental notes he never knew he needed), they make a plan beginning with pizza and ending with a very quick stop inside a corner shop for two containers of Neapolitan. By 4:45, Jamie’s outside of his home, hands loaded with takeout bags. Leaning down into the open car window, he holds up his bounty.

“Thank ye, truly. I owe ye, Jen.”

She waves him off. “Ye’ll babysit soon enough.” Her face softens, though, and she meets his gaze. “Da would be proud. Mam, too.”

Lowering his head, Jamie swallows, but when he looks up again, there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I always hope, but hearing it from you, especially, is important.”

“Why me?” she asks as he steps back.

“On account of ye bein’ the wee ball-buster in the family,” he teases fondly, thanking her again before watching her drive safely away. Juggling bags and keys, Jamie lets himself into the house, calling out.

“Sassenach?”

“In here,” she calls from the living room, and he ducks into the kitchen.

“Stay there, I have a surprise for ye. And dinnae try to peek, ye’re no’ verra sneaky anyway,” he says in return. As he sets everything up along their counter, buffet style, he can hear her moving about.

“I assume this surprise is in regards to food,” she deducts.

“Always kent ye should ha’ been a detective,” Jamie smirks, able to hear her huff from the other room. “I’m almost done, ye can bide a second longer.”

“One,” she says pointedly. “Your child is starving.”

“I’ve noticed ye tend to refer to the bairn only as mine when ye cannae make your mind up about something.”

Her voice is closer when she speaks. “That’s because you’re stubborn,” Claire retorts, standing directly out of sight.

“Oh, am I the only one?” he asks as he finishes by propping the pizza open. “I always thought ye were a relatively patient woman, Sassenach, until I got ye wi’ child.”

“I am bloody patient! It’s the only reason I haven’t stepped foot into the kitchen to throttle you yet.”

He can’t help but laugh silently for a moment, drawing it out a few seconds longer before finally poking his head around the corner only to come face to face with her. “Alright, a nighean. Ye can come in.” Stepping aside, he watches as she enters, taking in the sight of her realizing what she’s seeing.

“I figured we could make a good go of it, and now we have plenty for tomorrow,” Jamie explains.

Claire stares at the bounty in front of her in stunned silence before looking up at her husband. “You went to all of these places?”

“Aye. Well, me and Jen. Ian was home and she was desperate to get out of the house for a bit anyway. So she drove me around, and now you and the bairn have whatever ye’d like. Including more ice cream.”

Too moved for a moment to say anything, she simply blinks at Jamie, afraid to open her mouth because she’s sure she’ll cry.

A good thing, then, that he knows to step forward, reaching out to rest his hands at her hips. “I wanted ye to have whatever you wanted, Sassenach.”

That does it: the flood gates open (because hell if she has any control over her hormones anymore) and she finds herself cradled to his chest. “I cannot believe you,” she mumbles into his shirt affectionately, arms looping around his waist.

“I do try to keep ye guessin’,” he murmurs into her hair, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

“Do you also plan on helping me eat all of this?” She pulls back after placing a soft kiss to his chest before getting a plate and trying to decide what to attack first.

“Oh, aye, I’ll be eating plenty. I’ve been eying a burrito since we picked them up,” he promises, having no intention of letting his wife eat alone. Pointing out the different varieties as she picks and chooses, he loads a plate for himself and takes it to the living room, settling with her leaning against the arm of the sofa sideways, legs across his lap.

Bringing a forkful of noodles to her mouth, she pauses to look at him. “Thank you, Jamie. For indulging me.”

Balancing his plate with one hand, the other squeezes her calf. “I figured if ye’re going through all the trouble of making a person, Sassenach, the least I can do is feed ye what ye want.”

When she smiles, it’s as though his entire soul flares with warmth, and it’s difficult to take his eyes from her.

Which is why he sees it the instant all color drains from her face. What happens next requires zero communication as she sits up, he takes her plate, and her legs swing from his lap. Within thirty seconds, she’s in their bathroom bending over the toilet, vomiting. Wincing in sympathy, Jamie simply stares for a moment at the two plates full of uneaten supper in his hands.

Putting the dishes on the coffee table, he rises and makes his way to the bathroom to join her, reaching out to hold her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry, a nighean.” Jamie’s always very aware that he’s the one who did this to her anytime she’s miserable, and it makes him regret being quite so boastful about it.

When her stomach finally calms, he stands with her and leans against the doorframe as she rinses with the mouthwash that is now a permanent fixture on the countertop instead of tucked away in the medicine cabinet.

And then he watches as she begins to cry, confusion making his forehead furrow, wondering what this new mood swing is and how to handle it. Reaching out for her, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her in an attempt to soothe as he rubs her back. “Dinna weep, lass,” he murmurs, more concerned as she clings to him tightly.

“Fuck, Jamie,” she manages, sniffling when she finally pulls back, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand.

“Likely no’ right now,” he tries to tease gently as he lifts a hand to stroke her cheek.

She doesn’t even react, simply chooses to ignore him and move on even as tears brim on her lashline. “I can’t eat any of that food right now.”

“I realized it soon as ye got up from the couch,” he points out, kissing her forehead.

“But you went to...Christ, how many places was it?” she asks as new guilt washes over her in an irrational wave. “And Jenny was with you,” she laments.

He doesn’t know how to fix this, exactly, and so he simply guides her by the hand to their bedroom to avoid the smell of various foods in the front of the house.

“Mo nighean donn, why would Jenny be put out? She’s been pregnant a dozen times, she kens how it goes,” Jamie points out gently.

“It was so thoughtful of you. I wanted to be able to enjoy your effort,” Claire admits as his arms encircle her.

“Ye still can when ye feel like eating. All of it will still be there, Sassenach. Doesna matter if we eat it this evening or tomorrow.”

“You aren’t annoyed?” she asks, knowing the answer but needing to hear it.

“Only at yer hormones, but no’ at you,” he promises with a kiss to her knuckles, over her wedding ring.

“Well, I’m annoyed at my hormones too,” Claire exhales, recovered now from the bout of tears but not the nausea as she lies down on the bed properly. “When your aunt called, she said being sick all the time is the sign of a boy.”

“Should ask Jen, she might have some light to shed on it, havin’ had both,” Jamie suggests as he lays propped on his side and pushes his hand under her shirt to lightly stroke her stomach.

Closing her eyes, she concentrates on the feel of his touch rather than the vertigo. “Do you want to find out what we’re having, or let it be a surprise?”

His fingers still for a moment before continuing as he ponders her question. “I never considered it. Does it matter to ye, for decorating and buying things?”

“Not particularly. There aren’t very many things that can truly be left a surprise in life.” She can’t help smiling at the idea of it, of not knowing until their child is in their arms.

The look on her face makes it clear her mind is set, and Jamie drops a kiss to her abdomen. “We’ll leave it a mystery then, Sassenach.”

“We’ll have to pick a name for either scenario,” she points out, taking deep breaths in and exhaling slowly as she wills away her symptoms. When Jamie doesn’t respond right away, she cracks one eye open only to find him lost in thought. A hand lands in his hair, gently scratching his scalp. “Where’d you go?”

He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. “I’m here,” he promises with another kiss. “I was only thinking...if it’d be alright wi’ ye...we could name the bairn after my da.” When he chances a glance up at her, his eyes are suspiciously damp.

If ever there is a key to getting her nausea to dissipate, it’s the sight of her husband’s vulnerability. Her hand shifts from his hair down his face to cradle his cheek. “Brian,” she murmurs, nodding her agreement. “And if it’s a girl?”

He’s quiet, ghosting his lips across her skin now, trying to will her hormones to settle for a while.

“Hmm. Weel, there’s always, simply, Brianna,” Jamie suggests.

Claire tries it on her tongue, adding a second name. “Brianna Ellen Fraser. Or Brian Henry Fraser. What do you think?”

Scooting up on the bed now, he pulls his wife close, needing to kiss her ring again, to say a silent prayer for the love of this woman. “That ye’d honor my parents that way, Claire-” It makes him more emotional than he would have ever imagined, the way his wife’s heart shows itself.

“I thought, since we’re having - what was it, ten by your last count? - since we’re having ten children, the second could be named after my parents,” she suggests, knowing it will happen now that she’s said it.

“It’ll no’ be ten if ye feel like this every time,” he says with equal parts concern and frustration that his wife simply can’t eat when she’d like.

“Jamie,” she murmurs, gliding her thumb across his jaw. “This amount of illness is normal. And it’s getting somewhat better. Today was unfortunate,” she allows, a hint of apology in her tone.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” he assures her as he sits up, leaning down to drop a kiss to her forehead before finally standing. “Now we have plenty for breakfast and lunch. If ye dinna mind noodles before ten in the morning.”

She chuckles, the waves of nausea somewhat less turbulent. “If my stomach can manage, then so will I.” But she already knows the noodles will never make it to morning. She’ll be awake at three in the morning, eating when her hunger finally kicks in.

“I’ll go and put everything away, then we’ll see if ye’ll do wi’ a bit of light reading,” he offers. He’ll also quickly eat while he isn’t in front of her.

“Reading in bed?”

“Aye, I’ll no’ make ye move,” he promises, reaching out to cradle her cheek before stepping back.

“Then you’ll know where to find me when you return,” she says lightly with a small, fond smile.

“Which is exactly where I want ye to be, incidentally.”

She chuckles, waving playfully at him to go. “I’m looking forward to reading your next pick.”

Before he can make it out of the room, she calls him back.

“Aye?”

She takes a moment to look him over, still in his jeans and button-down from the day, curls askew and his scruff just past its normal length.

“I’m very madly in love with you, you know.”

When he smiles he ducks his head, and the way his ears turn bright red makes her want to laugh in sheer delight of him.

“That’s verra good, Sassenach. On account of I happen to be mad wi’ love for ye myself.”

“You’d better go, before you say something very Jamie Fraser and make me cry,” she warns with a more playful smile at the end.

He can’t help doubling back, this time to kiss the soft round apple of Claire’s cheek before nuzzling it with the tip of his nose.

“I’ll bring ye back a ginger ale.”

When he finally leaves her to rest, Jamie puts everything away in record time - except for the noodles. He places them in a separate container and sets it in the fridge with a sticky note on top.

For the bairn xx

[shantalangel]

Stories written on the wall of one of the rooms in the game Armikrog.

It’s about everything happened before the game, P’s parents life, how they met and how she appeared.

Reading sequence:

The Blank Miner. Part 1

The Blank Miner. Part 2

Tools, Weapons, Food, Plants, Medicine, Magic and Pets

A Meeting in the Woods

Punishment and Crime. Part 1

Punishment and Crime. Part 2

Punishment and Crime. Part 3

Desperation

Punishment and Crime. Part 2

Meva lead us to a narrow canyon, where walls stood adorned with strange carvings I could not decipher. Every angle was perfect and the walls were smooth as glass. I realized that the canyon had not been formed naturally. The canyon walls had been carved by the Dronk.

We came to a circle of polished white stones inlaid into the floor. Meva said that in order for us to see the Dronk, the stones must be stepped on in a precise pattern. Once this was done, the Dronk would come. Her grandfather had studied these stones and eventually discovered the pattern. The pattern had been taught to her when she was a child, as a sort of dance. She thought she was learning a kata or a family ritual. Not until much later did she realize it was the key to unlocking the Dronk's stones.

She completed the dance, and the final stone she stepped on sank into the ground two inches. I could hear the clinking of underground mechanisms as stone slid against stone. Spires of minerals covered in crystals sprouted from the ground in neat rows. Black, tangled orchards of petrified trees rose against the canyon walls. All was silent. We stood waiting for three hours. At one point, Meva pointed behind me, and I spun around to see three stone beings. They had a simple form, like a children's drawing. Their heads were huge rectangles with coarse holes cut clear through the head, allowing the light of the sky to shine through. Their bodies were rectangular stone. Their legs and arms were slabs.

Two Dronk pulled a third from a white stone monolith. They pulled out the body, setting it aside. Then they pulled out an arm and hung it on the body. This process continued until the third Dronk was completed.

"Do you see that, Tzurk? They're giving birth!" Meva whispered to me.

The newly formed Dronk was the same size as the other two, but he walked awkwardly, staggering as they guided his first steps. One of the Dronks used his finger to carve a symbol onto the new Dronk's forehead.

"You will hunt for us." He said. "Your name shall be Hunt."

When this was done, the Dronk turned to us. He welcomed Meva. He said he knew her, from long ago, when she had come to the valley with her grandfather. Meva bowed. The Dronk said he'd seen her as a baby, and he never forgot a bloodline. His name was Grel, he was the one who used the creation table and gave names.

Meva asked him if he could build a device for us to contain the heart of the mountain, and motioned for me to show him. Grel looked long and hard at the purple fuzz-ball, when I held it up to him.

Then he said, "We have no use for this, because we cannot die, but this has been hunted for by mortals for as long as time has spun. Everyone who found it before you, was either killed or vanished."

"Does this mean I will die also, or was I meant to have it?" I asked.

"Neither or both." Grel replied.

He motioned for us to follow him to the monolith, which he called, the Skeev Table.

Grel stirred the shiny white surface of the monolith like it was liquid. It didn’t move at all like solid rock. After a moment, he drew out a device that had an open hatch and two hinged arms on either side. Taking the purple fuzz-ball from me, he placed it in the top compartment and snapped the lid shut. Drel handed the device back to me, "These mechanical arms can pull the soul from one thing and hold it temporarily in the machine or transfer it into another object or body."

Grel put the corner of his stone head on Meva’s hand as if to kiss it. "Visit us again, Meva. Now go in peace."

Leaving Dronk

We left the Valley of the Dronk, and continued our trek to the cottage Quace had shown us on the map.

It was well off the main path, surrounded by thick woods; A much more inviting place to stay than the safe-house, and with no threat of turning into baby goats. The roof was tiled with bark shingles and the walls were of split logs. The front door was flanked by small windows.

Inside, the cottage was dry and warm. There was a rocking chair, a rug made of angora elephant, a framed bed, and a painting over the fireplace.

After dumping our packs on the bed, we went outside and explored the area around the cabin. Not far off, there was a grove of wild Mink-Mer trees. Their branches hung low from the weight of the fruit on them. I plucked one and we shared it, the sugary juice running down our chins.

To the south, a stream trickled down from nearby mountain peaks, run off from the thawing snows many miles above us.

I've looked back on our time in that cabin, and longed to return to those memories. It was the best time of our life. We were free from worry and concern, and our love continued to deepen. I can only think of one moment when it all went stink-bad.

The Baby Gardens

Meva went outside in the cool of the morning and paced off a large square field, then a second field in the shape of a giant circle. The square field was for boys, and the circular was for girls. By our custom it was mandatory to build both fields, and to decide which field would house the seed only after both were complete. Some couples demanded only males. Some demanded only females. Some demanded the exact same amount of each sex. Some decided to plant all of the offspring in one season. Still others chose not to plant any seed at all.

We had long walks around the two fields, Meva gleaning every weed from the area so that it looked pristine. All rocks and pebbles were moved to the outskirts of the fields, making an accidental sweeping rock path around them. She set up boarder markers of stick then drew a string taught between them. We gathered smaller sticks and placed them along the string to mark the border. She sang a song about the family inside the border, and how one day they would meet the family outside the border. The land was rich for reproduction.

It came time to plant. I exhaled, and a small sack lowered from the bottom of my torso. Where I am from, the sacks have three black marks on them; two of them look like circles for eyes and one mark below looks like a smile. Inside of the sack contains any number of seeds from one to ninety-nine. We are forbidden from checking the count of seeds in the sack, so the day of planting is always a surprise.

The next part of the planting ritual is up to Meva. She pokes her finger into the "right eye" mark of the sack, and the line that looks like a mouth opens up and says, "YAAAARRR!" then the number of seeds we are to plant that day come out of the mouth. In our case, one seed came out and landed in Meva’s open hand. Next she was to choose which field would receive the seed. Would it be the square field or the circular field? But before she could make her choice, something terrible happened. The seed withered in her hand and blew apart in a puff of smoke.

Shock came over Meva’s face as she considered the seed obliteration in her hand. She looked up at me to see how I would respond. I was not sure how to act. The first thing that came to mind was what people would call her from now on, "Obliterator." I pushed that word out of my mind because-- OBLITERATOR. No! Not Meva! She would not be known as an obliterator! It is true that other obliterators who did not want to be known by that name often claimed that they never tried to have children in the first place. But that was hard to do for the couples who more publicly built their square and circle fields in thickly populated areas. Sometimes the husband took the blame, claiming that no seed was ever produced from the sack in the first place. He would be known as "Seedless." That is a name so shameful that we would shout that curse to our enemies on the other side of the battlefield, "Seedless! Seedless! Seedless!"

Meva wept in my arms, and said I could leave and find another female. I told her that I would rather be married to even an obliterator than any non-Meva female!

She had the desperate idea to use the soul transfer device to put her into the body of a viable female, but the idea was wrought with difficulties. The first would be to find a female who wanted to be pulled from her body into Meva’s. Why would a female want to be removed from her own body? Perhaps if she had an incurable disease! If she was going to die anyway, she would want to switch bodies with Meva, then Meva could bring us a baby, and we could figure out something else to do with her incurable disease. Perhaps I could build her a mechanical body in which to house her soul in case of an emergency.

Meva was willing to do this, but I did not like the idea of using the soul transfer machine lightly. It was for emergencies, and it needed much more experimentation before we knew the limits of its power. I was not sure how trustworthy the housing device we got from the rock people would be. What would happen if the device failed? What would happen if the device killed the purple fuzz-ball in the middle of a soul transfer? I assumed the body would be obliterated, and the soul could be cast into the air, a homeless ghost in search of a body! No! Experimenting on Meva would not do! She was already sad enough by not being able to bring us children.

We did not turn the two fields under, but we did not keep nature from claiming the ground for the forest again. Trees grew in those fields, male trees where the square was and female trees where the circle field used to be. Rocks tumbled back over the ground, male rocks where the square field used to be and female rocks where the circle used to be. The weeds came.

Meva and I never brought up what happened in those two fields again.

Artism

Five years passed, and we had thoroughly researched the soul transfer device. I took most of the notes, and Meva formally put everything in her secret journal. We concluded our experiments, having grown weary of research, and put the soul transfer device in storage under the bed.

With the diversion of research over, I noticed Meva spent long hours staring out the window. She was looking at the baby gardens, now barely visible under a thick patch of weeds.

One day, Meva went outside to draw shapes in the soil using sticks. She told me it was a new art theory she was working on called Drawshapism. Then she pushed sticks into the ground and call it Stickism.

Not to be outdone, I piled rocks up in front of our cabin and called it Rockism.

Soon her stick artworks began to fill the yard, leaving little room for my rock expressions. With no place left on our property to properly display my art, I decided to pioneer a new undiscovered genre of fine art. I plucked pinecones from the surrounding trees and re-hung them from the branches. I called it Pineconeism.

Meva thought I was mocking her art. I asked her why she didn't think I was just mocking Rockism. She claimed intuition. She said that Pineconeism was redundant and derivative, which infuriated me.

Out of spite, I tied the pinecones onto the exact place from where I plucked them, inciting more criticism from Meva. She said she couldn't tell if the pinecones were growing naturally from the tree, or if I had plucked and tied them back onto the branch. I feigned offense and yelled, "You do not have an eye for art or you would recognize Pineconism when you saw it!"

She declared a new form of Pineconism, where the artist did not pluck the pinecone from the branch and retie it before declaring it a work of art. I thought this was obviously silly, and said as much. She yelled, "You are just jealous of my superior form of expression, Tzurk! You know that I have discovered an authentic movement known as Pineconism!"

"You are not even making art, Meva!" I yelled. "What you are doing is called NATURE, not art!"

She glared at me, "That is what all stupid people said about great art when it was first discovered! They did not have the mind to understand such things. I am shocked to know that you are one of those people!"

I pointed to the ground, "Fine! I just discovered Groundism! It is when the ground is just the ground. In fact, the whole world is already my work of art because it is all covered with the ground. I will sign my name to the world."

I snapped a stick from the ground, and signed my name to the ground.

Meva’s face turned red with anger, "You just broke off one of my stickist artworks!"

"Well, there weren’t any other sticks I could use to sign my name!" I shouted back, "Someone picked them all and stuck them into the ground!"

That night, Meva moved out of our bed and set up a pile of clothes to sleep on in the corner. I saw the stupidity of our fight and said so. But she would not talk to me, and would not return to our bed.

That night I did not sleep. When we slept together, I rested my hand on her hip. The empty space she left in the bed was haunting. I kept looking over at Meva in the corner, and could not believe I acted so stupid to her. I realized that she was really trying to be an artist. She needed to create. She hadn't started Stickism to spite me. She was expressing herself. I was the fraud. I was the one acting in spite.

That lonely bed was a warning that if I continued to disrespect my treasured wife, I may just end up alone… forever.

The next morning, I saw her stirring, so I went and lay down beside her. I apologized to her and admitted my spite.

She held up her hand to quiet me. "I curse my love of art. I put it before you. I forgive you, but I don’t want to pursue Stickism or my fraudulent form of Pineconism anymore."

She took my hand and placed it on her hip. She said, "I have a new form of art. I call it Tzurkism, and I will only ever be a Tzurkist!"

"And I am a Mevaist. I will only be obsessed with Mevaism forever!"

Research

I threw myself into the study of the soul transfer machine. Meva documented everything in a secret journal (Undisclosed location. Trust me, don’t even bother trying). When I first turned the machine on, we could feel it drawing power from the surrounding environment. If we used it too often, the surrounding trees would droop from exhaustion and the grass would lose its color. Though we didn't feel anything, it was my suspicion that the soul transfer machine could even be drawing its power from Meva and I.

With the use of some handmade baskets and some string, I was able to trap small spirds on which to experiment. We always had a few in cages along the back wall of our cabin, and took them outside when weather permitted. The first specimen I caught was an adult spird that looked healthy. We called him "Specimen A". I put him in one of the transfer machine’s claws, and had the other claw touching a rock. This was to emulate my first experience in the blank mines when I touched the purple fuzz-ball and went into the mountain.

I pushed the button to power the device, and it began to hum. Then, with a flip of a switch, Specimen A went suddenly limp, and the soul transfer machine cut its own power. Meva pushed her fingers through Specimen A’s feathers, feeling for a pulse. But there was none to be found.

We inspected the rock. I picked it up and held it up to my face. It was cooler than room temperature, but there were no visible signs that anything was different.

"If you are in there, little spird, hold on tight and we will bring you back to your body!" I said.

The claw of the machine was, once again, attached to the rock. The claw on Specimen A remained and we turned the machine on. With a flip of the switch, the spird sprang back to life. It's head snapped up, and it's feet clenched. We kept Speciman A in a cage just long enough to make sure there were no lasting side effects. Later that spring, we set Specimen A loose, and he built a nest in a tree that grew from what used to be our circular field.

It was not clear exactly what happened in the event of soul transfer. We were not sure if the soul got extracted from the body, and that caused the heart to stop, or if the soul transfer stopped the body’s heart, which released the soul to be transferred.

[mainly-kpop]

A Pirate’s Life For Me

Chapter Five

Pirate!BTS Maid!Reader Warnings: flirty bangtan Summary:  You had always wondered about pirates, about a life outside of these walls. On your 23rd birthday, you would finally find out what both were really like. Word Count: 2.2k

You were finally starting to get into the swing of things, doing the jobs instructed to you on the daily. However, the boys were really taking this “if you need help use her” thing for granted.

You made meals with Jin, which was never very ‘eventful’. Usually he would flirt, tell you some terrible jokes. You laughed anyway; his humour just as bad as yours.

‘And then he said, that’s not a clam! That’s my wife!’ You let out a hearty snort, complimenting his loud squeaky laugh perfectly. Jungkook entered that moment, rolling his eyes at you both. He squeezed himself in beside you, face close to your shoulder.

‘What you after?’ You whispered, feeling his hard body pressed against yours. Fuck knows what the kid did on this ship, but he was muscular as fuck. He wrapped his arms around your waist, one hand securing you firmly into his body, the second picking up a piece of chopped vegetable. He slipped it between his lips, an action that shouldn’t have been that attractive. Jin just watched the show, rolling his eyes, annoyed he never thought of it.

‘I’m just here to get a herb, for Jimin’s flu medicine. He’s thrown up twice today, pretty gross. Don’t go near him babe, you might catch it too!’ He warned, reaching above your head grabbing the herb and leaving promptly. You shuddered and pouted, poor Jimin.

‘Weasel.’ Jin scoffed, turning back to the meat on the metal plate. You tilted your head to look at him, he noticed the silence, assuming what you were thinking.

‘Jimin isn’t sick today, he’s perfectly fine actually. He just doesn’t want you to get close to anyone that’s not him.’ You only seemed more confused, causing Jin to huff a sigh, coming towards you.

‘You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that? Like, there is not a soul on this ship that doesn’t want you. When you walk around, look out for it. He doesn’t want you to have anyone else, no one else bar him. Unfortunately for him, we all feel the same way.’ He smirked, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You just stood speechless for a minute before shaking the thought out of your head.

‘Hmm, I don’t quite believe you. I can see Jungkook has a crush on me, that much is true. The rest of you though? I don’t see it.’ You spoke leaning closer to him. He laughed, coming around the bench.

‘Are you calling my bluff sweetheart?’ He spoke, raising an eyebrow at you, smiling at him you just shrugged. Despite being pressed against the counter by his body, you seemed pretty cocky.

‘The things I would do to you, bent over this fucking counter. I’d-‘

‘YO, Jin, can I borrow Y/N for a bit?’ Jin’s jaw ticked for a second, before smiling. He turned to look at Hobi, stepping aside from you. You let go of the breath you were holding, sliding past his body, he gripped your wrist before you left, pulling you flush to him. You watched the way his lips formed over the words, wondering what they would feel like on your neck.

‘Think about what I said. I’m not lying to you...’ you just nodded, joining Hoseok.

‘What do you need me for?’ You spoke, getting to what they called a supply room. It kept most foods, medicine and drinks.

‘Just some help countin’ beautiful!’ He smiled, you just rolled your eyes, laughing at him. However, if he needed help with counting, you were more than happy to help. Starting with the medical supplies, you could see that bandages were wearing thin. Probably due to Jungkook wrapping them over every and any cut on your body. You smiled at the thought, touching the slither of fabric over your knee.

‘You know, I could punish him for that.’ Hoseok spoke openly, giving no thought to the weight of his words. You tilted your head slightly, confused as to what he meant. Punish him for doing his job? Surely not...

‘For misusing supplies. He shouldn’t be using bandages on things that aren’t large wounds. That could get him punishments.’ He explained, still counting food items.

‘You don’t need to punish him for things like that. It’s my fault, if anything it should be me taking those, it’s me he’s always having to patch up.’ You spoke, keeping your eyes down. Hoseok smirked, walking closer to you, pinning you against a stem, holding the ship together.

‘Are you saying you’ll take his punishments?’ He spoke clearly, making sure you knew what you were signing up for. You just nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. His eyes darted down to the motion, watching the blood drain and flood back with the movement of your teeth.

‘You know what your signing up for right baby? Your punishments will be very different from his...’ He spoke, eyeing up your body for added effect. If you hadn’t clicked before, you more than should have by now.

‘Hmm, how different are we talking?’ you played back, moving your hips towards him. He let his eyes close, momentarily enjoying the sensation before grabbing you to stop. Pinning your entire body against the pillar, completely unable to move.

‘So much different, in fact, maybe even a little enjoyable...’ He whispered, lips grazing your ear as he spoke. A smell of fruit radiated off his body making you feel dizzy. His hands trailed your hips, causing goosebumps to follow his fingertips.

He kissed down from your ear to your collarbone, your head rolling back to give him more room. You moaned as he nipped the skin, lips trailing closer and closer to yours. Firmly and quickly, as if someone would snatch you out of his grasp, he placed his lips on yours. You had kissed before, but this was like none of those. The only boy you had been with had been immature, young. He had not known how to kiss a woman, how to let you know how much he wanted you from one kiss. Jungkook’s kiss was short, gentle, interrupted. Hoseok wouldn’t let anyone interrupt, knew how to make you feel everything he wanted to do to you. You pulled away as his fingers started to make a path down your stomach, sitting at the hem of your trousers.

‘Hoseok, I’ve never...’ You trailed off, grasping his hand in yours. His eyes shot out his sockets, pulling himself quickly off you. It wasn’t what you wanted really, but you were thankful for the space to think.

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to force you into anything. I didn’t realise, if I had known-‘ You cut him off with a swift kiss, his body tensed for a second before he relaxed, swinging your hips with his hands he pulled away. Your foreheads rested together, both trying to catch your breath.

‘I don’t want to stop, not really. You didn’t force me into anything, but I know we should stop here. For the time being at least. I should re-join Jin for making dinner...’

‘Right. You’re right, see you later?’ He questioned, not like you could say no, you were floating in the middle of the ocean. You just smiled, nodding as you climbed up the little ladder, a happy smile plastered on your face.

The next day, you were requested to assist Jimin, him teaching you how to steer the boat with him. By the end of you being here, there wasn’t going to be anything you couldn’t do on a ship.

‘So, if you just look over that way, your hands are naturally going to twist it that way. Don’t spin it on your own, you might push it too far. I don’t really feel like saving us from crashing into an island.’ You smacked his arm, causing a bubble of laughter to erupt from his throat. You smiled at the sound, it was a happy and warm sound. Doing as instructed, you held the wheel, looking towards the vast area of empty sea.

‘So right now, your leading us north west, you see the little pin moving?’ He questioned, trapping your body between him and the helm. You peer at the circle in his hand, small glass compass in the palm of his hand, dial in the centre. You nodded, looking at him over your shoulder, happy to be doing something. His face was closer than expected, nose brushing his cheek as your head turned. What was with these boys and smelling like your favourite fruits?

‘Jimin let her go, would you? I need her help.’ Namjoon spoke, grabbing your hand. Jimin placed his hand on the helm, securing it in the direction you wished to go. Following Namjoon to a little desk on deck, he stood over the maps with you. He pointed at a little drawing, tapping his finger over it a couple times.

‘This is the island we were just at, what should we name it?’ He questioned, looking directly at you. He wanted you to name an island? You pouted in thought, tapping your fingers rhythmically against your chin. He watched you with interest, wondering what you could be thinking.

‘You all spilled your stories to me, right? Let’s call it memory cove!’ Namjoon thought that was positively adorable, scrawling the name under the island.

‘Memory cove it is. Maybe when we visit again, we can share more hmm?’ He whispered, still leaning towards you on the desk.

‘I hope so, hopefully it will be memories we are all a part of.’ You spoke, leaving your face on the palm of your hand, looking from him to the ocean behind him. You turned your eyes back to him, the sound of your name startling you slightly.

‘Tae has been sitting there for some time now. Why don’t you go see if he’s okay?’ He spoke, nodding his head towards the middle of the ship at the side. Taehyung sat with his hands resting on the rope, legs dangling off the ship. You turned back to Namjoon, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

‘Thank you for letting me name an island Joon.’ You whispered, watching the light blush grow on his cheeks. God you could be the death of him. Scurvy didn’t stand a chance.

‘What you thinkin’ ‘bout?’ You spoke, startling him slightly. He shifted over regardless, letting you sit in the space beside him. You both looked over the expanse of water, enjoying the silence for a moment.

‘Do you think there are mermaids? Not the evil ones that drag sailors to their deaths, just mermaids.’ He spoke softly, not looking at you for a second, just watching the waves crash against the side of the ship.

‘I think it’s possible yes. For our sake, I hope they’re nice...’ He giggled at you, turning his head, it still resting on the curve of his arm.

‘Why do you ask?’ You queried, his face fell into a frown, looking away from you slightly.

‘Everyone always said I was childish. My parents, the navy men. I wanted to believe there was more out there, what’s so wrong with that?’ He wondered, mostly to himself. Thinking out loud, allowing you into his thoughts. You took hold of his free hand, the one that didn’t cradle his head. Looking down at your connected fingers he smiled, looking back up at your face. Your eyes already waiting for him.

‘Nothing, there is nothing at all wrong with that. Believe it until you’ve discovered it, Tae. Then they will eat their words.’ You encouraged, watching the warmth in his eyes spread. He lifted your joined hands, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. The captain wanted to see you, when you were finished with Jimin.’ Nodding, you stood from your position ruffling his hair lightly. He swatted your hand before standing himself, going to join Jimin and Namjoon.

‘Come in!’ Yoongi yelled from within the room, allowing you to swing the door open. He sat at his desk; legs swung up on the wood. Motioning for you to sit, you do as instructed, swinging your feet up on the desk too. He just regarded you curiously, letting a small and quiet laugh slip past his lips.

‘You know, we told you all about us, but you never shared about yourself. Do you mind? With me?’ He spoke, letting his legs swing down as he leaned his elbows on the desk. He assumed you may not be comfortable sharing fully with the boys yet. He hoped, since you shared a room, you were more comfortable with him. So comfortable, that you might share your story so far with him. You wanted to, wanted to let him know you, like you now know him. Of all the hardships and whatever else.

‘It’s not exciting. Like really, nothing super eventful happened to me.’ You shrug off, slipping your feet from the desk also. Gripping your hand across the table, he forced you to look up at him.

‘I don’t care if you were born in the Palace or crawled your way there. I want to hear your story. I want to hear about you.’

[lilhemmo]

#67 "you're bleeding all over my carpet" with Peter?

“I’m sorry, okay!” he groans, laying his head back against your mirror. “I-I didn’t think I’d need you to know, and you know what happens to people who know a superhero’s identity!”

“Yes, Peter,” you deadpan, wetting a rag, “but you’re bleeding all over my carpet. I wish I would’ve known before you were doing all of this.” You gesture to his whole body, the blood dripping from his eye and his arm and his chest.

 “I know, I know,” Peter sighs, fiddling with his mask in his hands. He won’t look you in the eyes because he knows you’re pissed, and he knows that he thinks you’re cute when you’re pissed. So if he thinks you’re cute and you know you’re pissed, surely he’s going to say something that will screw up the moment and then you’ll be kicking him out still dripping blood on the floor. 

You sigh, scrubbing at his arm gently, trying to staunch the blood and keep the wound clean simultaneously. “I get it,” you tell him, not looking him in the eyes either. You can feel his breath against the crown of your head as you duck down, focused on cleaning his skin. The white rag soaks in red and your heart shatters, but you continue anyway, “I don’t care that you’re off risking your life. I get that. If I was super juiced, I’d do it too.” 

You swallow and feel the red blush creeping onto your face from your neck, “You can’t do it alone, though, Pete. You just can’t. Ned is your guy in the chair, but you can’t call the Avenger’s doctor every time you have a busted lip.” 

“I know,” he tells you, his voice quiet. He chews on his swollen lower lip, barely wincing, “Aren’t I lucky that you’re in your senior year of going to school for medicine.” 

“Something like that, yes,” you supply, raising a brow at his suggestion that you’ll become his under-the-table doctor. You reach for the needle and thread, “You’re not bullet-proof, though. Eventually, if you keep at the pace you’re going at, you’re going to need a real doctor.”

“You’re a real doctor!” he argues, his voice rising an octave. He sighs at your deadpanned face, “Well, mostly a real doctor. You could pull a bullet out of me if you needed to.”

Peter sighs and resigns himself to leaning against the wall, “I know you don’t want it to come down to that, but it might. If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. I can jump out of that window right now if it’s not what you want.”

“Who wants this for their-their, their person?” you ask of him, tying off his stitches. You grab a butterfly patch and try your hardest to piece his eyebrow back together. “I don’t want to see you like this but I don’t want anyone else to, either, Peter.”

“I would hug you,” he chuckles breathily, “but I’ve got blood on my chest.”

“I’ll clean it up in a little bit,” you tell him, reaching for another rag. “But good job trying to change the subject.” 

He smirks down at you, raising that dark brow again to challenge you, “Thanks. I’ve gotten great at that over time, I like to think.” 

You pour peroxide down his chest to clean the cut and he winces, turning his smirk into a grimace and you aren’t sure whether to find pleasure or discomfort in the expression. A breath puffs out from your lips, “I want you to just be careful, Peter. That’s all I want you to promise me.” 

“I try to be careful,” he tells you, and you find that his thumb catches under your chin, drawing your gaze to him. “Or maybe I just like running into buildings. My favorite doc gets to look at me after.” Peter shrugs, that mischievous grin returning, “Plus, gives me a reason to have my shirt off.” 

You smack his non-injured shoulder and find yourself forcing tears back down your lids, “You’re a jerk.” 

“I am what I have to be,” his voice turns serious and he sounds ancient as his honest brown eyes bore into your own. His hand reaches back and his fingers lace into your hair. You find your head dropping down to cradle into his palm, closing your eyes in the process. 

“Then I guess I’ll be what I have to be too,” you say, the honesty scraping your throat raw.  You shrug, your shoulders feeling like they’re carrying mountains, “If that means keeping you alive, I’ll take it.”

Tension hangs like a cloud in the space between you, his eyes daring to stare down your own. He’s quiet, but he’s got that quiver in his lip that you know means he’s nervous. You wonder for a moment if he’ll kiss you and you can stop that shaking. 

Instead he leans up and presses his warm mouth to your forehead, hesitating there for a moment longer than what could ever be labeled as platonic. He sighs, dropping his forehead to yours and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t expose his soul, “I’ll try not to make your job too difficult, doc.”

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