#be me. sick. barely speak. hurts to swallow.

[townofcadence]

Tremors pass through Artair as he's forced to meet Ares' gaze. His mouth leaks with blood that drips down his lips, both from the slices to his face and from his earlier incisor clamping down onto his tongue. It streaks down his chin and at the corners of his mouth.

The line of his lips wavers and thins until they're white and bloodless, where they're not stained already. It's all he has that's him right now, really. His eyes can no longer move, he's in fucking agony between his face and legs and just being here at all, and he is still so still. But he doesn't answer when he is asked if he understands. It's the one thing he can do, disobey how he can.

His skin crawls, and nausea crashes against him in waves, as Ares comes closer, lays closer down on him. It's familiar in a way he can't stand. He wants to throw up-- and he does. Bile spills in his mouth he has to swallow. The shaking is unmanageable. "I.... love it. When. You...ghh--- tear me to---to pieces."

The words strangle, fought as each syllable takes shape in his mouth. The smile on Ares' face summons more acid and a dizzy spinning in his head and pain that severs clean through his skull. He's light-headed from the fear, already with a headache where he hit the ground under Ares and---- his body seizes, what pieces of it he has say over, as those nails drag along him beneath his shirt. The pressure and tension that weaves their way through him has him immobile except for the scant breaths, leaving him in stressed and strained gasps. He's sick-- he's going to be sick-- stop touching him--- he can't--- he can't bare this just stop touching him please--. The gentle touch is just a preamble and he knows how horrible it can get. Will become. He's shaking so much he can hardly speak the next command.

"Pl--- ghhhk--- pl-please Ares..... h-----hurt me." He clamps his jaw after what little he says, keeping the words limited to just the bare minimum. He-- doesn't want to say more. Sparks light his gaze. The green eye's sclera is growing dark as the yellow's lights up. His back aches both from the drop and something itching to come out. He cannot move. His teeth bare in a bloodied grimace, as he looks Ares in the eyes because he has no other choice. His fingernails dig into the ground between everything he feels, and the muscles beneath Ares's hand jump as if trying to move away from him.

Ares is harsh and unwavering over him as he awaits his response. He doesn't even respond to Artair's crying, when he would often take the opportunity to torment him about it. And there isn't a single ounce of remorse within him. Not that it was unusual for Ares, but the lack thereof feels far more frightening when the vampire is being so serious.

But then, Artair relinquishes just a bit in the form of opening his eyes. It soothes his rage to some degree, however small, and he takes the opportunity to yank the other's head fast enough that he can't help but to meet his hypnotic gaze. "There. Do not look away from my eyes unless I tell you to. Do you understand?" A small smile returns to him, and even his voice has regained it's silky quality.

His posture relaxes a bit as well, on top of his pet. Ares lays more easily on top of him, in an almost playful manner. "It is a rare treat seeing you cry like this, isn't it? Always trying to be so brave... but I suppose if you weren't at least a little feisty you wouldn't be nearly as fun to break, over and over again..... Say it. Tell me how much you love it when I tear you to pieces." His smile is growing back into a toothy grin once more, one that would be charming in any other situation.

"Beg me to tear you open, right now." He commands in a soft voice, clawed fingers trailing up under the front of Artair's shirt and splaying against the skin of his stomach. "Just like you used to. Please, Ares..."

[badolmen]

RIP my voice o7

[luveline]

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

[okwonyo]

CONSOLE ME, 或 𓈒𓈒 taking care of them when they are sick.

⟡​⎯⎯⎯ 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾 𓈒𓈒

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 1OOO fluff established relationship ── kissing skinship mention of sickness not proofread ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀hi ! enjoy this, my loves >3<

rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

would accept the special treatment without batting an eye. would just love when you are all worried over and doting on him— you would be able to see in his smile. 

would look at you as if you hang the stars and the moon while you bring your hand to his forehead to check his temperature. 

you would ask him to take his medicine, to lay down, to sleep and he would oblige with a giggle. his obvious adoration for you will make him listen to everything you tell him. 

JONGSEONG

would get a cold during a day you were supposed to go on a date and would swear he will be fine while he coughs his lungs out. 

would not even let you take care of him properly, saying something like ‘there is a difference between not being able to do something and not wanting to’ but he would cough so much that you would be a bit confused at that.

would end up falling asleep in your arms while still protesting. would snore softly against your neck while your fingertips leave soft touches on his nuke. 

JAEYUN

would be more clingy than he already tends to be ; would whine your name whenever you go out of the room with his running nose which would make you chuckle. 

would not even try to hide his joy when you feed him. would barely be able to swallow anything with his wide smile hurting his cheeks and his teeth showing off.

would rest his head on your lap, with the cold tissue on his forehead to get the fever down. staying calm and relaxing as you gently play with his fluffy brown hair. 

SUNGHOON

would get even more quiet than he tends to be, his voice would be raspy and barely above a whisper when he would try to speak after a chorus of coughs. 

would really appreciate it when you treat him like your little princess. would close his eyes and hum as you brush his delicate locks.

but, wouldn’t let you get anywhere without him. with his hand in yours as you go practically anywhere, would never leave your side. 

SEONWOO

would have a cute pink taint on the surface of his face, on his cheeks and on his forehead. his cheeks and nose would not be exceptions either, but there would mostly be there because of you.

a shy smile would appear on his pretty lips every time you do something for him, always, a small ‘thank you, you didn’t have to’ would escape from his mouth.

might shed a little tear when you bring him the soup you made for him, claiming that it is your mom’s recipe. would also want to kiss you, but wouldn’t want you to get sick. 

JUNGWON

would be burning hot and still feeling extremely cold, and despite how much you would tell him to stay still, would find a way to pull you in his embrace.

would not even let you give him medicine or any food, too stubborn to let you go and be taken off. would only accept if you promise a kiss after.

would apologize over and over after getting you sick as well in the following two days. because he is a sweetheart, would take care of your entire recovery.

RIKI

would get sick in the silliest way possible which would be : not being able to leave you alone for a second when you are sick and clinging to you during that time. 

his shyness would be all over his face when you would take care of him. would keep his head down as you scold him for not listening to you and catching your cold right from your mouth. 

however, he would repeat the same mistakes again. would seek comfort in your embrace, feeling healed by having the chance to be close to you in any way he can. ould follow you like a baby duck.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[osachiyo]

USING THE SAFEWORD - gojo , geto , toji , nanami

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ c/w. . . n/sft content (mdni), fem!reader, choking, overstimulation, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, hurt + comfort, use of the safeword, oral (f + m receiving), reader is unable to use safeword in some of these, these men are so soft for you please don't be too mad at em :(

disclaimer ! safe words and boundaries are very crucial when having intercourse. never ever ever feel shy to use your safeword because it literally is there for your safety.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ note. . . I've been wanting to write something like this for a while <3 lmk if y'all want a bsd version next :D as always, happy reading and hope y'all enjoy !

Satoru

You felt dizzy─ so fucking dizzy as Satoru's fingers tightened around your neck. You tried to let him know by slapping his forearms, clawing at them─ doing anything to get him to loosen his grin but to your fear, he was too deep in the pleasure of your sweet cunt gave him. His free hand only pinned your hands above your head─ grumbling something about you to "keep still 'n let me fuck you right".

This was getting bad─ black spots started to appear in your vision, tears gathering in your lashline as you flailed and kicked your legs─ desperate to tell him you don't want this anymore. The continous thrusts of his hips made you sick to your stomach─ fuck, were you gonna pass out? fortunately for you, as if the heavens had heard your aching pleas, Satoru's grip loosened a tad─ just enough for you to gurgle out your safeword. It took satoru a full few seconds to register what flew out of your mouth─ quickly getting off of you, his still hardened cock pulling out of your cunt. His brows were pinched as a worried frown graced his shiny lips, "babe─"

That's when he realized the tears pouring out of your eyes weren't because of pleasure─ but pain. He reached a hand out to you but that only made you flinch away, your eyes widening in fear and for a split moment, he felt his heart stop. Fuck, what did he just do?

Satoru's own eyes were open wide, hands balling into tight fists as he watched you sniffle and shiver, small hiccups leaving your swollen lips. "Fuck I─ baby, I'm so sorry, I just─" he thought about what to say next─ that he lost control? That he never meant to hurt you? He swallowed hard, pretty eyes glossed over from worry and pure guilt.

You sniffled before laying on your back, lifting your arms to make grabby hands at satoru who only let out a breath of relief, gently cradling your face in his palms as he sputtered apologies after apologies to you─ hands shaky as he pulled you to his chest and muttered soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry's" into your hair, soft lips pressing gentle but reassuring kisses on the top of your head he holds you against his chest.

After a few moments, the snow haired man finally found it in himself to speak, "what happened, baby? Did I go too hard?" His voice was barely above a whisper. You nuzzled your face further into his chest─ tears smudging on his skin as you shook your head, "jus' couldn't breathe," you peaked up at him, and his frown deepened, heart clenching as he stared at your glassy eyes. " 'm so sorry, sweet girl— does it hurt?" He rubbed little shapes into the bare skin of your back, lips pressing gentle kisses on your temple. You finally smiled, shaking your head again— "no, jus' a little bit sore. Think there'll be marks though."

Satoru let out a breath of relief at that, shoulders burying his face into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. "That's good— don't want my pretty girl to be in pain." You hummed in response, staying like that for a while— basking in the comforting silence until you spoke up again.

"Toru?"

"Hm?"

"Let me choke you instead."

Suguru

You've been like this for god knows how long— spread across your shared bed, knees to your chest and with Suguru between your legs, making out with your cunt.

"Holy fuck— this pussy is so fuckin' perfect f'me, isn't she?" He growls— talking as if your pussy was a living being. You only moaned in response, trying to buck your hips up to meet his mouth, only to receive a harsh slap on your clit from Suguru. He 'tsked', running his clean hand through his raven locks before glaring at you, "stop—" smack! "movin'—" smack! "s'much—" smack! "whore—" smack! Each word was punctuated by a harsh slap to your pussy. You squealed with each hit— poor cunt burning from the brutal treatment your boyfriend was giving you.

He went back to using his tongue, but something was wrong— it didn't feel good anymore, only pain. Hours of overstimulation mixing with the pain of his harsh hits only made it sting and burn.

"Sugu! h-hurts— no more!" You babbled, but he couldn't hear you— too busy eating your pussy which basically had him in a trance, leaving you with no choice but to whimper out your safeword.

It took him a couple of seconds to register before he paused— blinking up at you before apologies after apologies left his mouth, checking to see if you were hurt anywhere before you calmed him down by placing a hand on his chest, " 'm not hurt, Sugu— jus'.. too much," you panted, letting him pick you up and place you on his lap— " 'm so sorry, princess. Didn't mean too go too far," there was genuine regret in his voice, the bottom half of his face still soaked with your juices. You reached a palm to wipe off the liquid from his chin before grinning up at him— he only kissed your cheek in return.

"You forgive me?" He pulled away to look at you, a small pout adorning his thin lips. You only kissed his nose in response, earning a chuckle from him, "I'll take that as a yes then."

You two stayed like that for a couple minutes— just in each other's arms as Suguru started humming a random song, the gentle tone of his soothing voice slowly lulled you to sleep, not before you heard a faint, "I love you so much, angel," accompanied by a soft kiss on your shoulder.

Toji

"Oh, fuuck— yeah, fuckin' slut— takin' me s'well in that tight lil' throat, heh," Toji growled, hips bucking up into your face as you gagged and choked around his unbelievably fat cock. Tears and snot were dripping down your face— ruining the picture perfect makeup you had worked so hard for, mascara running down your swollen cheeks in inky streaks, lipstick smudged all over your lips and even staining your boyfriend's length in rings.

Seriously, though. Did you really expect him to be gentle with you after prancing around in that tiny little dress the whole evening? You should be grateful he didn't bend you over the dinner table and fuck you in front of your friends and co-workers.

He basically shoved you down to your knees once you arrived back home— slapping the leaky tip of his flushed cock against your face a couple times before stuffing it into your poor throat and here you were— getting used by Toji Fushiguro like his personal flleshlight as you went light headed from being deprived of breathing for so long. It seems as if he had forgotten you were human and needed to breathe— the tightness of your throat basically making his mind go blank.

You tried to scratch, claw and slap his thighs— which only made him fuck your face with more vigor, not realizing those were signs telling him to stop.

A sloppy mixture of your drool and his precum dripped down your chin in stringy webs, making a mess on the polished floor beneath you as he yanked you by the makeshift ponytail he made— pulling you off his cock with a wet "pop!", giving you the chance to gurgle out your safeword breathlessly. Toji's eyes visibly widened, slowly letting your hair go before kneeling in front of you, gently patting your back as you coughed and heaved— trying to get air back in your poor lungs.

"Too much?" His voice was gravelly, as he wiped the sweat off your face, helping you back up to your feet. You could only nod in response, his brows pinching as tears kept rolling down your face. Gently sitting you down on the couch before he walked away to get you some water.

You immediately relaxed feeling the cool water hit your throat, soothing the bruising throb of pain your boyfriend's cock had given you.

He placed the glass away before sitting next to you, wordlessly wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you to his lap.

"Sorry I went too far, ma', wan' me to make it up to ya?" He whispered into the softness of your hair, gigantic hands playing with your much smaller ones as you leaned into him.

"Mhm, can you or—" "Order Chinese? Got'cha," he cut you off, pulling his phone out from his pocket. You smiled, snuggling further into him, "and cuddles." Rolling his eyes, he hummed, "Anything my princess wants."

Kento

"Slap!"

The deafening noise cut through the heavy tension in the room, your ass burning from the sting of Kento's harsh palm cracking down on the soft fat— "t-twenty f-four!"

He hummed, voice deep as his rough palm smoothed over the battered skin of your ass, spreading your cheeks to peak at your sopping cunt— the vibrator set on it's highest setting, but he knew better than to let you cum. Right as you were about to release all over the sheets— the vibrations of the small pink toy suddenly stopped, cruelly ripping your orgasm away from your grasp. A pitiful sob left your lips, legs thrashing around— "no! W-why, please— p-please let me cum, Ken—" Another brutal slap to your bruised ass cut you off, a low growl leaving Kento's lips as he smacked you again and again— your wails egging him on further— "fucking count."

The safeword left your lips before you could even think— hiccups and sobs escaping your throat. Your husband stopped immediately upon hearing the magic word— snapping out of his daze and rushing to your side. "Are you okay, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?" His voice was laced with worry, his heart ached in regret as he watched you sniffle, curling to yourself.

"Fuck, love— I'm so sorry I—" He quickly undid your restraints and took the vibrator out of you, tossing it aside before grabbing a glass of water and handing it to you. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Does it hurt too much?"

You shook your head, to his relief, and took the glass of water from him— muttering a small "thanks."

After you had fully calmed down, he also applied some ointment on your sore bottom, being as gentle as possible not to hurt you.

He also ate you out later— to make up for all the edging, Small apologies were leaving his lips the entire time as he made out with your cunt— calling you his good girl, placing a gentle kiss on your clit after you reached your peak.

note. im sorry if this sucks ass ya'll, i had this sitting in my drafts for a while and just had to get it out :(

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[charliemwrites]

Good morning. Chapter 8. 😈

(Okay I was a lil wrong. Not full smut, but some spice.)

CW for violence, threats, non-con groping. Reader has a “bad” time and Simon is a bastard. Stay safe while reading!

He doesn’t kill Brandon immediately. No, no that little sack of spare organs deserves a long, slow, thoughtful death. But he doesn’t need to be able to walk for that.

Besides, Simon has a little bunny to track down.

And when he picks up your trail, oh. Oh. You are in so much trouble.

Somehow, you managed to shimmy a window open just enough to squeeze through. Out into a goddamn blizzard. At the very least, he notices when he finds your tracks, you put some boots on.

Catching up to you is pitifully easy. Longer legs and more experience in extreme terrain like this - you’ve barely made it to the tree line before he snatches you up.

“No!” You shout. There’s something so fucking cute about it. The pitch, the indignance mixed with despair. His shoulder shake a bit as he hauls you over her shoulder. “No, Riley, put me down!”

“Name’s Simon, luv.”

“I don’t care!”

“You will.”

He carries you, kicking and squirming and shouting back towards the lodge. Only starts to lose patience when he loses his grip a bit and nearly drops you on a hard sheet of ice.

He growls, digs his fingers into your plush thigh. “If you don’t fucking behave, I will spank you raw right fucking here. With your face in the snow.”

You gasp. Pause. Then go limp, sniffling and crying as he carries you back inside. He dumps you gently in front of the fire on your stomach, pins you down with his boot in the center of your back when you instantly try to scramble away.

“Where did those good manners go, sunshine?” he teases.

“Fuck manners,” you cry, pressing your wet face into your arms.

“No, baby, see? Those good manners are why you’re still alive. So sweet, so nice.” He leans down, careful not too put too much pressure on your abdomen. “Too sweet and nice to die.”

You hitch with a quiet noise. “Why are you doing this? Another lesson?”

“Mm. Could make it another lesson, couldn’t I? But no, luv. This all just for you, because I want to.”

As if on cue, Brandon comes crawling into view whimpering and begging for you to help him. Simon, annoyed by the interruption, snaps at him to shut up.

“Speaking of what I want you to do…” He drops to his knees, straddling your ass. You jolt when you feel the unmistakable hardness pressed against it. Takes everything in him not to grind. “I want to peel this little prick’s skin of square by square.”

Both you and Brandon make frightened noises at that. Simon rolls his eyes and continues.

“I’d settle for letting him bleed out from the stomach or lighting him on fire if he apologizes though.”

“F-for what?” Brandon demands.

Simon buries his fingers in your snow-wet hair because if he doesn’t, he’s going to take this idiot apart piece by piece right in front of you. Seems like a bit much for a second date.

“To her, for being a fucking pervert.”

“I’m not the sick fuckin-“

“S-Simon, please,” you pipe up, voice quiet and wobbly. “D-don’t do this, don’t hurt him.”

He clicks his tongue. “Little late for that, eh?”

“Just… please. He’s suffered enough hasn’t he?”

He laughs. Can’t help it. You just don’t get it yet, do you?

“He touched you. He upset you.”

You swallow. “You’re upsetting me.”

“You’re mine.”

You suck in a breath and finally, finally seem to understand.

“Then…. Then just leave him be. F-for me?”

Simon sighs, but can’t help the fondness that flares in his chest. Such a smart, kind little thing.

“Tell you what, sunshine, I’ll make you a deal.”

He shuffles back a bit, captures both your little wrists with one hand. You don’t try to struggle, know better now. He could purr; such a fast learner too. He draws you up on your knees, leaning you back against his chest.

“If I win, he watches what I do to you and then dies nice and slow like he deserves,” he murmurs in your ear.

You tremble. “W-what are you gonna do to me?”

He grins wickedly, trailing cool blood-stained fingers beneath your shirt. “Nothin’ you’re not already gaggin’ for.”

You jerk a bit, that precious flame of defiance brightening. “I’m not-!”

“Then prove me wrong and take the bet.”

“W-wait what happens if I win?”

He snorts softly, nuzzles his mask into your cheek. Likes the way you shift uncomfortably.

“I’ll stop. Hell, you know what? I’ll turn myself in. Brandon gets to live and you go to therapy and I got to prison, yeah?”

You turn to him, eyes huge and mouth parted in shock. Hook, line, and fuckin’ sinker. Oh, sweet thing, you never stood a chance.

“Deal?” he asks.

You only hesitate for a beat, know that it’s off. Too good to be true.

“If you don’t take the deal, I’ll just continue with our regularly scheduled programming.”

“No!” you gasp. “I-I’ll take the deal. What… what’s the bet?”

“Well,” he purrs, tracing aimless patterns along your sensitive tummy. “Since you’re so sure that you’re not gaggin’ for my cock - you win if this pretty cunt isn’t drippin’ wet for me.”

And he sees it, the exact millisecond that you realize you’re going to lose this bet. You squeeze your eyes shut, a little sob escaping you.

Brandon makes a horrified noise on the other end of the carpet.

“You can’t be fucking serious?! You’re fucking-”

That’s quite enough of that. Simon can’t have you feeling ashamed of something that’s only natural.

“You say another fucking syllable and you’ll be eating your own eyeball.”

Your stomach hitches with disgust. He shushes and coos to you, “I know, I know. Gross nasty, hm? But I can’t have him speaking ill of you, sunshine.”

He tugs the mask up to the bridge of his nose, places a slow kiss against the corner of your jaw.

“Now, for our wager…”

You turn your face away as his hand trails down your abdomen, thumb sweeping over your navel. You shiver as he toys with the waistband of your pants, then finally slips his fingers inside, down….

“Oh, luv,” he moans.

You’re fucking soaked for him. Your panties alone are absolutely ruined. When he pulls them aside and strokes his fingertips through your slit, they come away gleaming. Your clit is swollen and hard, so sensitive that the gentlest brush makes you hiccup and twitch.

He stuffs the two fingers in his mouth, sucking the taste of you from bloody skin. Fucking divine. He could cum in his pants from that alone.

“Mm, shame that,” he rasps in your ear. “Guess I win.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[deathbxnny]

Hi I would like to request a part 2 of my previous request for the jinx x fem reader with abandonment issues

"I'm sorry you lost your way home." | Jinx x Reader

(Previous part)

I decided to combine these two, so thank you to the anons and their requests!! I hope you'll like this!<33

(I'm sorry in advance-)

Content: Heavy angst, abandonment issues, heavy spoilers for season 2 act 3, hurt/no comfort, established romantic relationships, death, sfw

Reader was asked to be afab in one of the requests. However, no pronouns are mentioned in the post!

((Not proofread))

The first person to visit you after her disappearance was Vi. The sister you had heard so much about, yet never anything good. But it all melted away at her words.

Your ears were ringing, and for a moment, you wondered if you had perhaps heard her wrong. "... Jinx said that she was going to help someone out before she left with Isha. And... And she swore they'd be back. So don't you lie to me-" You took a deep breath when you stumbled back against the doorway, nearly sliding down the rough wood in terror. Oh, how you wished the ground would open up to swallow you whole.

Vi gave you an unreadable look, her hand hesitantly reaching out to grab you, but she refrained at the last second. You meant the world to Jinx. She had asked her to find you just before... "I'm sorry. But what I'm saying is the truth, I-... They are both dead. There is no doubt about it. I saw it with my own eyes both times and... I can't get the images out of my head." Sweat dripped down your forehead as you only barely heard Vi speak to you.

Life was just becoming good for you... so why did this have to happen?

You both had just recently taken in Isha a while ago and were basically treating her as your child. You saw the way she healed Jinx and made her feel more alive. It meant the world to you to see her that way. And for a while, you perhaps even foolishly believed that things would go well now.

You thought about running away together before, in the darkness of your room, as Isha napped in your arms. You remembered turning to her and whispering, "Let's run away. Let's leave on one of the skyship and go somewhere far away... just the three of us." And you saw it in her gentle gaze, the way she considered it... but it meant nothing in the face of a war she had to fight in.

Looking back on it, you should've maybe seen the signs and listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut when the both of them left for a special mission she refused to tell you about. It was for your own safety she'd say and who were you to intervene or deny her orders? She was always so much more intelligent and stronger than you. You just blindly trusted her. You believed she'd return soon just as she's promised... but she never did.

Neither of them did.

It was radio silence for the longest time. And you hadn't moved an inch from the small apartment Jinx considered to be her second hideout with you and your kid. Not when the war broke out, not when there was a call for arms, not when you peeked out for the barricaded windows at the creepy, white machines that slinked right past your hiding space.

And now you wonder, in the haze of uncertainty and panic, if the balloon you had momentarily seen soar through the sky was her after all. Had the denial misled you into a false sense of foolish security? Did you really, fully believe she'd be back for you? That she'd bring Isha home safely and run away at last? Yes. Yes, you did. You believed it... but received a charred part of one of her bombs in return. A confirmation that it was truly over for the family and future you had built together for the shortest amount of time.

"... leave. Please leave. I can't bare looking at you." You gasped out in-between heaving breaths, unable to stand Vi's presence any longer. Everyone was making you feel sick. What's the point of being a savior if you die? What's the point of seeing a hero if you leave behind what you love the most to suffer in agony?

You had waited so long at this wooden door to your once warm home for their return. For her return. Yet all you were greeted with was the one thing that was left of her. A sister she did still love deep down more than life itself. You, however, could only feel rage.

"Wait. She told me to loom out for you. I can't-" "-I said leave! If it wasn't for you, then we could have left and been happy!" You yelled out, suddenly not caring about hurting anyone's feelings anymore. And god did it hurt. It hurt so much. Because Vi still had a piece of her in her. But it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough in her and Isha's absence.

Slamming the door into Vi's face and locking it for good measure, you finally fall to your knees and clutch the last, charred thing you had of her to your chest, sobbing. You drowned out Vi's yells and bangs against the door whilst you did so, deciding that if you were in agony, then she didn't deserve any consolation either.

Your worst nightmare had come to fruition, just as the last skyship of the day flew into the sky and left its past behind.

[aquaticmercy]

Safe and Sound

Summary : You have been cursed. Agatha will stop at nothing to destroy the witch that cursed you.

Pairing : Agatha Harkness x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : obsessive love, wrath

Requested by : Anon

Word count : 1.3k

Note : I love me a very protective, ancient, goddess-like Agatha. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

The wood crackled softly underneath the fire, but its warmth barely reached you as you sat huddled on the edge of the couch.

Your mind was unclear, scattered.

The curse hovered over you like a dark fog, a force that grew heavier with each passing hour. The bone-chilling coldness it brought wasn't just physical—it was deeper, as if Morgan le Fay’s magic had latched onto your very soul.

It drained your strength, making you feel fragile. Small. Weak. 

Across the room, Agatha stood motionless, staring into the flames with an intensity of a thousand dying suns. Her dark hair fluttered over her shoulders, blending into the shadows that seemed to flock around her like sheep to her shepherd. 

She had not said a word, not yet. She didn’t need to. 

You hadn’t wanted it to come to this. You hadn’t wanted to bring this darkness into her life. But le Fay— that ancient, cruel witch, had seen right through your connection to Agatha and decided to exploit it. She had marked you—cursed you—because she knew what you meant to Agatha.

She knew that by targeting you, she could hurt the one witch who had dared defy her word in the last century.

You could feel the curse now, curling around your heart like a vice, slowly tightening. The magic was vile, twisted. It was Morgan le Fay’s way of hurting you because she knew it would hurt Agatha.

The longer it stayed, the weaker you became, and the darker your nightmares were. Last night, you had nearly strangled Agatha because you could not tell what was real or fake. 

You had tried to hide it from her— it had been a week since the nightmares started. 

You hadn’t wanted her to see how deeply it was affecting you. You knew what she was capable of—what kind of cruel devastation she could unleash to the world when she was threatened. 

But Agatha was not a fool. She had sensed it the moment the curse had begun to take hold.

She had sensed her on you. And it made her sick to her core.

“How dare she lay a hand on you?” Agatha had whispered when she first realized, her voice laced with a venomous rage that you had heard only a few times before. 

The question had been rhetorical, a statement of disbelief, as if le Fay’s audacity alone was enough to spark something primal in Agatha. You had tried to explain, to tell her that it was under control, that you could handle it. But Agatha had only stared at you with those ancient, knowing eyes, and the look in them—the burning fury—made it clear that this wasn’t something you could fight on your own.

Now, she stood like a statue, her gaze still fixed on the fire. But her magic was everywhere, humming in the air, vibrating beneath your skin. 

It was raw. A feral power.

The longer she stood there in silence, the more you could feel it building, charging the air around you.

“Agatha,” you whispered. Your voice was barely audible over the raging crackle of the fire.

You saw her shoulders tense, the barely restrained power rippling through her body. When she finally did face you, her eyes were almost glowing, that familiar dark violet light that hinted to the depths of her power. 

“How long?” she asked softly, her voice deceptively calm. 

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I didn’t want to—”

She cut you off, finishing the sentence for you. “To burden me?” Agatha’s voice was sharp, cutting you off before you could finish. She stepped toward you, her gaze locked onto yours. Her voice softened just a little bit “You think you’re a burden to me?”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. There was a raging storm in her eyes. The way her power seemed to gather around her, made it impossible to speak.

Her lips curled into a dangerous smile, but there was no humor in it. Only raw, unyielding protectiveness. “My love,” she whispered, her voice dark and low, “there's nothing in this world nor any other, that would stop me from protecting you. Do you understand that?”

You felt tears prick at your eyes, the darkness you felt inside you too much to contain. The curse had been eating away at you, leaving you feeling weak, afraid, and distant to your love. 

But here, standing in front of you, was Agatha, burning with a passion so fierce, so powerful, that it almost hurt to look at her. She had lived for centuries—endured betrayals, losses, and unimaginable pain—but here she was, ready to destroy anyone who threatened you.

“I didn’t want to make you… lose control,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling. You didn’t want to see her unravel, to see the darkness she so often kept hidden come roaring to the surface because of you.

You weren’t protecting her, or yourself. You were protecting the world from her. 

Agatha’s eyes softened for a brief moment

Her hand reached out to cup your face, her thumb gently stroking your cheek. 

“Lose control?” she echoed you incredulously. Her voice was softer now but no less intense. “Darling, you are the only thing in this world that grounds me. Without you, I am ruined. If Morgan le Fay thinks she can tear us apart, then I need her to understand what she’s dealing with.”

Her fingers brushed against your forehead, and you felt a surge of warmth, her magic wrapping around you, pushing back the icy tendrils of le Fay’s curse. It was like a blanket of safety, of love.

“She will regret this,” Agatha continued. Her breath hitched, her tone darkening once again. “I will tear her magic apart piece by piece. I tear her into pieces if she even looks at you again.”

You shivered at the intent in her words, but it wasn’t fear that made your heart race. It was the overwhelming feeling of being loved by someone so powerful, so ancient, that the very universe seemed to bow at her feet. 

Agatha wasn’t just your protector. She was a force of nature that would stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and Agatha’s gaze softened again, her thumb wiping them away with tender care. 

“Shh,” she whispered, pulling you into her arms, holding you close against her chest. You could hear her heart beating, steady and strong, and it grounded you in a way nothing else could. “I’ve got you, my love. You’re safe.”

You buried your face in her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender. The curse still lingered, but it felt distant now. Agatha’s presence alone was keeping it at bay.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper against her skin.

“I know,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “But you don’t need to be.”

Her words were like a cure to your restless soul, soothing the fear that had been gnawing at you for days. 

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you. “You are mine,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “And I will move heaven and earth to protect you.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of her words settle deep within you. There was nothing Agatha wouldn’t do for you, no magic too dark she wouldn’t wield, no battle too bloody she wouldn’t fight. You were her everything, and in her arms, you knew that no curse, no ancient witch, could ever truly harm you.

As the night wore on and the fire dwindled to embers, Agatha held you close under the soft glow of candlelight. Her fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your skin, a silent reminder that you were under her protection. You could feel the hum of her magic around you, warding off the curse that lurked in the shadows of your being.

Agatha’s voice was a soft murmur in the quiet, a promise woven into the very air. “I’ll find Morgan le Fay,” she said, her lips brushing against yours ever so gently. “And when I do, she will beg for mercy that will never come.”

You sighed, nuzzling closer into her warmth. You were hers, and she was yours—bound by a force that no curse could ever break.

-end

[asharasasylum]

Pretty Baby II ♡  Rafe Cameron x Step/Adopted!Sister Reader

author's note: Thank you for the love on part 1 and as promised here is part 2. Please really read the warnings with this one. warnings: Dark. Smut. Dub con. Abuse. Character death (kind of). Violence. Mentions of past Child Abuse. . Angst. Trauma responses. Obsession from both ends. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Toxic relationship!! Aged up characters. Step-cest. 18+ MDNI

People that love you shouldn't treat you like that but you don't know any better.

It was three nights later that Rafe finally decided he was in the wrong. In all those days, you had barely left your room once. You avoided all dinners and social occasions, making up some poor excuse that you were feeling sick. On the odd occasion you did have to venture downstairs, your neck was always covered. 

You had been extra quiet as you ventured to the kitchen at night, just wanting to catch a bit of fresh air and a glass of water. 

When he found you that night, you hadn’t even heard him creeping through the kitchen door but you had felt his presence like you always did. 

“I don’t want you here,” you told him even though it wasn’t the honest truth. 

“I know,” you heard him say behind you. “I messed up really badly, I get that.” 

He made his way closer, slipping in next to you and you did nothing to push him away. 

“Please talk to me,” he whispered, almost pleading. “I can’t stand us not talking.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you responded, feeling your cheeks already wet with tears. “You really scared me the other night, Rafe.” 

“I know, I-” He bit back on words, taking a steady breath as you finally turned to face him. His eyes dropped after a few seconds of looking at you, backing away as he shook his head. You know that he noticed it, the purple hand print that sat on your neck. “I fucked up.” 

“I can’t do this anymore, Rafe.” You had made up your mind over the last few days, you were sure of it. “It’s not fair.” The words came out on a soft cry, one that allowed you to still speak. 

And for once Rafe seemed to be listening.  

“I’ve decided I’m going back to therapy,” you tried not to choke on your words, swallowing your cries as you stared at him. “And I can’t talk to you anymore.” 

Rafe was quick to find words, almost becoming frantic at the realisation you were slipping away. “You can’t-” He shook his head, brows creasing at you. “You can’t leave me. You’re all I have.” He moved to get closer to you, tears coating his eyes as he stood in your way. “I’ll never hurt you again, I swear.” 

“It’s not just you that scared me,” you confessed to him, thinking back to the bonfire. “When I saw you with that girl.” Your stomach twisted at the thought, remembering how she touched Rafe. “You don’t get how it made me feel. I think if I saw you touch her again-” Your words felt strangled in your throat as your hands reached out to grip onto Rafe’s top. The thought crossed your mind and you felt disgust and rage wash over your body. “If I saw her touch you again.” 

“It’s okay,” he tried to soothe you but you were quick to fight him off, taking a few steps back. 

“No.” You shook your head. “I’d do something Rafe. I’d never forgive myself.” 

“I’ll never see her again, I swear.” His hand cupped your face, twisting your face up to look up at him. “You can’t leave me.” 

You tried pushing him off, but his hands moved, grabbing onto your hips to keep you from going. 

He was a mess, repeating himself over and over again. His broken voice was making it harder and harder for you to slip away. But as his grip tightened to bruising and you felt instinct take over as you shoved him away. 

“You’re hurting me,” you hissed, finally prying him off of you. 

You barely looked at him as you passed him, too fearful that you’d find yourself going back at one little look at his face. It wasn’t what you wanted, you tried to tell yourself, swearing to yourself that you’d never crawl into his bed again. 

It was only minutes later that you found yourself breaking that same promise. But instead of crawling in beside Rafe, it was him that was pushing you onto the mattress, his frame following yours. 

You weren’t exactly sure how he had managed it, not remembering the last few minutes except from those pretty three words that were falling from his lips. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, eyes wide with excitement as you stared up at him. 

“I love you,” he breathed, the words hitting your lips. 

He climbed on top of you as your frame connected with the bed, hovering his body over yours. There was something sinister in his smile as he looked down at you, enjoying the way you completely submitted to him like no other. Your wide eyes and soft pout of your lips, completely prey-like. You could tell he enjoyed you like this, his grin growing as he leaned into you.

“You love me?” 

“Yes.” 

Rafe cupped the side of your face as his nose touched yours. His breath fanned across your face, eliciting a cold shiver down your body. The smile had dropped now, instead his lips were parted slightly as he waited for you to make the next move.

“Your turn,” he whispered. 

“I love y-” 

Your words were muffled on his lips as he softly pressed them against yours, catching your mouth in a heated kiss that had your eyes slipping closed and head falling backwards. 

Rafe followed you, pushing you further down into the sheets as he pushed himself completely on top of you. He was slow in his movements, just enjoying the way your mouths moved as one. But it wasn’t long before he had himself comfortable between your legs, his own body becoming flush against yours. 

Within seconds you were needing more than just his kisses and his soft touch. The slight whine that left your lips telling him that and Rafe was more than happy to oblige. 

His hands were all over you within seconds, lips making the journey down as he started to suck and nibble against your chest. It had you breathless for him, eyes unable to stop watching the way he cherished every part of your body. His tongue made your skin wet and his hands moulded your body to his liking. 

A gasp left your lips as his fingers trailed the line of your shorts, playing with it as he pulled the cloth flush against your pussy. 

“Rafe, please,” the words fell from your lips, unable to hide your desire for him now. 

That’s all Rafe needed as his fingers tore the shorts down your legs, leaving them hanging off your ankle for you to fling off. 

It was his fingers that touched you first, dipping into your folds as he pushed the slickness around. Your thighs squirmed about, ready to close around his hand but with both hands Rafe kept them open. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Rafe chuckled, his hot breath blowing against your sensitive cunt. “I need you to keep your legs open for me, can you do that?” 

You nodded and he awarded you with a kiss to your clit. Then his fingers were back again, tracing circles against your clit with the lightest of presses to tease you. Even with your whines he didn’t pick up his pace, instead he replaced his fingers with his tongue licking against your clit slowly while his fingers reached further down. 

It was sending you into overdrive, his two fingers pushing into you slowly, massaging your walls with each thrust. He was opening you up, adding a third finger which had you moaning his name softly. This drove him to give you more, pushing his fingers in deeper and pressing them harder into you. 

Your hand reached down now, trying to grab onto anything and when Rafe noticed he placed his free hand into yours. He held onto it, allowing you to grip him as harshly as you needed to ground yourself. 

Your stomach twisted with your impending orgasm. There was an intensity with it that you had never felt before, a feeling you could never bring yourself to. With each push of his fingers and flick of his tongue, you could feel yourself getting closer to it. Before you knew it, your hips were bucking up into him and his name was falling out of your mouth in incoherent mumbles. 

The pleasure took a hold of you, hitting you in waves that Rafe wouldn’t let you escape. Even as your thighs wriggled to push him away, he kept himself buried between them, keeping you hooked against him. 

It wasn’t until Rafe knew you were finished, cunt still twitching from the onslaught it just had encountered, that he finally slowed his movements before they came to a full halt. 

Then he was on top of you again, yanking his clothes off while you caught your breath. You didn’t even have time to register that you were both bare and pressed against each other until his lips were wrapped around yours. The taste of you had you sinking into his touch further, happily wrapping your legs around his hips. 

It wasn’t until you could feel him lining himself up against you that you took a second to realise how far you were both going. It was all you ever wanted and it suddenly felt surreal as you felt his cock slide against your folds, coating it in your wetness. 

“Rafe-” 

Your words were cut off by his lips once again and eventually you forgot what you wanted to say, completely entranced by the feel of him on you.  

You gasped into his mouth when he finally slipped into your walls. Even through the slight tinge of pain, you could feel an immense amount of pleasure that had your walls sucking him back in with every slow torturous thrust. 

“You feel devine,” he groaned into your mouth, gripping onto your hips to keep himself close to you. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this.” 

Once the pain faded, you started to relax and your hips started to move on their own to meet his. He was smiling against your lips at this, pushing himself in deeper to appease you even more. 

But that wasn’t enough for either of you, Rafe could tell by the whiny moans that left your lips. His hand reached to pull your legs up, pressing your ankles down to your ears. From this angle, he had you biting down screams for him as he made you feel fuller in ways you didn’t know were possible. You weren’t the only one feeling the intensity of the pleasure and you could see that with how Rafe’s eyes were completely blown out and you could hear it in his sharp inhales. 

“Rafe, it’s too much,” you let out, basically pleading for some sort of mercy. 

Your nails were digging into him as your hands gripped onto his biceps, trying to ground yourself. 

All Rafe did was chuckle at this and instead of slowing down, he went faster picking up a brutal pace that made any word from your mouth an incoherent sob. Your mind became fogged with the presence of him and all you could do was allow your walls to cling onto him in pure desperation. 

“I can feel how close you are,” Rafe said, lips pecking at your jaw. “Can you feel it, baby?” 

Your lips parted but no words came out, so all you could do was nod and bite your lip in embarrassment at how you were squeezing him so tightly. You knew you had made a mess on the couch beneath you, probably ruined the fabrics of the cushions but nothing could make you care as Rafe set his eyes on you again. It was like he was watching you like he did at the restaurant but this time the curiosity had faded and it was filled with something else. 

He was watching every noise fall from your lips, every contour of your face as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Before you know it, he’s sinking down to capture your lips with his as he curves his hips into yours. 

“I’m not letting you go after this,” he whispered into your lips. “Never-” His lips moved to your neck, pressing open mouth kisses to the bruise he had created. “-Ever. I’ve got you now.” 

You didn’t know if the words were to assure him or you and while you wanted to ask, you couldn’t bring yourself to even think about it. Not when the feeling in your stomach snapped again and your walls were fluttering around him. After that you didn’t know what was up and down, all you could do was look up at Rafe pathetically for reassurance. 

He gave you that reassurance when he began to twitch inside of you, your own orgasm sending him over the edge. Your cunt clenched around him, having him twitching inside of you as he began to shake. His head fell between the crook of your neck as he held onto you. His hips moved sloppily against you as he pumped every single drop of himself into you. 

While you knew it was bad, letting him cum inside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you were feeling like this, still holding onto him to catch your breath. 

Rafe collapsed on top of you when he was finished, head resting next to yours as he kept himself buried inside of you. There were a million things you wanted to say and ask but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you just let him rest like that against you until his head moved to rest against yours. 

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look like he wanted to say anything. Instead his lips parted and pieces of his blonde hair tickled your face before his lips were on yours again. He wanted more and as you kissed him back you were willing to give him it. You didn’t care what it was, you just cared that it was him. 

You had awoken to Rafe waking you up, his hands shaking you as his voice suddenly started to make sense in your ear. 

You opened your eyes, blinking at the bright light as you stirred awake. 

He seemed cold, barely looking at you as he told you to get up. 

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked, seemingly confused as you sat up in bed. 

“You need to get out,” he told you, yanking the sheets away from the both of you. “Like now.” 

“What? Why?” You questioned. 

“Dad could literally walk in at any moment,” he hissed, stepping out of the bed. 

Before you knew it your pyjamas were being thrown into your face, Rafe becoming more agitated by the second. 

“Do you need me to get you dressed or something?” 

“Are you being serious?” You couldn’t even hide your disbelief, his harsh words taking you by surprise. It shouldn’t have really because this is the Rafe you really knew. 

You followed him, snatching your clothes from the bed and climbing into them as quickly as you could. You wanted out of there, already feeling the tears sticking to your throat that you really didn’t want him to see. 

“I get your scared of Dad but fucking hell, Rafe.” 

“Last night was a mistake.” 

You spun around to face him, blinking at your wet eyes as you tried to grasp what he had just said. 

His lips were posed in a thin line and his eyes fell onto the floor, barely able to look at you.

You laughed. You actually stood there and laughed as you said, “Right.” You nodded. “Last night will be a mistake until it isn’t right. Until you can’t stand the sight of me with some other guy or daddy is mean to you and you need someone to take your anger out on.” 

He looked up then, face twisting into anger as his gaze settled on you. 

But the laughter soon died as you held in your sobs, fighting off tears. You felt pathetic as you stood there and stared at him, still hoping he would change his mind. 

Instead he just titled his head, eyes twitching as he continued to glare at you, clearly waiting for you to leave. 

“You’re sick,” you spat at him. “You’re wrong inside and no one can fix that.” 

Days turned into a whole week without even stepping foot outside of your bedroom unless it was the crack of the early morning. You couldn’t risk the night anymore, never knowing when Rafe was lurking in the shadows. 

It wasn’t like you were exactly avoiding him all together because if he really wanted to see you his door was next to yours. But you weren’t exactly wanting to be caught off guard by him either, knowing how easily you’d manage to slip at the sight of him. 

But you were sure that Rafe was avoiding you and this is the first time that he did anything like this. No phone calls, no texts, not even a quiet whisper through your bedroom door. It wasn’t like him and that worried you. 

Yet like the pathetic person you were, you lie in your bed waiting for him to call. 

Only he doesn’t come knocking but your sister does.

“Y/N,” Sarah’s voice called from the doorway.

She didn’t wait for an answer before slipping into your dark room. You felt her before you heard her again, the bed dipping under her weight as she crawled in beside you. 

“I’m worried about you,” she whispered, pressing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We’re all worried. Rose and Dad might believe you’re sick but I don’t think it’s that. Even now they’re starting to get suspicious.” 

You stirred slightly, not really sure on the right words to say but letting her know you were listening. 

“Dad wants to call the doctor and I don’t think you want that.” 

“No,” you said, twisting your body to face her. “I don’t need a doctor.” 

“I don’t want to ask because when I do you get really defensive.” Sarah’s voice croaked at this and you could tell she was worried. “But has something happened with Rafe?” 

Your whole body tensed at that, fingers reaching for the light bruise around your neck that you knew she couldn’t see. 

“You don’t have to tell me. But I do think you should start spending some more time with me.” 

You chuckled at that, smiling at her through the darkness. “I don’t want to be the annoying sister that constantly tries to hang out with you.” 

“You wouldn’t be annoying,” she instantly came to your defence. “And besides all the pogues like you. I think if you got to spend a bit more time with them, you’d like them too.” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, thinking it over in your head. 

In reality you both knew it wouldn’t happen, Rafe would rather see you dead than hanging out with Sarah and her friends. But it was a nice thought and it was nice to feel cared about by someone other than Rafe. 

“Sarah.” 

“Yes.” 

“Will you stay with me?” You asked, staring at her through the haze of darkness. 

You could see the smallest nod as she answered you. “Yeah. Of course.”  

You twisted your body round at that and Sarah got under the covers, crawling into the space beside you. 

There was something about the open water that calmed you. It gave you a sense of peace in your mind, your body too focused on fighting the tide or working with it, that you couldn’t think of anything else. 

A late afternoon swim had been just what you needed when a week turned into two weeks and Rafe had somewhat vanished from your life. 

You were driving yourself crazy, constantly thinking that if you hadn’t let him fuck you the other night that things would be still be the same. But did you really want things to stay the same. 

You found yourself fighting with these thoughts once again as soon as you climbed back onto the boat, thinking about diving right back into the open water. But you know it would be stupid. 

You didn’t expect anyone to be on the boat when you got back on but as you stepped back in, you could hear another voice. 

A female one. 

You followed it, stepping round a corner to see a pair of sandals stepping through the door. 

“Rafe,” she called out, before her  eyes landed on you. 

You recognised her from the other night, remembering those hands linking themselves around Rafe’s neck. The thought made you sick and as you stared at her plump lips, your mind could only wonder where they had also been. 

“Oh snap,” she said, noticing you drying yourself off. “Out for a late night swim.” She laughed slightly as if this was some funny joke. 

“Yeah,” you simply responded, raising a brow in her direction. 

“Rafe normally hangs out here,” she answered your unasked question, her smile fading. “I was just trying to drop by.” 

“He’s not here,” you told her with a shrug, turning away. You hoped that would be the last of it but she continued to stand there as if waiting for you to say something. “Can I help you?” 

“Are you sure he isn’t here?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at you as if she didn’t believe you. 

“Yeah,” you gave her a forced grin. “Why would I lie about my brother being here?” 

She rolled her eyes as she went to turn away, muttering something under her breath. 

You felt it then, something that was only simmering under your skin at the sight of her that was now burning as it coursed through your body. Your whole body tensed as you narrowed your gaze at her asking, “Do I know you?” 

“What?” She turned around, blinking in what you were sure was disbelief. 

“I mean you come onto my dad’s boat looking for my brother,” you explained, crossing your arms over your chest. “And I’m nice to you but you have this attitude about you that I can’t quite understand.” 

Her lips twisted into a smile at this as she laughed. “I mean you should know me. Me and Rafe are dating.” 

“He’s never mentioned you.” You shrugged. 

“Sure he hasn’t.” She nodded, and you could sense the animosity in her tone. But there was something else as her eyes grew wet and you almost felt sorry for her. “I mean why would he mention me to you.” 

“Because I’m his sister,” you stated with a grin as if it was the most obvious thing. 

Her face dropped at that and she fought to keep her tears at bay as she looked at you.

For a second you felt terrible, realising you weren’t really being fair. It was Rafe after all, if he had a girlfriend you were sure he’d make sure you never knew about it. 

But only for a second because when her lips parted to speak again, even you were surprised. 

“But you’re like obsessed with him,” she said, glowering at you. “You’re the reason he never turns up to see his friends. The reason he can’t ever hang out with me. Because he always has to come back to his little sister. You always so desperately need him.” 

“Right,” you replied, swallowing as your fingers started to pinch at your skin. You couldn’t distinguish how you were feeling, you couldn’t place it. All you knew was that you desperately needed her to stop talking. 

But she wouldn’t. 

“You know me and some of the other girls have come to the conclusion that you have a crush on him,” she laughed cruelly, spitting vicious words you knew were attended to make you upset. “I mean you’re not actually related and with the amount of fucking issues you have I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

“My issues,” you said, laughing dryly along with her. 

She wasn’t completely wrong but what did she really know about your issues? What did she understand? 

“That’s funny.” You probably seemed oddly calm to her as you stared down at the ground, pinching at the skin of your arm in hopes it would calm you down. 

“It is?” She asked as if she was waiting for something else. 

Only you went back to drying your hair, offering her small smile as you nodded. 

“You’re so fucking weird,” she whispered, turning away from you again. 

It wasn’t like you to get like this. You were emotional, that was one thing but only when you were with Rafe. You’d never touched or hit anyone except him. Only he managed to bring that volatile side of you out. 

You were a sweet girl, you tried to tell yourself, as you heard her body hitting the boat floor.  almost everyone said so. 

But there she was lying there, unconscious by your feet and all you could do was stare at her. Your eyes only widened when you noticed the wooden lamp in your hand, instantly dropping it to the floor. 

You had hit her. 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you fell backwards, stumbling into the only room you knew where to hide. Even perched into the corner of the bathroom you could still see the image of her in your mind. 

You couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t like something wedged in your pipes or water clogged in your airways. It was more that there was hands wrapping around your throat, forcing you to fight for air. And you did, gasping for breath as you scratched at the skin around your throat becoming panicked. 

Nothing seemed to be working and yet you didn’t even seem to be dying either. Just stuck there as if in some sort of horrendous loop. 

You didn’t know how long you were there until Rafe found you. You didn’t even know how long he had been on the boat for, only realising he was there until his face was inches away from yours and his hands were holding your wrists close to his chest. 

You were trembling, still dressed in your swimsuit as he held onto your arms. Tears clogged your eyes and your cries seemed to clog your ears as you could barely make out what he was saying as he stared at you. 

It wasn’t till he called out your name did you finally manage to snap out of it. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” you cried, shaking your head. You tried to breathe, taking long gasps of breaths as you focused on his blue eyes. “What about me, Rafe?” You leaned in, your sobs tearing through your body as you said, “Who’s going to take care of me?” 

You didn’t see the way Rafe looked before he yanked you in towards him. But you felt the way he pulled you in, holding you to his chest as you made a mess of his t-shirt. He didn’t seem to care, hushing you with his voice before he finally told you, “I’ll take care of it.” 

Your breathing had calmed down somewhat before he pulled you away from his chest and pressed his forehead to yours. He pushed the wet strands of your hair from your face and cupped your face and like the mess you were, you sighed and relaxed into his touch. 

“I’m going to take care of you, I swear it,” he promised, with featherlight kisses to your damp face. “I promise, I won’t leave you like that again.” 

“You promise?” You asked, peering up at him. 

“I promise,” he answered, still holding you close together. “Nothing is going to happen to you.” 

You stayed like that for a while, Rafe cradling you in his arms as he soothed you. Nothing but you two, the salty smell of the sea and the mess you made in the other room to keep you company. 

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

AN: There's something about a man cleaning readers mess that just gets to me.

[megameatymatt]

Step By Step - Matt Sturniolo

summary: Matt finds out about y/n's ED relapse

WARNINGS: e@t!ng d!sorder, swearing, throwing up, gagging, crying, self-hatred/insecure, feelings of hopelessness, overthinking

If you or anyone you know is dealing with an ED or substance abuse, call or text:  1-800-662-4357.

word count: 766

requested?: nope

A/N: I was feeling sad so all of you must suffer with me. Feedback, interaction, and requests are appreciated! ok bye

Pink: Y/n

Blue: Matt

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

Matt knows you've dealt with an eating disorder in the past. He wasn't there during it, but you've talked to him about it and answered some of his questions. It didn't make you any less perfect in his eyes. To him, all that mattered was you being okay. But you weren't.

Four years later, you feel like you're falling back into it all over again—all the progress you've made, discarded within just a couple weeks.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wish someone different stared back at you. You pinch at the skin on your thighs, stomach, and arms and wish the fat would disappear.

You sob silently. How can someone hate themselves so much, How couldn't you hate yourself so much, Y/n? Look at you, just look at you! You're lucky matt even stays. Thoughts circle around your head like a halo. Leaving you in nothing but shatters.

You walk to the toilet, shove a finger down your throat, and gag

The cycle begins.

Two weeks later, you walk into your kitchen to find Matt standing there. "Good morning, angel, I'm making pancakes. How many do you want." The thought of putting food in your mouth makes you sick. "Um, Matt, I'm not hungry." Matt frowns. "You love my pancakes, baby, what's the matter?" you shuffle through your brain, thinking of an excuse. "I'm full from last night, Y'know, the pizza." You, Matt, nick, and Chris had had a movie night. The boys ordered pizza and snuggled up on the couch as you all giggled.

"I watched you the whole night, Y/n, I didn't see you take a single slice," he says, flipping a pancake. "In fact i haven't seen you eat much at all lately, You alright?" Eat? How can he suggest such a thing? doesn't he want me to be pretty? i wanna be good enough to wear a bikini. I wanna be good enough to wear skin tight dresses, i wanna be good enough for him.

You shake away these thoughts trying your best to keep your composure. "I'm good, just give me one okay?" you say letting out a sigh. He smiles "Comin' right up princess" He hands you a plate with a pancake, syrup, whipped cream and some strawberries. Matt has already started digging into his own plate.

just a few bites Y/n, just let Matt think you're okay

You pick up your fork and knife with shaky hands, cut yourself a piece and quickly shove it it your mouth. Your body wants to immediately reject it, but you take a few more bites.

As soon as you swallow your first bite, it flies back up your throat. You get up and run to the bathroom. Matt follows you with concern. "Are my pancakes that bad?" he says, running after you. But as he walks into the bathroom. He notices how frail you've become. Tears are running down your eyes, and he finally realizes. You finish puking and flush the toilet and lean against the wall, almost lifelessly.

A few tears escape Matt's eyes. How could he be so stupid? how didn't he put it together? It was so obvious. He could've helped you. Why would you do this?

He runs out of the bathroom to get a glass of cold water, then quickly comes back to hold you. The only thing that could escape from his mouth was "Why"? "Just look at me, Matt, I hate it, I hate my body so fucking much, Matt, you don't even understand," you say, trying your best to yell, tears running down your face.

Matt is completely taken aback "But you're so beautiful, baby, You're hurting yourself. You were doing so good." You sob in Matt's arms, barely able to speak. "I-I'm sorry, Matt. I just wanted to be pretty." Your words felt like a knife in Matt's stomach.

''I tried so hard to fight it, Matt, I didn't want to go down this path again. I promised you I wouldn't. The words spill out like vomit, "But I did it anyway, Matty." You whine, "And it's worse than before. I'm so ashamed Matt. I'm sorry i'm putting you through this" Tears rush you your face, and you're shaking uncontrollably. The knife in Matts stomach only gets pushed deeper and deeper. "I'm sorry i never noticed Y/n, i'm so fucking stupid. The signs were so clear, i could've helped you." He wipes the tears off your cheeks. "But i'm gonna help you now baby." "I can't Matt" "we're gonna do it together okay? Step by step, Y/n. We'll be just fine"

Taglist: @sturnobsessedwh0re

[qwimblenorrisstan]

The Clandestine Culinarian Pt. 4 (Finale) | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After everything fell apart at Rita’s, Azriel is still recovering from the poison, and you give him an ultimatum. Choose between you and Elain. Months of silence ensue, before his choice becomes clear, at last.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of poisoning, attempted sexual assault, illness, death (background characters), arguing, violence, an extraordinarily sassy rhys, but it all ends okay

A/N: If y’all crucified me for this being so late I wouldn’t even blame you…I’m so sorry for the wait but I hope this is a good way to finish off this series, and I am planning on doing maybe like epilogue more about their relationship, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist

The entire situation had been a mess, Cassian was pissed off, Azriel was still in Madja’s tent, Nesta and her girls a drunk mess, stumbling home, Feyre dealing with Elain, and you at the House of Wind.

You trained until your body refused to move anymore it was so sore and hurting, and then you slept, ate, and repeated, trying hard just not to think. You didn’t want to think about how Elain had, for some reason, tried to keep Azriel away by poisoning him of all things so he forgot about you, or how she hadn’t even thought about the potential consequences of it.

It made you angry, foolishly angry, that she’d done something to your mate. The bond wasn’t accepted, but it was still there, lying dormant and flaring up at any little thing. You could barely feel any sign of life from his end, and you hated to admit how much that worried you.

But you wouldn’t go check on him, not when he hadn’t cared about you for all those months. Even if Elain had poisoned him, he still chose her over you before that, and he could have her now. He could have his sorry-ass excuse of a partner, the female that poisoned him.

You had been lying in bed, half-asleep, when your door creaked open and you heard heavy footsteps. You were standing up in a second, slightly panicked, before seeing Cassian as he stood, face slightly pleading and serious. He gave a sheepish smile that was strained when he saw you so frantic.

“What could you possibly want at this hour?”

You asked, rubbing your eyes as you let yourself relax into the bed again. For all you knew, he was only up this late for midnight snacks. He moved closer until he was standing beside your bed. He hesitated, swallowing before speaking.

“It’s Az. He’s..he’s sick, Madja says he’ll be alright, but he wants to see you.”

Your eyes narrowed, and he almost winced at that, moving to sit on the bed beside you.

“He doesn’t want to see Elain? Shocking.”

You replied, not bothering to hide the bitterness in your tone. Cassian’s warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, shifting you so you had to look at him. He gave you a begging look.

“I’m not going to try to apologize for him, but even if you’re pissed at him, which I would be too, at least be there for him. You two could smooth things over in the future, but you can’t go back and be there for him if you aren’t now.”

He said, hand leaving you as he got up from the bed, it creaking before springing back up to its normal height, and he walked out of your room. You knew he was right. If you weren’t there for him now, you couldn’t undo that, and he was sure to remember.

With a grumbled sigh, you got up and locked your door, throwing some clothes on, running a brush through your hair, and splashing some water on your face, before begrudgingly walking to the outside Azriel’s room, where he was sure to be. Getting yourself ready, you sighed, before walking in, looking annoyed and pissed, but at least you were there.

Azriel was in his bed, looking just about the same as you’d seen him before. Pale, shaky, sweating, and shivering slightly. He looked sickly, for sure. There was a pile of tonics in the corner, with directions on them, probably from Madja for the shadowsinger. The shadows were agitated but also sickly, slower and thinner than usual, their wispy forms trying to pull at you to take you to him.

His eyes opened as he heard you sit in the armchair next to the bed, watching him with a cool expression, trying to stay neutral but failing as some of your anger bled through. He shifted to his side, blurry hazel eyes peering up at you.

“Y/N-“

He began, his voice slightly raspy, but not like usual. Your sharp voice cut him off.

“Don’t. The only reason I’m here is because your brother guilt-tripped me into it.”

Not entirely a lie, not entirely the truth. His eyes lost some of their intensity as if they’d been expecting that. Right when you were about to speak, the door clicked open again, and you saw Elain peek around the corner, eyes widening when she saw you there, and heard the growl that came from you.

You huffed, standing up.

“You can choose this bitch who tried to poison you, or you can choose your me, not because I’m your mate or any other bullshit, but just for me. Your decision, but I won’t sit here and let myself be misled by an immature Illyrian who doesn’t know what he wants.”

You snapped at him and grabbed Elain’s wrist before she could slip away, yanking her inside and trapping her against the wall. Azriel tried to sit up, clearly alarmed and thinking you were going to hurt her, not to mention his pain and guilt.

“And you… where do I even start?”

You said, and she swallowed, opening her mouth to speak, but you cut her off.

“Sure, you had some prophecy or something that I would hurt him, but you could’ve told someone instead of almost fucking murdering him! That’s the most selfish thing I’ve seen in a-“

“That is enough.”

Azriel’s voice, weak but still authoritative, spoke. He was leaning against the closest post of his bed, standing somehow, and glaring at you. Elain slipped away before you could stop her, and you vaguely heard her shoes clicking against the hallway floor and some sniffling. She was crying. Good.

“You don’t get to decide what’s enough. She almost killed you.”

“Using poison she got from your room. Why did you even have that?”

He snapped back, and you nearly physically recoiled at that. Still so sassy for someone who nearly died mere days ago.

“I didn’t want it getting into Kier’s hands. Or anyone’s hands, for that matter.”

You hissed back, and his gaze, still a bit clouded but piercing as ever, glared down at you.

“Why not give it to Rhys? Unless you were planning a better use for it involving him.”

That was what made you shut up for a minute and just think. He thought you were trying to poison Rhys?

“What?”

You quotationed, now just genuinely confused and exasperated.

“Don’t act like I’m crazy. You worked closely with Rhys and Kier, your shop is burnt down by one of your biggest investors, and you’re brought to Night Court into the home of the High Lord and his Inner Circle with a vial of the deadliest poison in existence? I’m not an idiot.”

“Right, so you were running away from me because you thought I was trying to murder you, and not because you’re afraid to face your feelings with your mate?”

His reasoning made sense, you were afraid. But there was a reason Kier had burnt down your shop even being one of your biggest investors in it. A reason you hadn’t shared with anyone, not even your family.

“Face it. You’re suspicious.”

He said with a tone of finality, eyes burning into you even as tears welled in your own.

“Fine, you want to know why Kier burnt down my shop, you asshole? It was because I wouldn’t have sex with him. He doesn’t like being told no. And trust me, he had far worse plans with that vial than even Elain.”

You spat out, and Azriel looked genuinely surprised at that, brows furrowing in a temporary look of confusion, eyes softening, before his face hardened again.

“You’re lying.”

He said. Your hands clenched in fists as you looked around the room, finding a bowl of fruit, probably gifted by Feyre as a get-better-soon gift.

You walked over, picked up an orange, and ripping it open, shoved Azriel against the bed and forcefully pushed the orange into his throat, moving his jaw to make him chew it, and even as he gagged, you forced him to swallow it.

The mating bond, having been dormant for so long, flooded back to life now that it was accepted, whether willingly or not. And the first thing you shoved down the bond, was the memory of your truth.

*********************************************************

Business had been slow that day, customers only coming and going for basic pastries and treats that you and your family already had in stock while you made some more for the next day.

Bored out of your mind, you agreed to take the closing shift.

“I’ll be home in 5,”

You had told your older cousin as he’d left, and he’d given a shrug and gone home. At least the closing shift sometimes gave you a view of the town drunks on the streets, which was a little entertaining sometimes.

While wiping down a table, you heard the jingle of keys and the front door opening with the little bell attached to the top and you immediately whirled only to find a drunken Kier sauntering up to you, sly smirk on his face.

“What are you doing here, Kier?”

You asked in as firm a tone as you could manage. He stalked closer until you could feel his hot breath against your neck. He lowly chuckled, and you could smell the alcohol from his breath.

“I only want to play,”

He said, his voice ever so slightly slurred and his hands sliding over to hold your waist as you were backed up against a wall.

“It’s only fair since I’ve been turning a blind eye to your little shop here~”

He said, and panic shot through your veins as his hands slipped under your shirt, his mouth too close to your own. You shoved him off, freezing momentarily as he hit the ground and crumpled before you hopped onto the counter and slid off of it into the kitchen, where you grabbed a knife with shaky hands.

You couldn’t beat him in combat, you knew that, but it was at least comforting to know you had a tiny chance at self-defense.

He stumbled and got to his feet, wobbling over to you, hands on the counters for support as he scowled, glancing down at the knife as if it were just a small bug in his way.

“You know, I’m gonna need another vial soon. Wife’s been getting on my nerves, might need a new one.”

He slurred with a sloppy smirk, and you swallowed, trying to hold the knife steady.

“Get out of my shop.”

You said, trembling. He scoffed, but turned around anyway, walking unsteadily towards the door and falling into it, and as he left, he gave one last drunk scowl and chilling words.

“You’ll regret this.”

*********************************************************

“Enough.”

Azriel said, eyes staring up at you in what seemed like shock and horror combined, a hint of guilt in there too. You only looked down at him, a sort of pissed off and sad “I told you so” in your expression.

You stuck your pointer finger out at him, right beneath his collarbones, where you could feel his heart beating. The bond kept lurching with emotions and thoughts that he tried to hide, to keep locked behind that silent fort he’d built up over the centuries.

“You can make your decision, but I won’t be some damsel in distress waiting for you. It’s me or her, Azriel. Choose wisely.”

You spat, before storming out, only to find Rhys leaning against the wall outside as you slammed the door behind you. He had a raised brow on his face and a slight frown, though the usual smug smile still plastered on.

“What.”

You said, voice stiff as you glared at the High Lord.

“Easy, I’m just an innocent bystander.”

He said, raising his hands in mock innocence. In the months you’d been staying with them, you had learned that Rhysand was anything but innocent or a bystander in most, if not all situations.

“Go on, give your little advice. I know you’re dying to do so.”

You said in an exasperated tone, with a tiny hint of amusement as he smirked, and opened his mouth to speak with a dramatic wave of his hand.

“I think you should both give each other a second chance. Cassian and Nesta hated each other at first, and look at them now! Or, rather, hear them.”

He said, gesturing to the all-too-loud sounds of Nesta and Cassian enjoying their evening in the usual fashion in their room. You cringed, and he chuckled lightly.

“Seriously though, give each other a second chance. Doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it or immediately apologize, but personally, I think you two have some wonderful chemistry. I mean, the way you shoved that orange in his mouth? Spectacular-!”

“Thanks, Rhys.”

You said in a dry but also begrudgingly amused tone. Sometimes you wondered if the High Lord was really a radio host or a carnival director underneath. It would make a lot more sense than him playing the all-powerful but smug High Lord.

“Anytime, my wonderful advice is free of charge.”

He said before he was gone in half a second, winnowing probably, and you realized that he didn’t even live in the House of Wind, and he’d just been eavesdropping for fun, not even by accident.

Bastard.

You walked down the halls, eager to just rot in your bed all day, or something to distract you, when you ran into Mor, who was in a different dress today, red like usual, but it was lighter and airy, not usual for her. You raised a brow.

“Did you go shopping?”

You asked in a knowing tone, and she smiled, her eyes shining with guilt.

“It was on saaale..”

You let out a slight huff of laughter, shaking your head in amusement as you looked at the dress. It was cute, you wouldn’t deny that.

You and Morrigan hadn’t gotten along the best at first, which was quite natural considering her father had murdered more than half of your family, but things had eventually smoothed over.

“At least it’s cute. Better than whatever the hell you call those things you got the the Solstice.”

You said in an amused tone and she made a sound of mock-outrage.

“Such betrayal, when I put so much thought into it, too.”

She said, playfully shaking her head as she strode off into the halls, leaving you alone. Shopping didn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe you could stop by Feyre’s art corner too.

*********************************************************

The next few months had been miserable.

Azriel knew he fucked up. Elain had been completely moved to a different house for the time being and made no effort to contact him after the incident in his room. You were giving him a complete cold shoulder, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Most days, Cassian and Nesta were there to act as a buffer between the two of you, but tonight they were both out on a date, leaving only you, Azriel, and the shadows in the House of Wind.

Azriel didn’t think he’d ever seen you scarf your food down so fast. Just another way to get away from him. To pretend he didn’t exist.

He knew he’d said things and implied things that were wrong, so very wrong, but he’d truly believed that you had malicious intentions up until the point where you’d shoved that orange down his throat and forced him to relive what you didn’t want to. Everything made much more sense now. Why you had been so prepared for some sort of raid on the shop, or why you’d grabbed the vial of volucrae first.

He’d been an idiot. Accusing you of trying to kill the High Lord.

His shadows tugged at him, trying to pull him away to fix things.

‘Our mate is hurt. Fix her.’

They would hiss at him, agitated and physically pulling him along. Just this once, he let them. So they would see how useless it was.

You were sitting off the edge of one of the many cliffs near the House of Wind, which made sense, given the sentient home had been built on the top of many mountains. The view was pretty, and almost worth the 10,000 step trek to get up. He still remembered how Feyre had taught you how to winnow the first few days so you didn’t have to suffer through the stairs.

He silently watched for a moment, letting the silence persist even as the shadows pulled him to you, forcing him to sit down next to you. They left him, lurking beneath you and gently inching up your hands. Traitors.

“Y/N,”

He began, his voice careful, ready to back off at any moment if what he said was too much.

“What?”

You asked simply, as if he were nothing more than a bug. That made his temper flare far larger than he should’ve let it. You were the one who had shoved an orange down his throat and accepted the bond, even if not with good intentions. He’d been going insane with all sorts of primal urges and desires he didn’t even know he had anymore, and you just gave a “what?”?

Calm down, he told himself.

“I’m sorry.”

He said. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. It fell short for the way he’d left you alone at the House of Wind with only Cassian and Nesta, or the cruel words he’d spewed to you, or the things he’d accused you of. Not to mention what Elain had made him do. Rhys had shown him, and he’d been disgusted ever since.

“Are you saying that because you really are sorry, or because I’m your mate?”

You asked, finally turning to look at him, eyes stubborn as ever even though you looked like you were about to cry. The sight made his heart ache.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you, what I’ve said and done, mate or not.”

He answered truthfully as the shadows crept further along your skin, their whispered touches cold but not uncomfortable. His eyes scanned you, taking in your body language and expression. Every hint of anything was taken in and evaluated because of years of training and practice.

You only sighed, flopping back onto the mossy patch behind you, not caring what bugs might lurk there.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m sorry for being kinda bitchy.”

You begrudgingly said, he only smiled, joining you beside the moss, staring up at the sky. The stars were pretty tonight.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met another female that would shove an orange down my throat.”

He admitted in a slightly sheepish tone, which got a snort of laughter out of you, face scrunching up slightly like it always did when you laughed or smiled. He’d noticed.

Your hand was slowly enveloped by his, replacing the shadows as they wrapped around the both of you, pulling you closer until his wing was also shimmied under your back, curled around you, pulling you against him.

“It was warranted. But, I forgive you.”

You said, and he smiled, head leaning to the left against yours.

“I forgive you, too.”

He then admitted. You sighed, mind already wandering to the countless anxieties that plagued it. The future and all its potential problems.

“What’re we gonna do, Az?”

You asked, glancing over at him. He let out a hum of thought, meeting your gaze with his hazel eyes as he gently smiled.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Tags:

@lilah-asteria

@evangeline-xo

@hayrunnwr

@rcarbo1

@julesvanslutta

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark

@weekendlusting

@evergreenlark

@kdawgiedawg

@olive-main

@acourtofbatboydreams

@thelov3lybookworm

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

[blackenedsnow]

um you do requests for shadow the hedgehog right? Can we have a shadow fic with a s/o who has a extreme fear of doctors and needles so they have been negecting themselfs ecen though they are extermely sick?.. and shadow has to help them through a doctors appointment?.

trust in me

WARNING: Fear of doctors/needles (medical anxiety), mentions of illness and neglecting health

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Hi anon! Thank you so much for this heartfelt request <3 Sending so much love and care your way! Take care of yourself <333

SUMMARY: When your fear of doctors and needles causes you to neglect your health, Shadow steps in, determined to help you face your fears and get the care you need, no matter how much support it takes.

The room felt like it was shrinking. You sat on the couch, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, but even the layers didn’t help the cold sweat trickling down your back. You’d been sick for a while now, and while you could try to hide it with casual excuses, Shadow wasn’t stupid. He’d noticed.

“Enough.” His voice cut through the silence like a blade. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, Shadow fixed you with a pointed glare that only barely masked his concern. “You’re not getting any better. You need to see a doctor.”

Your chest tightened immediately. “No. I’m fine—really. I just need—”

“You need treatment,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “Don’t lie to me.”

You shrank under his gaze, your fingers gripping the blanket. “I can’t,” you whispered. “Nooo.. it’s too much. I can’t do it, Shadow.”

He softened at your admission, the sharpness in his eyes fading. Shadow wasn’t good with words, but he wasn’t heartless. He walked over and crouched in front of you, his crimson gaze locking with yours.

“I understand,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “Fear can be... overwhelming. But letting it control you? That’s not like you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “What if I panic? What if it hurts? What if—”

“Stop.” Shadow placed a gloved hand over yours, his grip reassuring but not forceful. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be there every step of the way. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak.

“Then let me help you,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

The waiting room was quiet, save for the ticking clock on the wall and the occasional rustle of a magazine being flipped. You sat stiffly in the chair, arms folded tightly across your chest, as though you could physically keep the anxiety from breaking through your skin.

Shadow sat beside you, calm as ever. His arms were crossed, one foot tapping impatiently, but his sharp red gaze kept flicking to you. “Stop bouncing your knee,” he muttered, but his voice wasn’t as gruff as usual. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

“I can’t help it,” you whispered, your voice tight. “I hate this. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“You’re here because you’re sick,” Shadow replied firmly. “If you’d gone earlier like you should have, you wouldn’t be this bad off.”

You shot him a glare, but the truth stung too much to argue. The constant fever, the coughing fits, the bone-deep exhaustion—your body had been screaming for help for weeks, but the thought of doctors and needles kept you rooted in denial. It wasn’t until Shadow had carried you out of the couch this morning, wrapped in a blanket, that you realized there was no more avoiding it.

The nurse called your name, and your stomach dropped. Shadow stood, glancing down at you. “Come on.”

Your legs felt like lead, but somehow, you followed him. The nurse led the two of you into a small, sterile room, and the faint scent of antiseptic hit your nose. You froze in the doorway. Shadow glanced over his shoulder, catching your hesitation immediately.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. His voice softened, only slightly, but it was enough to steady you. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, letting him guide you inside. The nurse took your vitals—though she had to coax you into holding still for the blood pressure cuff—and scribbled notes onto her clipboard before leaving you to wait for the doctor.

Sitting on the exam table, you curled your fingers into the edge of the paper covering it, trying not to fidget. Shadow leaned against the wall, watching you closely.

“You don’t have to look so terrified,” he said dryly. “The doctor isn’t going to attack you.”

“It feels like they will,” you muttered.

He let out a quiet “hmph,” but his gaze softened. “I’ll handle the talking. You just sit there and focus on not passing out.”

When the doctor finally entered, you tensed again, your heart pounding. She was calm and professional, asking routine questions that Shadow answered without hesitation. He rattled off your symptoms and timeline with a sharp precision that made it clear he’d been paying more attention to your health than you had.

“We’re going to need to run some tests,” the doctor said, glancing at you. “A blood draw is necessary, along with—”

“No.” The word left your mouth before you could stop it, panic flashing across your face. “I can’t—”

“They’ll do it quickly,” Shadow cut in, his tone firm. He stepped closer to you, placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. “It’s not going to kill you. You can do this.”

The doctor hesitated, looking between the two of you, then nodded. “I’ll have the nurse bring the supplies.”

You stared at Shadow, your breathing uneven. “I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice steady. “Look at me.”

You did, locking onto the crimson of his eyes. “Breathe,” he instructed. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Just like that.”

When the nurse returned, Shadow didn’t move from your side. He guided you to focus on his voice while the nurse swabbed your arm and prepared the needle. When the prick came, you flinched, but his hand was steady on your shoulder.

“It’s over,” he said quietly, the moment the needle was withdrawn. “See? You didn’t die.”

Your lips twitched at his deadpan delivery. “That was awful.”

“Maybe. But you got through it.” His gaze was unrelenting, but there was something warm in his tone that made your chest ache. “Next time, don’t wait until you’re half-dead to get help. Got it?”

You sighed but nodded. “Got it.”

Shadow smirked, his confidence unshaken. “Good."

[angelus-scripturae]

Pls pls write anything for Astarion. Like maybe an imagine, idk. I would much prefer something fluff but literally anything else is fine.

I'm starved :(

Well baby I’m gonna feed you tonight. Can’t have my lovely followers starving now can i?

Astarion Ancunin

Nightmares

Summary: You comfort Astarion after you defeat Cazador (not ascended)

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, fluff, mentions of suicidal thoughts and abuse, gn! reader, no use of y/n, no specified pronouns, (shitty writing because this is my first time writing in 2 years)

Astarion couldn’t sleep. Not that he didn’t want to, but he physically couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes, phantoms of his past plagued the skin behind his eyelids.

He should feel better. Cazador was dead. The ritual was stopped and his kin were saved. So why did he still feel trapped?

He shifted in his bedroll a few times before letting out a frustrated sigh and sitting up. Running a hand down his face and glancing around the dark tent you shared. The only light being the remaining embers of the fire outside.

Experimentally, Astarion attempted to close his eyes in a futile last attempt to rid himself of the visions. Only to flinch and open them again upon seeing those agonised faces and mutilated bodies.

Sensing the sudden lack of presence beside you, you begin to stir awake and feel the bedroll beside you only to feel it empty. Feeling a jolt of panic, you open your eyes fully only to find your companion sat barely a foot away from you.

Astarion’s head turns as you join him in sitting up. “Sorry if I woke you.” He mutters and runs a hand through his hair. The frown on his face highlighting his fine lines and blemishes.

You shake your head and yawn as you come into a comfortable sitting position. “Don’t apologise…” You shift closer to him but stop once he flinches slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Worry laces your voice as you reach out to touch Astarion’s hand. His hand twitches as if wanting to pull away before he lets it close around your soft skin.

“It’s nothing, darling.” He forces out a chuckle. An obvious attempt to brush the subject off. You’d known him too long to fall for that. You let out a small sigh and move to sit as close to him as you could.

“Star… You can’t lie to me.” You smile sadly at him. “Tell me what’s bothering you. You can trust me.”

Astarion hesitates. Even after months of adventuring with you and getting used to your heroism and kindness, he still struggled with the fact that he could trust you. It’s not that he didn’t want to. He trusted you with his life. But it was still new to him.

“I spent 200 years not trusting anyone…” He speaks quietly. “200 years… suffering at the hands of that maniac.” He swallows as if trying to gulp down a lump in his throat.

“I’m supposed to feel free… happy. I’m finally able to live without the fear of being used as a pawn in some sick plan…” He squeezes your hand ever so slightly, trying to find comfort in the warmth of your skin.

“But I don’t, that bastard is dead and yet I still feel him looming over me. As if gloating that his death was quick.” His voice cracks a bit before he clears his throat. “Do you know how many times I wished for that? Preyed? A quick death to save me from him and my torture?”

His words made your heart break into uncountable pieces. Your eyes softening as you shift to hold his other hand with your free one. “Star…” You start only for him to cut you off.

“You killed him though… I know that…” He clears his throat again. “It’s silly for me to still worry about him. And the people he made me hurt.”

You shake your head and move to get a glance at his face. “Astarion, it’s not silly.” You speak softly, letting go of one of his hands to cup his face and turn his face to yours. “You’ve gone through so much. More than I can even begin to fathom. What you did was not your fault. You were coerced and manipulated by a man who was selfish and ruinous.”

His eyes finally move to meet yours, instantly softening once he sees the kindness in your gaze.

“You’re a different man to who you were under his power. A better man. Even if you don’t believe it. I’ve seen it.” You smile softly and run a thumb along his cheekbone. “It’ll take time to move on from this. This has been your life for centuries. Those habits will be hard to break, but I’ll be right there. By your side. Because I love you.”

Astarion smiles as his eyes gloss over with emotion at your words. “You mean that?”

You nod and press a soft kiss to his nose. “With my whole heart.”

He leans into your touch. Moving closer until he’s able to press soft kisses to your lips. “I love you too.” He whispers against your lips before pulling away and lieing back down on his bedroll.

Your smile widens and you lay down with him. Your head resting on his arm and your body pressed against his in a comfortable silence. No other words needing to be said to explain the bond the both of you share.

Your eyes get heavy again quite quickly as your breathing steadies drifting into a state of rest. Astarion glances down at your sleeping face with a soft smile and moves some of your hair to give you a kiss on the forehead.

He takes a deep breath, readying himself to tackle his demons again. However, for the first time in days, closing his eyes didn’t bring visions of victims and abusers.

But visions of you.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important—"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it. 

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words. 

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little. 

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank. 

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims. 

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead. 

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight. 

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo. 

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands. 

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss. 

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping. 

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point. 

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair. 

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall. 

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night. 

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him. 

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do." 

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

[seobstarr]

Eternal Sunshine

pairing!: Non idol!Sunghoon x fem reader

genre!: angst, a little nostalgia, and a pinch of fluff that you’d have to use a magnifying glass to see it.

trope!: second chance

prompt!: After a bad argument that resulted in sunghoon angrily racing out of your apartment, he begins to worry about you when you don’t respond to any of his messages the following days after the fallout. When he figures out that you’ve decided to erase him from your mind forever, he makes it his mission to get to you before it’s too late.

warnings!: profanity, arugements, breakups, crying, descriptive writing panic attacks, mentions of disassociation

songs!: eternal sunshine- ariana grande, imperfect for you- ariana grande, talk- beabadoobee, saturn- SZA

Sunghoon hadn’t known how they had gotten to where they were.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows in the living room. The couple both stood on opposite sides of the room, their faces flushed with frustration and anger and the remnants of their latest argument hung in the air casting a palpable tension between them.

"This isn't working, Sunghoon!" Y/N exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, her heart aching with words unsaid; unable to say under the daunting cold stare of her longtime boyfriend

"We can't keep doing this. We can't keep hurting each other like this."

Sunghoon ran a hand through his brown hair, his eyes darkened with frustration. "And whose fault is that, Y/N? You're the one who always picks fights over every little thing. You’re insufferable!" Y/N knew that Sunghoon was sometimes like this. After a year of dating, of intimate moments and arguments like this she had known what Sunghoon had up his sleeve and in his books.

Sometimes unreasonable, like a rampaging ape, he would make no room for explanation or justice. Y/N flinched at his words, her eyes widening in hurt and discomfort. "Insufferable? Is that really what you think of me?"

Sunghoon threw his hands up in exasperation. "You never listen! Every time we have a problem, you just keep pushing and pushing until I can’t take it anymore. It's like you enjoy making things difficult. Like you get some sick pleasure out of seeing me frust"

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking up at the sound of sunghoons words. Her heart had filled itself with somewhat of a burning esaperated ache, sending signals to the waterline of her eyeballs "I push because I care, Sunghoon. I push because I want us to work, because I want us to be better. I push because I know you won’t and I know you’ll return to loving me like you didn’t do something that hurt me. But it feels like you’ve given up."

Sunghoon shook his head, his voice softer but no less intense. "I haven’t given up, Y/N. But I’m exhausted. I’m tired of feeling like nothing I do is ever enough for you." The words hung between them, the weight of them sinking in. Everything sunghoon did was enough for her. All the times he had cared for her, had sat beside her in silence; just for company reasons, the sick days they had spent together. Everything that Sunghoon does, even if it’s just standing in the middle of a room, was more than y/n couldve asked for.

After a long stale silence Y/N took a step back, crossing her arms as if to protect herself from the sting of his words. "So what are you saying? That you don't love me anymore?" Sunghoon's face softened, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "I do love you, Y/N. But sometimes, love isn't enough. Sometimes, we just aren’t good for each other." Y/N felt a tear slide down her cheek, her heart breaking at the realization of his words. "So this is it, then? This is how it ends?" Again there was a silence, the cars outside the open window on the busy street seemed to echo in the darkened apartment.

Sunghoon's shoulders slumped, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. After a breath to calm him down he began to speak "Y/N—”

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Maybe you're right. Maybe... maybe we need to let go."

The silence that followed was deafening, both of them absorbing the finality of their choice as Y/N spoke with a firm halted voice; the lump of sobs in her throat beckoning to come out. Y/N felt a hollow ache in her chest, the pain of losing someone she once believed was her forever. Loosing someone who she had thought would be the last person she’d see when the light had left her eyes. Sunghoon took a step towards the door, hesitating for a moment. His hand laid on the handle and without saying another word he walked out unable to make sense of the situation. Y/N nodded to herself as she watched as Sunghoon leave, the door closing behind him with a quiet click that echoed throughout the empty room.

The sobs that had been threatening her came out distant, almost as if it had escaped her throat without permission. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, pressing down on her chest like a boulder, making it hard to breathe.

A numbness creeped into her limbs, spreading slowly, paralyzing her. Her mind raced, replaying every word of their conversation, every painful syllable that had led to this moment. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, the cool wood pressing against her skin through the thin fabric of her pants. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the pieces that felt like they were falling apart, trying to desperately hold the remaining lingering touches he left on her in the previous days.

Her heart pounded erratically, each beat a painful reminder of what she had lost. She had never known that a heart could physically ache, but now as it did, she understood every clichéd song, every poem, every tear-stained line about heartbreak. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made the tears spill over, hot and relentless, carving paths down her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming, an endless stream of sorrow that she couldn’t stop. Her mind flitted back to the good times, the laughter, the shared secrets, the warmth of his touch, the whisperings of sweet nothings as they laid beneath the sunday morning sun. She remembered the way his eyes would light up when he saw her, the way his arms felt like home. Now, every happy moment seemed like a cruel joke, a setup for the devastating situation she was presented with.

The hours passed in a blur of tears and pain, the world outside moving on while hers stood still. Every sound seemed too loud, every shadow too dark, every breath too hard. She dragged herself to bed, curling up under the blankets that still smelled like him. and his softly fragrant cologne. She buried her face in his pillow and had shared her tears with the white satin cover. Her silent sobs continued until her body was exhausted and as she drifted into a restless sleep, the playful memories of Sunghoon and her faded in and out of her head.

Sunghoon had hated this distance. In the three weeks they had been apart, his body seemed to ache for her. His restless sleep seemed to take the form of the dark bags under his eyes and every night was a struggle, his mind replaying their last argument, the hurt in her eyes, the choked down shaker voice that she presented to him and the words he wished he could take back. The words he wished she had taken back. He had been stubborn, prideful, and now he was paying the price for it.

He wandered through his apartment, each corner filled with memories of her. The couch where they had spent countless evenings watching movies, her head resting on his shoulder. The kitchen, where they had danced to old songs while cooking dinner, laughing when they inevitably messed up the recipe. The bed they had shared, where they whispered secrets and dreams to each other in the quiet moments before sleep.

Sunghoon picked up his phone, scrolling through their old messages, his heart clenching with each sweet word and shared joke. He remembered their first date, the nervous excitement as they sat across from each other at a small café, sipping on coffee and talking for hours. He had been captivated by her smile, the way she lit up when she talked about her passions. They had walked along the river afterward, hands brushing until he finally gathered the courage to hold hers. It had felt like the beginning of something magical.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. The weekend getaway to the mountains, where they hiked during the day and cuddled by the fire at night. The spontaneous road trip to the beach, where they played in the waves and collected seashells. Every moment had been perfect, every experience richer because she was by his side.

Sunghoon’s chest tightened as he thought about the night of their argument. He had been so frustrated, the stress from work boiling over into their conversation. He had said things he didn’t mean, his anger masking his love for her. He had seen the hurt in her eyes, the way she had tried to hold back tears. He wanted to reach out, to pull her into his arms and apologize, but his pride had held him back. Instead, he had walked away cowardly, the silence between them heavy and oppressive.

Now, he regretted every word, every moment of stubborn silence. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited, the feeling of her hand in his. He missed the way she understood him, sometimes better than he understood himself. Without her, everything felt dull and lifeless. The world seemed less vibrant, the colors muted.

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had to make things right. He couldn’t bear this distance any longer, couldn’t stand the thought of living without her. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. He knew she wouldn't dare be at her own apartment, that wasn’t like his lover he knew. He knew she had to be out, maybe working extra hours at the local library or even at the mall to distract her from the feelings that ached her at night. He would need to go talk to her two friends if he wanted an exact location.

As he walked, he thought about all the things he would say. He would tell her how much he missed her, how every moment without her felt like an eternity when he did find her.

The streets were quiet, the evening air cool against his skin. Sunghoon’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and hope. When he finally reached the rented building of her friends, he paused, taking a deep breath before knocking.

Jake answered, his expression immediately turning wary when he saw Sunghoon. “Sunghoon?”

“I need to talk to you guys about Y/N,” Sunghoon said, trying to keep his voice steady. Jake stepped aside reluctantly, allowing Sunghoon to enter. Isa was sitting on the couch, and she looked up with a frown as he walked in.

“Sunghoon, this isn’t a good time,” Isa said, her voice tinged with frustration.

“I know you’re not happy to see me,” Sunghoon began, “but I need to find her. It’s important.”

Jake crossed his arms, standing protectively by Isa. “She doesn’t want to see you, Sunghoon. You need to respect that.”

“I get that I messed up,” Sunghoon said, his frustration bubbling up. “But I need to talk to her, to make things right. Please, just tell me where she is.” Isa and Jake exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them then finally, Isa sighed and looked back at Sunghoon, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and anger.

“She’s trying to move on, Sunghoon,” Isa said firmly. “You need to let her go.” Sunghoon had saw the worried stare they had held between eachother and a strong uneasy feeling washed over him, his patience wearing thin. “You’re hiding something, i see it. I’m not here to play mind games, i’m here to figure out where my girlfriend is” He urged. Isa and Jake sighed before Isa had opened the little cabinet below the coffee table, pulling out an envelope and handing it to the taller in front of her.

“we got this in the mail yesterday," Jake said, breaking the awkward silence as Sunghoon examined the envelope. Sunghoon sat in disbelief as he stared at the envelope his friends had just handed him. It was plain and unassuming, yet Sunghoon had a sinking feeling that whatever was inside would change everything.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was frozen from fear, and the feeling of impending doom that washed over him, His hands tremble over the open slit that was already made by the two who sat in front of him. “I…I can’t open it.” It was getting harder to breathe. The tension in the room grew thicker. Isa’s face softened with sadness, and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Jake stepped forward, his expression grim.

“She’s…she’s erasing you, Sunghoon,” Jake said quietly. The words hit Sunghoon like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean, erasing me?” disbelief painted his mouth thickly, like oil paint. “She went to a clinic,” Jake explained, his voice heavy. “They specialize in erasing memories of someone the client wants gone. She’s trying to forget you, Sunghoon.” He finished and Sunghoons stomach twisted inward, his throat holding back the nausea he’d experience.

In almost a second his eyes dart down to the document that explained the procedure and the precautions necessary to find the shipping address below the signature “Sunghoon…” Isa tried to explain, maneuvering the blanket that covered her lap to stand up. But Sunghoon wasn’t listening, her words like fuzz bled into his ears. The surrounding areas around him had became almost uncannily non-existent and the envelope in his hand had became moist from the sweat his palms had produced. A piercing continuous beep had replaced the muffled voices of jake and isa and the tv that sat in front of the three for background noise, all he could think about was her.

About the procedure, about the feelings her would forget when it was said and done. Jakes hand had snapped him out of the reeling disassociation his mind had made him experience “Are you alright?” Jake had asked worryingly, but Sunghoon just replied in a cough and without another word, he bolted out of the apartment, his heart racing. He had to reach her before it was too late.

Sunghoon stood outside the clinic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had run the entire way, his mind racing with disbelief and desperation.

The clinic loomed in front of him, its sterile facade a stark contrast to the chaos inside his heart. He pushed through the double doors, his eyes scanning the waiting room frantically, barely taking in his surroundings as he made his way to the reception desk. “I’m looking for Y/N L/N” he said breathlessly. “Please, I need to see her.”

The receptionist looked up, her expression professional but slightly wary. Her hesitation became greatly known to Sunghoon fast. He knew he looked crazy, almost insane by the way the older womens eyes dialated with fear. His hair had been disheveled and the cold crisp air of winter had painted his nose a bright Rudolph red from all the running he did “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Please,” Sunghoon interrupted, his voice cracking. Something in his desperation must have reached her, because she nodded slowly. “She’s in Room 3” Sunghoon sprinted down the hall, his footsteps echoing loudly. He reached the first floor to where “room 3” was plastered in bold font on a hanging sleek sign and took another 4 big strides before throwing the door open, his eyes landing on Y/N, who was lying on a reclined chair, electrodes attached to her temples.

“Stop!” he shouted, rushing to her side. The technician operating the machine paused, startled by the sudden intrusion “You cannot be back here!” Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, confusion and sadness swirling in them as she looked at him. “Sunghoon?” He closed the distance between them without a second thought and in a few strides his chest was heaving. "I know what you're about to do. Please, don't go through with this."

Y/N’s gaze hardened, a protective shell forming around her vulnerability. "Why do you care, Sunghoon? You said it yourself—sometimes love isn’t enough." Sunghoon’s face contorts with regret. "I know what I said, and I was wrong. I was angry and frustrated, but that doesn’t mean i should’ve treated you like that. Please, let’s talk about this."

Y/N shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "Talking isn’t going to fix this. We’re broken, Sunghoon. We hurt each other too much."

He reached out, his hand trembling as it cupped Y/N’s cheek. "We can try to fix it. We can learn from our mistakes. But erasing me, erasing us—it won’t solve anything. It’ll just leave us emptier than before."

Y/N closes her eyes, leaning into his touch despite the almost burning frustration she felt from doing so. "I can’t keep living with this pain. Every memory, every moment we shared, it’s like a sword had punctured my lung."

Sunghoon’s voice cracked, desperation seeping into his words. "If you do this, we’ll lose everything. The good memories, the laughter, the love. Please, Y/N, don’t let go of us this way." She took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "What if it’s too late? What if we can’t fix this? What if you can’t forgive me for doing this?"

Sunghoon shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening. "I would never hold this against you, you’re vulnerable Y/N, I would never take advantage of you like this. It’s never too late. We can start over, we can rebuild. But we need to do it together. Don’t, Y/N. Please.” Y/N looked between Sunghoon and the panicked doctor who was on the phone with security, wastefully debating between the comfort of forgetting and the pain of holding on.

Sunghoon's footsteps echoed softly on the deserted platform, the early morning mist curling around his ankles in a cooling breeze. He adjusted his scarf, trying to fend off the biting chill of the ghostly morning, and scanned the horizon for the first hint of dawn. He loved these quiet moments, when the world still asleep, it coddled him in a warm sense of possibilities. But today, an uneasy feeling gnawed at his usually calm demeanor, something the train platform rarely gave him.

Y/N stood at the other end of the platform, her breath forming small clouds in the frosty air as she tried to find comfort in the cold crisp air. She shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets, seeking warmth and comfort. The train station felt like a ghost town, a stark contrast to the noisy chaos that usually accompanied her mornings.

Both of their eyes met across the platform, and for a split second, time seemed to freeze. There was something eerily familiar in Sunghoon's impatient colding gaze, something that tugged at the edges of Y/N's memory. But before she could dwell on it, the loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing the arrival of the next train.

Sunghoon hesitated, then took a step toward Y/N, meeting her in the middle of the trains inside "Hey," he said, his voice sounding strangely loud in the quiet almost empty train. "Do I know you?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "I... I don't think so," she replied, though uncertainty laced her words. "But you seem familiar. Have we met before?"

Sunghoon frowned, searching his mind for any recollection but no memories had seemed to reenter his consciousness. "I don't think so. But... I have this weird feeling that we have. Maybe in another life or something."

Y/N chuckled, a soft, wistful sound. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe we're just two strangers on the same train." She joked, earning a small laugh from the taller.

footnotes!.

keb notes!: HEYYYY SO LIKEE…I do not like this piece at all lolz 😆. I feel like it was rushed even though i spent 2 months on it, the formatting is off and most of all, i honestly just feel like i did an ASS job at writing this whole thing but i love ariana grande so i had to put this out there..also…MY ASS DID NOT GRAMMAR CHECK THIS SSORRRYYY😭😭

if you couldn’t tell this us based off of the 2004 movie “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind” it’s honestly one of my favorite movies and when one of my favorite artists made a song referencing the movie in her music video i knew i had to write something ab it lol😭

This is also my first ever enhypen fic on tumblr!! I’ll be posting a jake fluff to compensate for this fic tho…

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I have a request if you're taking any. A Jake Lockley x fem!reader. The reader is dating them but is kind of scared of Jake (is very quiet and weary around him, doesn't like his physical touch) because he was cold and mean to her when they first met (he wanted to "protect" Steven) but now all he wants is to hold and love her. The opportunity finally arrives when she's sick and needs his help. (He forcefully fronts bc he's not letting this opportunity go to waste)

Of course! Thank you so much for the ask!

Ahhh, this one got away from me a bit. (And did a bit of it's own thing) I went in to write some angst with Jake and just ended up writing soft!Jake (again, because I can't help myself.) I hope this is okay!

Embrace

Jake Lockley X F!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: Overuse of railroad sentences, typos, hurt/comfort, previous Jake & reader not getting along, sick!reader, fluff, implied Steven x reader and Marc x reader, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 1789

_______________________________________

He can’t stop playing it over and over again in his mind. The image looping in a relentless merry-go-round. 

A light touch. His gloved fingertips barely skimming your skin as he tapped you on the arm. A gentle warning that he-they were back. 

You’d had your headphones on as you did the washing up, miming along a song whose beat bled out into the air around you. 

It was like you had known it was him on some subconscious level even before he reached you. 

Your reaction was etched into his skin, carved behind his eyelids. The flinch. The instinctive movement away from him. It was like a knife hacking the flesh away from his chest. 

You had looked at him as you paused your music. Your eyes a little wide and weary before you gave him a small smile. “Am I in the way?” 

The air had stuck in his throat, crushing him under the weight of his breath.

Jake didn’t trust his voice, not in that moment. He swallowed and shook his head. 

You nodded, looking at his hands instead of his face and went back to the washing up. You didn’t turn your music back on. 

.

It had been his fault. Jake knew that. He had been more than distant, cold, purposely keeping you further than an arm’s length and trying to drag Marc and Steven away from you as well. 

You had been a stranger. A danger. A variable that he couldn’t keep a constant eye on. 

There was a small mix up, some bad intel when Jake went out of his way to check on your background - just in case - by the time he realised that he had been working on the wrong information the damage was done. 

.

Jake watched in the background as Steven travelled home, keeping quiet as Marc and Steven talked. They had taken to wearing large over the ear headphones so that they could speak freely in public and look like they were just on the phone. Not that anyone in London would even notice if they were talking to themselves or not. 

He had stayed quiet as Steven showered and got changed, as Marc hoovered and then washed the leftover morning dishes. 

He didn’t even interject in the discussion of what to make for dinner, which was quickly becoming a squabble. 

It was only interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and you shuffling into the flat. 

But your doorsteps, they sounded… wrong. Too heavy and laboured, missing the normal bounce to your step. 

Marc was about to call out a greeting when Jake pushed to the front, cutting off his words before he had even opened his mouth. 

‘Jake!’ Marc’s voice was loud, but fading as he fell back. 

As Steven spoke at the exact same time. ‘Mate, you can’t just do that-” 

“Something’s wrong.” Jake muttered, his muscles tense. He moved towards the front door, keeping his footsteps light and making the minimal amount of possible sound. He stopped when you came into view.

You were slouched on the settee, crumpled up and drawn in on yourself. Your work bag was still on your lap, your coat and shoes on. Eyes shut. 

There was a horrible twist in his stomach, a wave of panic that buzzed across every nerve. You were hurt. 

He rushed forward, all previous grace forgotten.

You didn’t open your eyes until he put a hand firmly on your shoulder, an action that was worrying enough, “where are you injured?” He frowned deeply, trying to scan you over for any bruising or open wounds. 

“What, I’m not,” your voice came out all stuffy. Bunked up and a little garbled as if you’d just been woken from sleep. 

Realisation dawned.  You were sick, not hurt. He should pull back. He should get Steven or Marc, let them help you. That’s what you would want. 

“I’m just a bit,” your eyes were glassy, your reactions a little delayed. You motioned to your head with your hands. “Cotton wool-y.”

Jake put his hand on your forehead, you were burning hot.

He tutted and knelt down on the ground and began to take off your shoes. Quick and precise in his movements. 

You frowned. Your mind slowly catching up. “Jake?” 

He didn’t pause, didn’t answer. But swallowed when you stiffened slightly. 

“You don’t need to do that.” You whispered.

Jake continued, focused on his task, his warm hand on your calf as he eased your foot out of your boot and placed it carefully on the side before he started on the other. 

You cleared your throat. “You don’t have to.”

He set your other boot next to the first and slowly stood. His movements were slow, precise, careful to not surprise you. As if you were some wild skittish animal that could be spooked by the smallest thing. 

Jake took your work bag from your lap and hung it up on the side, where you liked to keep it. You followed his movements, nerves eating into your stomach. He didn’t have to do this. You were sure he didn’t want to do this. You were nothing more than a burden to him, an annoyance that he had to put up with for Marc and Steven’s sake. You-

“Come on,” he spoke softly, his eyes still downcast as he lent down towards you, gently taking your hands in his to help you to stand. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Jake,” the urge to pull your hands back, away from his touch was so strong, but you let him help you up. 

He ignored your words, wrapping one arm around your shoulders, his other hand on your arm as he began to guide you to the bedroom. 

“Jake,”

He stared at his feet,his lips pressed together into a tight line. His long, dark eyelashes were almost kissing his skin in his determination not to catch your gaze. 

“Jake.” You stopped, forcing Jake to as well. Your voice cracked as you spoke, your throat sore and aching. You swallowed. “I don’t need you to do this.”

He looked at you then.

You were expecting to see relief on his face. A nod. For his hands to leave you so that he could go about his evening without having to carry the burden of caring about you for his alter’s sake. 

Instead, his expression made a sharp cut of emotion sink into your chest. 

He stared at you with glassy eyes, his mouth slightly parted. He looked crestfallen. He looked heartbroken.

You didn’t know what to do.

There was a long moment before he spoke. “Please.”

You frowned in confusion. 

“Please,” he repeated. “Please let me look after you.” “Please don’t,” he glanced down again and screwed up his eyes, clenching his jaw and dropping his arms to his sides. Your skin was cold without his heat.

Slowly, you reached out and took his hand. A light touch as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his. He squeezed back tightly. 

“Please let me look after you.” Jake whispered. “Please.”

You cupped his cheek with your free hand and he lent into it without hesitation, closing his eyes and breathing out heavily. As if the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. 

“Jake?” 

He opened his eyes, a painful vulnerability dancing in them. 

“Please look after me.” You whispered. 

He smiled, the expression lighting up his whole face in one glorious moment. You’d never seen him smile like that before. 

He led you to bed, only leaving so that you could get changed into your pyjamas. He came back, calling out to you at first to check that you had finished changing your clothes, with his arms full. He carefully placed a new box of tissues and a packet of strepsils on your bedside table, along with some paracetamol and a cooling gel pack that was intended for headaches - explaining that it was Steven’s and he didn’t know if it would be helpful. 

You beamed at him as you sat up in bed, but didn’t get a chance to thank him as Jake rushed out of the room again, coming back quickly with your favourite mug. Steam wafted out of it. 

“It’s ginger,” he said, adding it to the collection on your bedside table, and making sure it sat perfectly in the middle of the coaster. “With some honey, it should help your throat. I can hear that you're a bit croaky.”

The honey touched your heart. There was only one pot of it in the flat, Jake’s vitamin honey that you had never touched. The honey that he refused to share with Marc or Steven, even going to the extent of hiding it. It was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself. 

“Jake,” you spoke so softly you were surprised he heard you. “Thank you.”

He fiddled with his hands, another little smile pulling at his lips. “It’s nothing.”

You shook your head, leaning a little to reach out to take his hand. He reacted straight away, moving towards your touch so that you didn’t have to disrupt your comfort. He sat lightly on the very edge of the mattress when you urged him to, taking your hand in his and running your thumb over his skin in a soothing pattern. 

Jake watched you, mesmerised. Your touch was for him, he wasn’t watching through Marc or Steven. It was his. 

“I’m honoured you know.” You said with a smile. “Letting me have some of your honey.” 

A small flush crept along his skin. For a moment he thought about lying, about saying that there was another jar. He swallowed and spoke quietly. “You’re more important than the honey.”

You didn’t know what to say, words wouldn’t form. 

Slowly, so carefully as if he was now the easily startled wild animal, you leant forward and wrapped your arms around him. You gave Jake plenty of time to move away, to back off. Instead he rushed towards it, quickly embracing you back and just melting into the hug. 

He tucked his head into your neck and breathed out a shaky breath. 

You could feel the tension in his arms, the strain running just under his skin as he fought the urge to hold you tighter, to press you closer to every inch of his body. 

You shifted backwards, laying down, and pulled him with you, urging him to follow. He clutched you tightly, and moved, shifting only slightly so that he was laying next to you and not on top of you. 

He let out the sweetest sigh of content as you coax him to lay his head on your chest and ran your fingers through his hair, still holding you tight. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @welcometostayingawake @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @mbakubabe

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here