#blanket-heap-of-trash

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Eighteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 3.1K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. Sexual content. Pregnancy and things that come with it. Brief mention of options in relation to termination of pregnancy. PTSD. Heavy emotions. Graphic descriptions of domestic violence and miscarriage, suicidal ideation. This is mostly inner monologue. Feelings of anxiety, despair, fear. This part is a little shorter due to its emotional nature.

There’s no oxygen.

No room for your lungs to expand, nothing for you to suck into your chest and relieve the ache blooming in your bones.

You drift, unmoored, a sailboat with no rudder, no engine to save you in an ocean without a breeze. All you can do is follow the current, the one leading you back to the dozen HCG strips buried in the bottom of a trash can, faint pink lines buried in the membranes and the matter of your brain.

The midwife that squeezed you in confirmed it all with a blood draw.

“You have options.”

“I know.”

There are resources, and education for you…  though I know you’re probably aware.”

“Yup.”

“Depending on your decisions, we’d like to see you in about two weeks for an eight-week ultrasound.” You gulp. The air is tragically thin in this room, and the paper crinkles under your uneasy weight.  

“Okay.”

When Simon appears in the main lobby for the usual trek home, you barely hold back the urge to vomit all over his shoes. Your legs are weak, trembling with each step forward, and you hold his hand so tight, your bones ache.

Sensitive as always, he lingers alongside you in the quiet, biding his time before slicing through your silence. “What is it sweetheart?”

“Huh?” You’re already on the front doorstep, memory of the entire trip evaporated.

“Do you still not feel well?”

“Oh, yeah.” The lie is toxic, sludge stuck in your bloodstream, clogging your capillaries until they burst like fireworks. “It’s my stomach.”

“Pen’s still under the weather too.”

“Poor thing.” The words are numb. Your mind is numb. Your body is a livewire and exhausted, all at once, the push and pull almost knocking you onto the floor. In the kitchen, Johnny wraps an arm around your waist, leaning in for a kiss, but nothing registers.

“Maybe you should get some rest.”

“Yeah.” Autopilot. That’s the gear you’re in. Going through the motions, trying to hold yourself together, keep your head above water.

Is this real?

Is this happening?

What will they say?

What will they think?

“Bunny?” Johnny’s thumb is on your carotid, where your pulse beats. Where your heart pushes blood through your circulatory system, flowing to a presence now fluttering inside you.

One plus one equals two.

“Sorry, yeah. Think I’m gonna go up, take a nap.”

“Yell if ye need anything, aye?” All you can do is nod.

You gravitate towards the guest room before you can stop yourself. It’s as you left it, bed made, sheets crisp, remnants of your things separated into easily sorted piles. In the nest of blankets, it’s easy to pretend. Easy to imagine the bed as a cloud of cotton candy, so high in the sky, above the earth, above this… this thing that is happening.

An embryo. Something two millimeters long, siphoning its existence from yours.

That tiny sliver of hope is nowhere to be found, replaced now with logical, realistic questions.

Can you sustain a pregnancy, after the damage inflicted during the last one?

Can you carry one to viability?

Can you mentally, emotionally, physically handle a pregnancy?

An infant?

And what about them?

What about you?

You think about the times you wanted to die. The moments you sat in the shower, streams of red running to the drain, a clump of cells you never knew draining from your body with each second.

A loss you never knew you’d mourn. Something stolen. Something slipping through your fingers, handfuls of sand blown away by a sea breeze.

The overwhelming feeling of drowning every time you laid on the floor in a broken heap, synapses misfiring, making wrong connections, desperately trying to latch onto anything normal, anything sane. Staring at the ceiling, slow flow of blood dripping down your throat, left wondering if this will be it, this will be the moment it goes too far. Your spine will snap. You’ll take a blow to the head strong enough to render you unconscious, permanently. Your windpipe will be crushed, closing in on itself, starving your brain of oxygen. In those moments, you could only hope.

You’re grateful, at least, that you don’t feel like that now.

In a cocoon on a cusp of hazy sleep, you’re cradled to a chest, jostled lightly until blankets are tucked back up around your shoulders and snuggled between two warm bodies, a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

“Our sweet girl,” Simon murmurs in the dark, “we’re here. Whatever it is, we have you.”

A dream.

You sleepwalk through life. One week turns to two, and then three. Three weeks turn to four, and more, before you know it, you’re twelve weeks pregnant, still going through the motions, robotically making your way through each day. You’re shoving the waterfall of feelings and emotions so deep, so far away, they’re likely to never see the sun again.

You lock them in a box.

You bury it in a grave, six feet under.

At work, you’re grateful you know your job inside and out, because you’re mostly just going through the motions. The only time you show any sign of life is when your boss tries to float you to the NICU. When you dig in your heels, repeatedly denying the request, she finally gives up and moves onto a new unsuspecting victim.

Better them than you.

At home, its worse. You don’t know if you’re imagining the tension or if its truly there, eggshells crumbling beneath your feet, words turned to ash. You’re a marionette, fate pulling the strings, tearing the joints of your limbs in a million directions.

They can tell. They read you too well, but you’re not so easily swayed. Simon tries to coax it gently; Johnny tries to bluntly force it out. Both tactics fail, but they themselves stay steady, and true, holding you in the night, soothing you with touch and whispers, loving you through it all.

During the day, they coddle you. Johnny massages your shoulder, tips your chin back until your skull rests on collarbone, dots kisses all over your skin. He tugs you onto the patio, curls up on the outdoor loveseat with you under a big blanket, your head in his lap, telling you stories about his childhood, his parents. He makes you giggle by reminiscing of all the times he chased Simon around at work, how Kyle fell out of a helicopter, how they had to wear suits for an undercover op one time and Simon's ripped right down the ass.

Simon cooks, all your favorites, things you forgot he pays attention to, and spoons you on the couch, big arm like a safety net stretched across your chest to keep you close. He brings tea to bed, reading until your eyes close, calming your mind enough to lull you to sleep.

Even at night, they treasure you like glass. Johnny lays on his stomach, thumbs rubbing circles into your thighs, parting them, backs of his knuckles tracing over the seam of your pussy, coaxing your arousal, taking his time. He licks your clit so slowly its torture, all the while Simon tugs your knee as wide as he can, hand fisted in the mohawk, kissing you from shoulder to neck, over and over.

You beg them to fuck you hard, harder than you’ve ever asked for it before. Johnny jumps at the idea, but Simon kills it immediately.

“No,” he traces a line over the curve of your ass to the creases of your thighs, “that’s not going to happen, sweetheart. Not until you tell us what’s going on.” You opt to bury your face in his chest instead and ride Johnny’s hand as Simon coaches, telling you how good you are, how lucky they are, how much you mean to them.

If only they knew. Would they still feel the same?

It’s more than you deserve, you think. More than you know how to handle. The guilt piles onto your shoulders. You’re carrying a life, a life you created with them, a life they should know about.

The decisions waiting in the wings haunt you at every turn.

What should you do? What will you do?

You should tell them. They should know.

Why are you keeping this a secret?

The time is passing too fast, and with it, your panic increases, forcing your back to bow, hands clutching at your legs, head hanging heavy to the floor. At work in the closet, at home the moments you’re alone, the agony steals your breath, heart shredding to pieces. It overcomes you, floods your nervous system until the world spins.

In the shower, you fall apart, truly, knees slamming into tile, your shoulders slumped against the wall.

It’s hard to tell you’re crying with water streaming over your face.

You lose your shit the day Penny crawls across the couch to cuddle you.

She pulls herself up onto your belly, her head resting on your chest, chubby hands fisted in your shirt.

“Bunny wead?” She wants a story, a routine the two of you enjoy together, turning the pages of a children’s book and acting out all the voices. She’ll squeal with glee, her laughter full of excitement, and you’ll tickle her sides while pretending to eat her foot.

It makes you both happy, but today, it splits your soul in two.

You burst into tears. She jolts back, looking up into your face, little brow furrowed in confusion, mouth shocked into a circle.

“Bunny.” She pats your cheek, alarmed, and you skim your nose across the top of her head, breathing her deep, anchoring your arm around her back. She’s starting to get upset, too perceptive, too empathetic, already expressing the traits of both her parents. You try to soothe her distress.

“It’s alright.” Your voice cracks on the promise, her nose pressed to your throat. “It’s alright, Penny. I’m sorry. Everything’s okay.” Johnny’s unmistakable gait sounds on the stairs, still slightly off balance, and you hastily wipe your face, forcing your eyes to his as he approaches the couch.

“What’s wrong?” He sees it immediately, and you shake him off with another lie, so many little white ones rotting into blinding despair.

“I had a bad day at work yesterday, that’s all. Just still trying to process it.” His head cocks.

“Ye sure?”

“Yeah, promise. I’ll be fine.”

The tide changes at work.

A man lies in a medically induced coma, barbiturates keeping him in the dark, a suspended state of uncertainty. His wife waits, and waits, fixes her too keen eyes on you every time she sees you, waiting for an update, good news, anything. Anything that could bring her peace.

On the second day of your work week, your steps stutter at the sight of her sitting bedside, a baby in her arms, gentle words floating between them.

“We’ve moved onto ba now, for a bottle, which is just crazy,” she murmurs, a hand under her cheek, wiping away tracks of tears, “and I think he’s too big for me to carry around at this point.” There’s a wet chuckle, and the baby tips forward, smacking his hand on his dad’s. “Is that daddy?” She bounces him, quiet as he babbles and gurgles, his eyes wide at the sights and sounds in a hospital room.

You clear your throat. She startles.

“Oh god, sorry… I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” Intruding on private moments is not uncommon, though here it feels different. “I just need to check on some things and then I’ll be out of your hair.” She nods, and outside of the baby’s noises, the room is silent until she breaks it with a whisper.

“I know there’s probably no chance he can hear me,” her fingers stroke through his hair, a pained look on her face, “but I like to believe he can.”

“There’s no definitive research that he can’t,” you tell her softly, carefully going about your work to avoid disturbing them.

“I hope he can hear the baby. He’s… he’s missed so much already, you know?” She sniffles, tears freely falling, and your heart clenches. “We’re broken without him; I’m broken without him. He’s my family, my everything. I can’t… we’re not supposed to be apart. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You have thick skin. You’ve seen countless people die. Consoled hundreds of family members. Held hands with patients taking their last breath.

This shouldn’t bother you. It shouldn’t affect you in any way, but when you look at your patient, and his partner, and his child-

All you can see is your boys and their unconditional love. Simon sitting vigilant at Johnny’s bedside. Johnny’s tears when he finally woke up. The fear in Simon’s eyes when Johnny seized, the trust he placed in your promise to take care of him. Penny in his arms as soon as he was strong enough to hold her. Their resolve to hold their family together, their dedication to you through it all. The three of them, a family, now yours, spun together with string stronger than steel, connecting the four of you for the rest of your life.

You’ll make it through. You’ll all make it through. You have their love shining down on your face. The love strong enough to hold you tight, rock you through your nightmares, encourage you to grow, to be yourself, to let it all go.

And they have you. Your love. Something you never thought would exist again, fostered and enticed forward, magnified for them. For the first time, you’re able to give to someone, to comfort them, care for them the way they have for you, hold them tight through their pain, their fears. It’s never felt so…

right.

It’s not one plus one. It’s five. Five hearts, making a family.

You know, without a doubt, they’ll love this baby. They won’t leave your side. They’ll take care of you, they’ll nurture you both, they’ll be solid, and supportive, and patient through it all.

You don’t need them to say it, and you don’t need to be scared.

Their light soothing your despair, healing the deep embedded scars, their warmth of the sun-

The little sunbeam growing inside you.

“You’re a few weeks late.” The midwife shakes her head as you settle on the exam table. You showed up in a whirlwind again, convincing her to fit you in between appointments.

“I know, I… I was struggling with it, but I feel better now. I’m… ready.” Your lips quirk at the corners, and she smiles in return.

“Should we take a look then?” You nod with a deep breath.

The jelly is cold, and she purposefully keeps the screen turned away from you, clicking, measuring, assessing in silence. It's standard policy for any employee or medical professional. Though you're not an ultrasound tech, it's not outside the realm of possibility that you could read the image on the screen before she can tell you gently that something is wrong.

Your past haunts you, taunts you, convinces you this has all been for nothing. You’re too damaged for this. Your body is broken. He took too much.

Still, you hope. You cling to a future, a vision, Penny holding the baby with Johnny’s arms supporting her, Simon half asleep with a burp cloth on his shoulder, little one asleep on his chest.

“Alright,” she turns it back for you to see, her expression colored with kindness. “Everything looks great, honey.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Placenta is in optimal position, and baby is right on track developmentally for twelve weeks.” She twists a knob, the volume, filling the room with sound of galloping hoofbeats.

The heartbeat.

“Oh my god.” Your hand clasps over your mouth and you desperately try to bring air in through your nose, filling your diaphragm, staving off a river of tears unsuccessfully. She hands you a tissue.

“I’ll get you some printouts, okay?” You can’t do anything but choke on a thank you.

You slip away after your appointment, crossing through the halls leading to the out-patient wing where you’ll find Johnny in physical therapy, Simon in a chair scrolling through his phone just outside. The smile stretches across your face naturally, joy bursting at the seams.  

It's a new day, a new moment to turn away from the darkness and step into the sun.

You’re nearly skipping, heart so full, overflowing with hope, with happiness, your hands trembling, pictures of the scan clutched in your fingers. You hold them so tight, close to your chest, afraid they may disappear, be lost.

In hindsight, the crippling agony and fear you’ve been holding in seems so foolish now. It’s easy to curse yourself for the doubt, for the despair, but the path you took to get here, to be present in this moment, moving forward, was worth it.

They love you, and they’ll love little sunbeam. Penny will be the best big sister. You’ll make new memories, together, build the beginning of this life into a forever. Everything will work out; you can feel it now. You’ve shed the dented armor, the walls, the fence topped with barbed wire. The girl in the mirror, gone. It’s all crumbled down. With Johnny. With Simon. Your family.

A family of five.

You round the corner with your hands knitted together, a flimsy effort to still them, elated and barely able to hold your secret in. You won’t be able to do a cute announcement, won’t be patient enough to do something special like get Penny a shirt that says, “best big sister” even though you’d like to.

You’ve kept it from them for long enough. You need them to know.

You look for Simon first, expecting him to be waiting outside the door, but when he's not there, you glance around, and then peek into the observation window to find the physical therapy room empty.

Where are they? Where-

They’re at the end of the hall, talking to someone out of sight. Simon has his arms crossed, his body angled partially in front of Johnny, who shifts his weight onto his good leg. They’re both wearing serious expressions, Simon’s the most severe, and then Johnny’s lips twist into a grim sort of smile.

Whoever they’re talking to steps forward, and your heart burns into ash, falling through the floor to bottomless depths of darkness.

Phillip.

[xob1tchs]

(i completely understand if you don’t wanna do this, no pressure babe) but can i have a fic where readers on her period n mentions that apparently orgasms help w cramps (kinda as a joke) but ethan’s more than willing to they fuck??

THANK YOU THANK YOU 🙏🙏

we’ll be so good

fem!reader x ethan landry

warnings; fingering, mentions of blood, period sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight dumbification, pet names (babe, baby, angel) unedited so spelling & grammar errors.

a/n; this is the title inspo, bc ethan is lowk the weeknd coded 🫣 and babe…i can write u anything u want xx

You’re curled up in Ethan’s dorm, face buried in his blanket, body drowning in his hoodie paired with a pair of boy short panties, eyes screwed shut as another wave of cramps washes over you. You groan out in pain, flinching when the door opens, rolling over to see a sweaty Ethan slip inside. He’d left for the gym after his last class, texting you to let you know his dorm room was unlocked, and you’d taken the unspoken offer graciously. Periods are always more manageable when you can cry and whine in Ethan’s bed, earning soft coos and praises in return.

He tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it to the overflowing laundry basket m, before he tugs the door to their wardrobe open “cramps bad again baby?” he questions, riffling through the heaps of close in search of a towel, you hum and he clicks his toungue, sighing “i wish i could help babe” he mumbles.

You hum again, shifting to sit up on your calves, hand between your legs to keep you stable. You let your eyes wander, gaze darkening as you watch the taut muscles in his back flex as he continues looking, and you feel a familiar feeling stir in your tummy “well actually maybe you can” you mutter, head tilting as you recall an article you’d read among your search for more effective methods than pamprin and warm compresses.

He turns to look at you, brows raising in curiosity, tossing a towel over his shoulder. Your fingers anxiously toy with the fabric of sheets, but the ache in your abdomen is over ruling any embarrassment.

“orgasms can help with cramps”

Ethans eyes fall hooded, and he tilts his head at you, lips parting as if he’s about to respond – but only silence fills the air in the room.

Now nerves are setting in, and you feel heat rising up your neck, ready to let the ground swallow you whole “but that’s silly- and kind of gross right? i don’t actu-“

“since you’re on your period does that mean we get to do it raw?”

Your words are cut short, mouth falling open, eyes widening as you watch Ethan toss the towel to the ground; already padding across the room to stand infront of you.

His fingers trail across where your breasts poke through the fabric of his hoodie, to the hem against your thighs, before he’s tugging at it gently — your arms instinctively raising, letting him drop the fabric to the floor “let me help you” he says softly, hand’s cupping your hips, smoothing up your sides, gently skimming over your breasts until the reach your shoulders, squeezing in reassurance

“o-okay” you stutter in a breath, back hitting his mattress with a thump, stomach falling flat against your rib cage as his fingers wonder down your bare skin the the hem of your panties “but- i can take these off” you grip his wrist, eyes widening at the thought of your boyfriend taking your period diaper off.

He chuckles, to strong for you to to keep in place, fingers hooking in the elastic of both your panties and the dark material of your so called period panties, tugging them both down with a shake of his head, letting them fall to the floor by his feet “you act like i don’t change the trash when you’re on your period – stop over thinking” he mumbles, fingers trailing down your pelvis, reaching the best between your legs, pulling your lips apart revealing your pussy to his view.

he sucks in a breath, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit, cooing when you squirm under the pressure “should I prep you? stretch this little pussy out with my fingers? hmm?” he mumbles, fingers already trailing down your folds, teasing your core.

You feel heat spread across your face, face turning to look away from him, hips twitching when he slips it in to the first knuckle, curling as he toys with your aching walls “tell me you want it baby” he tsks, chuckling at your poor attempt to slink down, hoping for his fingers to plunge inside of you.

“I-i want it e” you whine, blinking away any self doubt, lips parting in a frown.

“that’s good baby” he hums, stuffing three fingers in at once prompting you to whine out, jaw falling open at the sudden stretch, pussy walls contracting around him. Crooning out a praise “so tight, always” you gasp at his words, hips jerking when he spreads his fingers, stretching you open.

Your back arched off the bed when his thumb presses to your clit, rubbing in harsh circular motions, your thighs clamping around his wrist “feels good” you cry, thighs resisting as he pushes at the, burning from his strength as he forces them wide open.

“you’re so sensitive, so cute” he smiles down at you sweetly, eyes shining with adoration as he watches you writhe below him,. His smile on widens when he slips his fingers out and you cry his name, pleading for him to keep going, he ignored you, fingers gripping the waist band of his sweats, staining them with the maroon liquid coating his fingers. They fall to his ankles, underwear not found – that makes you clench around nothing, eyes round and amazed when his cock stands straight up against his pelvis, tip below his belly button.

He grips his cock around the base, hips rolling forward to tease his tip against your cunt, ghosting over your clit; gathering a mix of wetness and blood “ready for me baby?” he mumbles in a gentle tone, cock slipping past your lips, protruding at your whole softly.

You whine, skull digging into the mattress, legs spreading impossibly wider “yes yes, please I’m ready” your answer is punctuated with a swift thrust, cock plunging into you in one motion, pussy stretching around him with a delicious burn.

You grips the meat of your thighs, tugging ass a little over the edge of his bed, before he pulls almost completely out save for the tip, and thrusts back in, quickly setting a fast and deep pace.

He fucks into you, balls slapping against your ass loudly, your arousal and blood creaming out around the base of his cock, dripping to stain the carpet. Your hands grip his comforter and sheets harshly, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth hanging open as a never ending string of moans and whines flee free. He’s completely sheathed on your cock, gummy and swollen walls clenching around him with a death grip, swallowing his cock back up with every thrust.

You always enjoy sex with Ethan, but the period hormones have gone straight to your pussy, creating an immense pleasure, mind muddled with the thought of Ethan and his cock, fucking you until you can barely breath. You croon, eye lids fluttering as you struggle to keep your eyes open, palm reaching to press against his abdomen “it’s too much, it’s-it’s! I’m gonna cum babe, e please” your words slip out a jumbled mess, eyebrows frowning as Ethan fucks into you even harsher, dark eyes focused on the way drool has begun to slip past the corners of your mouth.

His hand trails flatly down your thigh, until his fingers reach your pussy, and his fingers begin to toy with your clit, making you cry out in shock “that’s right baby, cum for me, want you screaming on the cock angel” he practically growls, a chuckle following when you gasp out, breath falling silent as your real ease washes over you, your hips twitch and jerk, pussy gushing mixed wetness around him, making an absolute mess as he makes shallow and gentle thrusts, fucking you through your high.

When you come down, you swear you’re seeing stars, mind a mess as Ethan pulls out, man handling you into a straddling position sitting; sitting you back down on his cock, causing your over stimulated pussy to clench and spasm “threes the charm yeah? know you can give me more than that” he kisses your temple, and you can only slump forward into his chest, humming in a mindless agreement.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 3

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Fluff and banter

WC: 2000+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist

“Seresin!” you scream at the top of your lungs, slamming the front door with enough force to knock down the welcome sign hanging in the hall. You groan as all the keys that were hanging off its hooks clatter to the floor, together with the sign. But this incident only makes you more enraged. You stomp down the corridor with your shoes still on, bellowing, “Your bucket of bolts is blocking me in, and I need to leave right now!”

You storm into the living room just as Jake starts stretching on the couch; you see one of his arms extend upward over the upholstery.

“Seresin!” you continue to yell, rounding the corner to get a better look at him. “If you don’t move your clunker, I will kill you I swear to” – but you stop short when you witness the scene before you.

Jake Seresin slowly sits up on your couch, shirtless – most likely butt-naked but his bottom half is obscured by the Frozen-themed fleece blanket your brother got you last year for Christmas – and beside him, a sleeping woman is starting to stir. Jake blinks up at you groggily. “You told me to go on a date,” he croaks when he registers the shock on your face.

You narrow your eyes at him irritably. “I said go, not come and date in my living room!”

“I did go,” he says, starting to rise from the couch. “But then I came back.” Halfway into a standing position, Jake seems to realize that, if he continues rising, his friend will end up in the nude, so he sits back down and glances at you sheepishly. “Do you mind passing me that pillow?” he asks, pointing to the tasselled throw pillow on the second couch.

You grimace. “Please don’t tell me you had sex under my blanket,” you say with disgust as you reach for a pillow and then fling it right at Jake’s face.

Jake catches it swiftly, demonstrating impressive reflexes for someone who’s been awake for less than two minutes. “We didn’t,” he says, leaving the blanket over the woman while using the pillow to cover himself as he collects his clothes from the floor.

“Then why are you naked?” you hiss.

Jake straightens his back and gives you a rueful look. “We didn’t have sex under your blanket,” he clarifies. “We just used it after, because we were cold.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I don’t care!” you snap, even though you absolutely do care and seeing Jake with a random naked chick feels like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to your gut. “Just get dressed and move your damn car, I have to be in class in less than ten minutes!” You glance down at your watch and let out an anxious whine.

Within seconds, Jake has his jeans on and is pulling a t-shirt over his magnificent six-pack. You try your best not to stare and instead find yourself studying the woman who has miraculously been able to sleep through your entire conversation. “Let’s go,” Jake says, walking past you toward the front door.

You release a heavy sigh and start after him. In the foyer, Jake eyes the fallen welcome sign with all the keys still strewn on the floor and then lifts his gaze to look at you pointedly. You make a face at him, and he gives you a small smile before bending down to pick up his car keys.

“It’s a fifteen-minute drive,” he states, slipping on his shoes.

You give him an aggravated look. “You think I don’t know that?”

He opens the door for you, but you shove him through it instead and then jog down to the driveway. When you look back, you see that Jake is still on the porch, his back turned to you as he fiddles with the doorknob.

“Seresin, are you kidding me?” you shout. “If you don’t move this trash heap in the next minute, I will drive through it!”

Jake whistles patronizingly as he skips down the steps toward you. “Simmer down, cupcake,” he says. “I was locking the door.”

You seethe at the nickname as he approaches you with a wide grin. “I will slap you,” you warn.

Jake chuckles, sticking his key into the passenger door to unlock it. “What if I like it?”

You smack him on the shoulder as he opens the door for you. “What are you doing?” you shriek, looking at his dilapidated vehicle in disgust. “Can you please just move this rust bucket so that I can get to class and hand in my paper?”

“Get in!” Jake urges, pressing a hand into your shoulder to force you into the seat. “I’m driving you.”

“I don’t need you to drive me!” you retort, rising back to your feet. “I just need you to get this piece of junk off my driveway” –

“I’m not letting you drive like this,” he says resolutely.

“Like what?” you ask in outrage.

Jake lifts his hands to indicate at your current state and gives you a look. “You’re very stressed out,” he remarks.

You glare at him in disbelief. “Because you are stressing me out!” you scream.

“Be that as it may,” he says calmly, “it’s a fifteen-minute drive, sweet cheeks.” He meets your gaze defiantly and pushes you back down into the seat. “And you need to be there in five.”

You blink up at him crossly but stay put this time.

“Now, you can’t get there in five minutes,” he continues, yanking on the seat belt behind your head and putting into your hand. “But I can.” And, with these words, he slams your door and heads around the front of the car. When he gets in and turns over the engine, he glances at you with a grin. “So, out of curiosity,” he says, “how many nicknames do you have for my car?”

You give him a steely look as he backs out of the driveway. “How many nicknames do you have for me?”

Jake chuckles, releasing the clutch and shifting into second gear, but he doesn’t respond.

You watch him navigate expertly through traffic to get you to your destination, deciding not to press him on the bizarre moment the two of you shared yesterday evening before he finally left you alone. The one that ended with him telling you that he wishes he were your idiot with absolutely no elaboration. Of course, seeing him this morning with a brand-new companion has made you feel like the ultimate idiot in this scenario.

Jake pulls right up to one of the side doors of the building and you unbuckle your seatbelt with lightning speed. “Thanks, Seresin,” you say, climbing out of the car.

“Anytime, peach,” he says, leaning forward to wink up at you before you shut your door.

You roll your eyes. “I’m telling Bradley you had sex on our couch,” you say and then slam the door in his face.

You can see him throw his arms up in protest and reach over to roll down the passenger side window. “Who do you think told me to stay over after insisting I do shots with him?” he yells after you.

You shake your head as you lean into the revolving door of the building. “I’m unimpressed,” you call back.

Jake grins. “So, pretty normal, then?”

…

Your class ends in two hours and you realize that, since you didn’t drive, you’d have to take the bus home. Except, when you walk out of the lecture hall, you see Jake sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a pillar, waiting for you.

“What are you still doing here?” you ask, approaching him cautiously.

Jake rises to his feet and holds his hand out for your bookbag. When you don’t readily give it to him, he slides it off your shoulder and pulls it over his. “You need a ride home, don’t you?”

You stare at him in disbelief. “I could’ve taken the bus, Jake. You didn’t have to come all the way back.”

“I didn’t,” he says. “I never left.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “You’ve been sitting here for two hours?”

Jake shrugs. “Took a walk around campus.”

“What about your friend whom you left naked in my house?”

Jake’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit,” he says.

Your jaw drops as you continue to gape at him. “Are you serious?”

Jake cringes. “I’m an idiot.”

“Oh my god, Seresin,” you say, rubbing your forehead in shock. “I have no words.”

Jake nods, then shrugs again. “Maybe she left,” he says hopefully.

You look up at him as the two of you start walking. “It was a memorable night, then,” you comment sarcastically.

Jake chuckles. “Uh, kind of,” he says. “Not that part, though.”

You glance at him questioningly. “Why, what else happened?”

Jake eyes you hesitantly then promptly looks away. “Never mind.”

You stop walking and Jake, who takes another couple of steps before doubling back, blinks at you expectantly. Your eyes meet as the two of stand in the middle of the busy hallway and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You’re wondering, of course, if he’s referring to the incident that you’ve since decided to dismiss as a slip of the tongue.

Jake sighs impatiently. “We should get back,” he says, his eyes still sweeping over your face.

You swallow uncomfortably and give him a tight smile; clearly he isn’t planning on sharing the part of the evening that was memorable for him. You start to walk again, but Jake takes you by the wrist before you reach the door. You glance back at him as he pulls you toward himself. He isn’t looking at you, however. He nods at something behind you, and you turn to see an AV equipment cart barrelling your way, the person pushing the cart effectively hidden behind a stack of projectors. Jake curls his arm around your stomach, pinning your back to his chest as the cart zooms by.

Meanwhile, your knees nearly give out from the heat of his touch. You look down at the arm still wrapped tightly around your abdomen, holding your breath lest you start hyperventilating. “You alright there, darlin’?” he asks casually as his hand slips away from your waist.

“That was a close call,” you manage to say, turning to face him dazedly.

“Good thing I was here,” he says with a smirk.

You give him a stern look, his smugness having brought you out of your temporary trance. “If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be distracted.”

Jake grins cheekily. “Am I distracting you again?”

You roll your eyes, recognizing that he’s referencing yesterday’s conversation. “You’re insufferable,” you say.

Jake raises his eyebrows. “I might actually prefer it when you insult me rather than my car,” he says as the two of you make your way outside.

“Don’t you worry,” you respond. “I have plenty of insults for the both of you.”

Jake puts his arm around your shoulders when you shiver slightly in your tank top. You try to keep your cool as you walk together toward the parking lot, sinking slightly into his side when the wind picks up as you’re crossing the field. Jake runs his hand up and down your arm to warm you and, in response, a tornado of butterflies, materializing out of nowhere, suddenly swells so violently inside of you that it feels like their collective flying power might lift you right off the ground as you walk.

It’s nice when Jake takes care of you, even though you know he’s only doing it because you’re his best friend’s little sister and he feels some sort of weird obligation to protect you. You wonder if perhaps that’s why you’ve always liked him – because he’s always been there for you, despite being supremely annoying most of the time. His broad shoulders don’t hurt either.

When you reach the car, Jake pulls open your door for you and motions for you to get inside.

“I can get my own door, you know?” you tell him, even though you kind of like it when he does it for you.

Jake gives you an offended look. “Never in my life have I not opened a door for a lady,” he says.

You climb into the vehicle, wondering if you should be pleased to be grouped together with all the ladies in Jake’s life, or discouraged that he’s such a ladies’ man. “Ever the gentleman,” you comment. “Don’t forget the part where you sleep with them and then desert them for hours to fend for themselves at a stranger’s house.”

Jake leans down to peer at you as you buckle your seatbelt. He puts a hand over his chest and frowns playfully. “That hurt,” he says.

You smile at him cheerily. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

Jake grins. “Buttercup,” he says, straightening his back and tapping the hood of the car a couple of times. “I like it.” Then, he shuts your door.

Read Part 4

A/N: Thanks for reading, you guys! These two are so fun to write about, let me know if you want more of them :D Also, if you have prompts for these two in particular, send them my way!

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[threepandas]

Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

Prev <-

A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

[ddejavvu]

Jake and big boobed pregnant reader him coming home and she still in her night gown and him turning the corner and seeing a pile of clothes"sweet heart whats wrong " and her giving him a look that could kill"you know what happens when you are growing a child in everything grows. Boobs grow they are huge and senstive and THEY HURT and it your fault " and you keep throwing clothes in different piles "how is this my fault "

"You and your damn breeding kink "

"You werent complain that night"

You throw a shirt at him that you both know he desvere (if this is too long ignore this part) him coming up behind you and massaging them while you lay your head on his chest"why do they have to grow " mumbling

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Jake typically gets home in time for dinner, but tonight he'd been held past midnight. It means that he's expecting you asleep when he gets home, not sitting topless on the edge of the bed with your face in your hands.

"Woah," He drawls, steps faltering in the doorway of your bedroom, "Darlin', what's the matter? And- where's your shirt?"

The questions have the same answer, and you point lazily to a pile of clothes discarded on the floor.

"And why are the tops in a heap on the floor?" He still doesn't understand, but the convictive tone he'd used doesn't sit right with you, and your head snaps up, eyes ablaze.

"Oh, you wanna know why everything's such a mess? Why the floor is dirty? Why I'm half-naked?!"

"Yes," He says, even if he knows he shouldn't, "That- it would be nice to have answers to all of those."

"It's because of you," You hiss, standing - chest still bare - to stalk towards him, an accusatory finger pointed at his own chest, "You and your stupid penis!"

"Ah," He retreats until his back hits the door, but still you follow, jabbing your finger into his chest, "Um, darlin', do you need bigger shirts?"

"My boobs can't fit in anything!" You gush miserably, "My shirts, your shirts, sweatshirts, dresses, nothing! I couldn't jam 'em into a trash bag if I tried, Jake, a trash bag!"

"Okay," He soothes, grabbing your wrists before you get the idea to strangle him, "Okay. Alright, listen. Let's go shopping tomorrow," He offers, reaching for a blanket to drape over your shoulders, "You can wear one of my brother's sweatshirts, I snagged one from him before I left home and he's a bigger size than I am. 'Should fit. But in the meantime, uh, I'll put away the clothes," He bargains, a placating smile on his face, "Sound good?"

You can't be mad at his offer; he's done everything right. But you still want to be grumpy, so you break away from him grumbling, "You and your damn breeding kink."

He bites back a smirk, bending over with his back to you so that he can mumble to himself, "Weren't complaining 'bout being bred that night, darlin'."

Two things happen in quick succession: You launch a shirt at Jake's head, and land a sharp smack to his denim-clad ass. He deserves both.

[justpoliteconversations]

Midnight Impulses [Chain + Healer!Reader]

Keeping your abilities hidden is difficult when the object of your attention is so close.

It keeps growing. Will the trash heap never end?

Masterlist

TW: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

You stare up at the night sky with a pinched expression, something ominously similar to a pout pulling at your lips. The blankets are pulled up to your nose, and above the soft rim your eyes glare squinty-eyed at the man laying beside you.

In the light of the pit fire, you can see the way his shoulders and back are tense with pain and fitful sleep. The shine of his hair taunts you where it highlights the delicate curve of his ear, the soft pink of a bang an elegant curve contrasting the harsh shadows of the fire light.

His bare skin. If only you could touch his skin without waking him, even just the tips of your fingers. But he's always been cagey, especially when he's in so much pain. He'd snap awake before you could even pull your hand from your covers, and then he'd be awake and suspicious all night. Just like every night before.

Your fingers grip into the inside of your bedroll, jaw clenching, resisting the temptation to rush him while he's vulnerable and force your healing magic into his aching joints and creaking, burning bones.

It wouldn't take long. If you could get your whole hand onto his face or maybe an arm, the deed could be done in less than a minute. He'd struggle, yes, but his gauntlets are off and you could keep him pinned for a few precious seconds after he manages to escape the confines of his covers.

Just one minute of struggle, and it'll be done. Sure, he'll hate you more than ever and will most certainly never trust you again. But his arthritis and damaged body (so damaged, laden with so many old, untreated wounds it makes your heart ache) will be gone.

He'll be free of them all. The pain, the weakness, the insecurities and the memories. He'll finally be able to put all those hurts behind him and just live, free of the burdens his path forced upon him. Free to look forward to a future not overshadowed by the slow, inevitable breaking of his body.

Free of a future that sees him stripped of mobility and restful night by the time he's 30. If he even lives that long, damaged as he's been by the cruel hand of destiny.

It would be worth it. Just one moment of struggle. One final twist and ache of his bones as he fights against your hands and arms and full body grip, and then he'll be released from the bondage of everlasting degeneration. The agony of a body sacrified for the greater good.

Just one-

No. The thought is irrational and unfair to the man in question. It would also reveal your hand to the Chain, and you had no intention of putting yourself in that situation.

You'd learned your lesson. Even the kindest and most honorable of men can be brought low by the promise of life. The guarantee of no more brothers lost to the slow hand of time, and the knowledge that tomorrow will find you and all you love there to greet it.

Life is so precious. Who wouldn't be tempted to keep it forever by your side.

You envied Hyrule. For his strength and his cunning. For no shackles shall ever find his wrists, no tether will ever bind his arms and legs. No force on this plain of existence will ever break his spirit.

You are nothing like him. Not a hero. Not a fairy borne. Not a beloved brother of the many powerful men who came before him.

You are just yourself. Someone who got unlucky with their blessings.

You envied him, for your healing is nothing like his. It is slow and bone deep, poorly suited to the riggers of field wounds but inevitable in its power nonetheless.

In this world of fairies and potions and the blessing of Goddesses, the hand of death will not come in the blaze of battle. No. It will creep slow and steady into the very marrow of your bones. It will start with aches so deep no fairy light can reach them, with a cough so thin no potion can grasp it.

For many, death will not be by the sword, but by the bone deep memory of what it left behind.

If you could still the hand of fate, wouldn't you? Wouldn't they, whom fate has chosen so readily? Even if it cost just a sliver of thier humanity?

You never intended to find out if these men had it in them to pay that price. No need to tempt fate. Not with men like these, who live and die by such sacrifices.

The ear twitches in his sleep and so do your fingers, the shine of his ruffled hair like a siren's call to your eyes.

You suck in a sharp breath. The temptation flaring once more within you, pushing you forward like strong wind at your back. Calling you like the promise of cool water under the desert sun. Like the shelter of home as a thundering storm shakes the land.

It twitches again. The shine of hair.

'Fuck.'

---

"He's messing with them again." Twilight grumbled, arms crossed as he levels his most unimpressed stare at the Vet's back.

Time chuckled, stretching along the log at his back and savoring the smooth roll of muscles and bones unhindered by pain or aches. He couldn't wait to bring you home to Malon and let you work your magic. His beloved wife had even planned out their sleeping arrangements to encourage your helpful nature.

"If Legend wants to drag this out, let him be. He's the only one suffering from it." He smiled then, more of a grin than anything. "And it's cute." The older man admitted impishly, leaning fully back against the log he'd been stretching over in a boneless sprawl.

Twilight wanted to say something back, but honestly couldn't deny any of it. Especially not when Legend rolled over and let his hand fall just inches from your bedroll. And your eyes widened and then narrowed, your mouth twisting into an obvious pout. How you whipped your back to him with a growl, hiding your face in the covers. Only to peek over your shoulder moments later to glare at the motionless hand with a single, leering eye.

Not when Warriors was hiding his face in Wind's sea-salt hair, trying to cover his amused grin and single cracked eye. Not with Wind's shoulders shaking with mirth, just barely hidden beneath Warrior's greater size.

Not with Hyrule smothering his laughter with both hands, back turned purposely to you so you wouldn't see. Not with Sky out like a light, breathing free and soft and unrestrained for the first time since they'd been forced onto this quest.

And not when Time looks so relaxed, spine arched freely like a man who'd not known the burden of the world pressing down on his shoulders. The effortless roll of his muscles a stark contrast to the painful twists of naught a week before.

"Fine." He eventually conceded, narrowing his eyes. "But if this keeps up for more than a week, game's over. They've not slept well in the last 3 days."

Time nodded, eye closing as he began to drift into a light, mediative doze. "Of course. We wouldn't want our shyest member to lose too much sleep over our brother's aches, now would we."

The heavily ringed finger twitched when you rolled back over to face Legend's back and began hesitantly reaching for it. You squawked at the unexpected movement and jerked back, hands flying to your mouth when you realized what you'd done.

Legend opened his eyes then, feigning sleepiness as he snapped. "What are you looking at, hah?"

You glared back. "Nothing!" Before turning your back to him once more and crossing your arms with an even deeper pout. Hunkering down in your covers.

Vet huffed, though an amused grin stole across his face the moment you looked away. "Weirdo." He snapped in a falsly waspish tone, his grin growing when you growled lowly under you breath.

Twilight looked at Time again. Frowning.

"Tomorrow. I'll talk to him." Time hummed in assurance, though he didn't bother to open his eye.

Twilight sighed again, and Time chuckled.

Near the fire, the shifting of covers, the reveal of a bare neck and another quiet gasp. The smothered giggles of Hyrule laying closest to them. The whisper of Warrior's trying to keep Wind from blowing their cover. Four returning from his watch, multi-colored eyes already rolling skyward with exasperation at the now very familiar sight.

'Yeah.' Twilight thought. 'You and me both.'

---

Return to the shadows.

[boxofbonesfic]

I can't stop thinking of possessive fire fighter Thor 😌🥴

welp, nonnie, now I can’t either. maybe you weren’t thinking quite this dark, but… 😅

Title: Everloving

Pairing: Dark!Thor x Reader

Summary: A one night stand has worse consequences than you ever could have imagined.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Arson, Noncon, Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Implied Basement-Wife, Stalking, Breeding, Darkfic, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Minors DNI!

[divider by @firefly-graphics]

You stare at the ceiling over his shoulder as you catch your breath, your fingernails still dug hard into the muscles rippling beneath his skin. You’re still spiraling back down into yourself when he pulls back, leaning up on his elbows to grin dopily at you. His blond hair falls handsomely across his face, and the corners of his bright blue eyes are crinkled with his smile. 

 “See, Peach?” Thor says with a wink, his breath still a little short. “Told you I would take you to Valhalla.” 

 You raise a hand to your head, fingers curling in your hair as you laugh breathlessly. It’s a corny joke—and it was even cornier when he’d fed you the pick-up line in the bar, complete with his sultry little every girl needs a firefighter, Peach. It had been so corny you’d been left wondering if it was specifically engineered to get you to laugh yourself into his bed, but the earnest look on his face makes you second-guess your two minute drunk assessment. The firefighter’s uniform he’d told you about is hung up on the back of the door, too, lending credence to his honesty. 

 “Why is that funnier the second time?” You say, and he laughs. He eases up off of you, and your cheeks heat as you feel him slip out of your puffy, still throbbing cunt. You sit up, pulling his blanket up over your bare chest self-consciously. Thor, it seems, is just as glorious in nudity as he is clothed, back muscles rippling as he turns to the closet, and pulls out a hand towel to clean himself off. You hear a tinny sounding thud as he tosses the condom into the trash-can next to his desk. He offers you a towel and you take one, hurriedly swiping between your own thighs.

 “Do you want to shower?” He asks over his shoulder. “My roommate’s won’t be back for a few hours, so if you wanted to shower and crash—”

 “That’s okay,” You say quickly, snatching your shirt off of the back of his desk chair, using his blanket as a somewhat unconventional toga while you shimmy into it. “I should get going, it’s pretty late.” You flash him an apologetic smile as you tug up your jeans. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” 

 “No, it’s totally fine, they won’t mind. And maybe tomorrow we could get breakfast—”

 “I don’t think so,” you say stiffly. “I’ve got work in the morning.” 

 “Right, right,” he laughs a little awkwardly, stepping back into his briefs. The elastic snaps as he pulls them back up around his waist. “Well, maybe we could go out another time?” 

 You answer him with a shake of your head. “Sorry, I just, um….” You blow out a breath, rocking back and forth on your heels nervously. “I’m not like… looking for a relationship. Right now.” You smile apologetically. “I just, you know. Just got out of one, and it was a whole thing, and I just… I’m not ready, right now for another commitment like that.” His face falls, the boyish grin on his face disappearing as he regards you. 

 “Oh.” 

 “I’m sorry,” you say again, feeling the tension thick in the air between you. “I um. I had fun.”

 “Yeah. Me too.” A look you can’t read crosses his face, and he lifts his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it. He doesn’t say anything else as you shrug back into your jacket and flee his room, navigating back down the dark hallway toward the door. Your sneakers are in a messy heap by the front door where you left them, and you step into them quickly, eager to be out of his apartment. 

 You pull up your rideshare app as you walk down the block, trying to put a little distance between yourself and Thor before you call. For some reason, you don’t want to do it right outside, not that you think he’d watch you through the window like some creeper—

 Or would he?

 Either way, you call when you’ve reached the bodega on the end of his block, and in five minute Jeffery in a white Hyundai Sonata is pulling up to the curb. 

 Omw home. Your text pops into the roommate groupchat, and it’s not thirty seconds before you see three different speech bubbles appear in the bottom left corner. 

 Heather: girl. it’s one-am!!!!

 Bobbie: girl shut up, she was getting her back blown out by that hot blond lmao

 Heather: twisted into pretzels lolll

 Kirsten: none of you are asking the real questions. how was it???????

 You stifle your laughter with your hands, glancing at the rearview mirror before responding. 

 I will be home in ten minutes. You all will just have to wait. You are, of course, greeted by shrill giggles and questions the moment you walk through the door. You deliver the details as painlessly as you can muster, choosing not to describe the heartbroken look on Thor’s face when you’d tried to let him down as gently as you could. 

 “I mean, you’re totally right. You shouldn’t jump into anything so quick, not after Jimmy.” Bobbie nods sagely at you in approval. 

 “I dunno. He seemed sweet,” Kirsten says dreamily. “Might be a nice guy.” 

 “He was looking for a serious girlfriend, K,” you reply, stretching as you turn toward your room. “And I am not doing serious right now. Bobbie’s right.” 

 After a hot shower, you flop tiredly onto your bed and burrow under the covers. You’re still a little sore from earlier, and you bite your lip, wondering if you’d made a mistake. No harm in letting him shoot his shot, right? That’s what Heather had told you in the bar when he’d first begun sending you drinks, and what had rung in your head when your casual conversation had become boldly flirtatious. 

 There are plenty of other fish in the sea for him. You turn over, pressing your face gratefully into the pillow, confident that by tomorrow morning, Thor wouldn’t even remember your name. 

 ——

 The smell of smoke wakes you, only seconds before Bobbie is hurriedly shaking you awake. 

 “Fire! Fire get up now!” 

 Blearily you sit up, registering the shrill beeps of the fire-alarm just before you choke on thick, hot smoke. It’s filling the room, curling against the ceiling as you sit up, shoving your feet into your slippers. Bobbie’s hand is tight around yours as the two of you race for the door, followed by Heather and Kirsten. The hallway is filled with the other residents, everyone rushing out of the building in a crushing stampede. You’re dizzy, your throat hoarse and your eyes red and watering as you and your roommates watch your lives billow up into the night sky. 

 The street outside is chaos as the firetrucks arrive, men in uniform pushing through the crowd. You’re still staring numbly at your burning apartment building when large hands land on your shoulders. 

 “Peach? Peach you okay?” Thor pushes up his visor, his face filled with worry. 

 “She’s inhaled a lot of smoke, she was the last to get out,” Bobbie says worriedly. You’re forced to agree—every breath feels raw, like you’d swallowed some of the fire yourself. “Is there an ambulance coming?”

 “Yes, there is, but if it’s that bad, I should take her to the hospital now,” He says, snapping his visor back down. Thor’s grip is like iron as he steers you towards the back of one of the small response vehicles, and he hands you an oxygen mask and a little tank. “Breathe through this for a little while, Peach. You’ll feel better in no time.” 

 The street is clogged with vehicles, and Thor steers patiently around them while you sit in the back and try to catch your breath. The smell of the fire, the lights and the sound of sirens fade gradually behind you as you watch the building disappear in the rearview mirror. Eventually, all you can see is the thick column of smoke curling into the still dark sky in the distance as Thor gets onto the highway. His blue eyes meet yours in the mirror. 

 “How are you feeling?” He asks. The oxygen is certainly helping, though you aren’t sure if you’re supposed to be feeling quite this light and giggly. Oxygen deprivation makes you high right? Or is that something else?

 “Like I almost got barbecued,” you say, lowering the mask. A hoarse laugh escapes you. “Sorry. But I did almost die.”

 He smiles at you in the mirror. “It’s alright. A bit of morbid humor is to be expected.” You realize with a glance out of the window that you’re far past the hospital. It isn’t funny, but you giggle. In fact, he’ll be out of the city limits in another few minutes. “Besides, It’s probably the nitrous.” You squint at him. 

 “What?”

 “Nitrous Oxide, Peach. In the canister.” He winks at you, though he’s spinning in the rearview—or is it my head? Your limps are limp and uncooperative as you tug at the mask, gasping for air as your vision tunnels. You get it off, but it isn’t enough, and you gape at the air like a fish as you try to swallow it down into your lungs.

 Your ears are ringing, and black spots dance in your vision as you slump sideways over in the seat. The roof of the car swims in and out of focus as you gulp down lungful after lungful of air. You don’t know how long Thor’s been driving when he pulls over—twenty minutes? Thirty? But your head is still buzzing, your vision unfocused when Thor opens the back door. 

 “I am sorry you got hurt, Peach,” he says, managing to sound disgustingly apologetic as he reaches for you. You kick at him, but he’s so big and so coordinated and you are not, and he presses you to the seat, hovering over you like he had earlier this evening. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

 His admission drags a ragged sob from your throat as your eyes widen. You wail, your struggles renewing themselves until you’re exhausted. Thor remains immoveable above you, like your efforts have done nothing but delay, and perhaps irritate him. 

 “You set the fire.” He doesn’t deny it.

 “Magnesium shavings and alcohol.” He taps the tip of your nose with a finger.  “I like you so much, Peach. I just… I couldn’t watch you go out again with someone else.” He catches both of your wrists in one large hand and pins them to the seat beneath you. 

 “T-Thor,” your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “S-stop, I—”

 He hushes you with a kiss, moaning as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You whimper into his mouth and he swallows it hungrily, sucking your lower lip between his teeth and worrying it until it swells. 

 “I just want to start over,” he repeats your words from the bar, hours—a lifetime—ago back to you, dark sincerity dripping from every word. “Pick up and start over—”

 “Shut up!” You cry, tears welling in your frightened eyes. “You don’t know me!”

 “Maybe not yet,” he hums, dragging his lips down the salty tracks over the curve of your cheek. “But we have time.” The fingers of his free hand slip beneath the loose elastic waistband of your pajama pants to cup your bare pussy. He heaves a pleased sigh. “No panties? Peach you are truly a treasure.” He parts your lips with sure, unhurried motions, his fingers sliding through your folds. 

 You try to close your thighs around his hand, but he doesn’t let you, wedging himself between your thighs. 

 “P-please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—” You babble apologies that he doesn’t seem to hear, his touches ironically soft and unhurried. “Thor please—!” His lips crush against yours again, turning the words into a frightened squeak. 

 “What’s the matter, Peach?” He asks, trailing down your jaw and over your pulse point. “Nothing we haven’t done before.” Thor’s pleased little hum makes shame curl in your belly. You’re wet. You know you are, and you hate yourself for it as he draws his fingers back and forth, spreading the slick through your folds with practiced ease. “See? She even remembers me.”

 Thor circles your entrance with gentle strokes, and you huff through your teeth to hide the whine that threatens to tumble from your lips. You hate him, his soft persistent kisses, the drag of his fingers through your traitorously aching folds. You hate it because it feels good, because he’s making it feel good, because it feels like you’re shattering into a thousand fractured shards in his capable hands, and you get the feeling that he wants you to. 

 Can’t fix what isn’t broken.

 You whimper at the burning stretch of his fingers, the heel of his palm grinding deliciously against your clit. When you clench your teeth against the pleasure, Thor clucks his tongue at you. 

 “Let it feel good, Peach,” he coos, scissoring his fingers inside of you. Your breath hitches loudly in your throat, and Thor moans deeply at the sight, leaning down to suck a bruise onto your collarbone. “You don’t have to be in control anymore. You can let go.” He mumbles the words darkly against your skin as you feel his hips shift up. 

“You can just let me—” Thor reaches between your bodies, tugging the band of his briefs down over the thick shaft of his cock. “Do the thinking for both of us.” He groans as it pops out from under the elastic, slapping against the puffy, slick lips of your pussy. 

 Thor’s lips part in a soft “o” as he slides his cock back and forth, eyes rolling up to stare sightlessly through the roof of the car. His fingers dig into the fleshy curve of your hip, the other forcing your wrists down harder into the seat cushion. Tears are leaking out of the corners of your eyes and running down into your hair, acceptance settling like lead as you realize this is happening. 

 The head of his cock throbs hard as he pushes it against your swollen clit. You push down on the pleasure as hard as you can, trying not to let it show on your face. It’s useless though, as your thighs begin to tremble around his hips from the steady pressure at your clit. You writhe, trying in vain to buck him off. You only succeed in pushing yourself against him, pleasure rolling in sticky warm waves up your spine. 

 “N-no, ah—” You’re cumming then, your words are lost in the choked sob that tightens your throat. Cheeks flush with heat, you turn tear-filled eyes to Thor’s. He looks at you with an manic kind of joy, his fever bright eyes drinking in every detail. Your pussy is still throbbing, clenching tightly around nothing when Thor begins to line the head of his cock up with your cunt. He sinks in slowly, cursing as you squeeze down around him. 

 “Better with no condom, isn’t it Peach?” He says hoarsely, chuckling. “Not that that one made much of a difference,” Thor sinks in to the base, the heavy weight of his balls slapping wetly against you as he revels in the feel of you. “Poked it full of holes, just in case.” 

 He doesn’t give you time to mull over the words before he’s sliding out, sparks shooting in front of your open eyes as his cock drags along your walls. Thor groans as he fills you again, loosing your wrists so that he can anchor you to him with both hands. There is room in your foggy head for shame, but it does nothing to stop the sticky sweet rush of pleasure as he fucks into you with abandon, the truck rocking hard with his efforts. 

 What’s worse is that you can hear it, the lewd wet noise it makes as he slides into your welcoming cunt. You whine low in your throat as he pinches your clit between two fingers, rolling it back and forth until you’re twitching underneath him. Thor laughs. 

 “See?” He asks breathlessly. “And you say I don’t know you.” He leans down to kiss you again, swallowing the pathetic little cry you let out as he drags you over the edge. You hate that he’s all around you, in you, everywhere, filling you up until you’re overflowing. 

 When you cum, again it’s with Thor’s tongue in your mouth, and his throbbing cock in your cunt. He moans against your lips as his hips still, and dimly, you’re aware of slow, sticky heat settling in your core. He doesn’t move, his body pinning you to the seat. When he finally leans away, you try your best to pull your t-shirt back down over your bare breasts, staring stubbornly at the back of the front seat. 

 “Oh, Peach, don’t be mad at me,” he says, tucking his fingers beneath your chin. He pulls until it hurts, and you’re forced to look at him. You hate that he’s still inside of you, his cum leaking out to pool on the seat underneath your ass. He reaches down beneath the seat for something, but you can’t quite see it. “We’re going to be so good together.” 

 He produces the nitrous tank and mask, and your eyes widen with fear as you begin to struggle. It isn’t hard for him to push it against your face, though, and you hear a squeak as he twists open the valve. The gas rushes into the mask with a hiss, and it only takes a few panicked breaths before your vision begins to dim.

 “You’ll see.” 

 end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[the-cauldron-witch]

Eeeermmmm👉👈

13. "I'm not letting go, so you can stop fighting it." With raph pls(or anybody, people usually specify the character too but I see you didn't ask for that so I wasn't sure).. :^

That's absolutely okay! I probably would have written for Raph anyhow, it's a very Raph coded line honestly. I hope you enjoy! 🫂🫂🫂

Tag list: @silverwatergalaxy @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @yorshie @truffle-draws-turtles @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen

The last set of stairs felt like a mountain as you trudged up them, each step sending a wave of pain from your feet up to your hips as you ascended. After standing on your feet all day working a double shift from 7AM to 7PM, not to mention every single break continuously being interrupted by coworkers asking for assistance or some stupid question they could literally ask anybody else, it felt like your day just had no end to it. Just a little further, you kept thinking despite feeling like the hallway was impossibly long.

Once at your apartment door you let out a withering sigh, you knew all too well your day wasn’t over just yet. Behind the beige painted door awaited more chores; the dishes you had been neglecting since yesterday, various laundry piles scattered about your room growing with each passing day, on top of the floors that needed desperate vacuuming and trash that you forgot to take out when leaving this morning. Keys jingling as you unlock the deadbolt, you dragged yourself inside and wanted to simply collapse.

Exhaustion weighed so heavily on your shoulders you almost didn’t register the sound of your kitchen faucet running. Did you leave it on this morning? No, you couldn’t have, you didn’t even have time to make coffee this morning because you woke up late. It didn’t come as a surprise to you though, knowing well who was using your sink. Kicking your shoes off with enough force for them to bounce on the floor once before joining the other pairs in a heap, you round the corner to the kitchen.

“Hey, you,” You called as you entered the kitchen, tossing your belongings onto your kitchen table. Cutting off the faucet and drying his hands Raph turned from the sink and smiled at you warmly, plucking the dish towel from where it hung on the wall. “Did you really do my dishes for me?”

“And your laundry and trash is taken out as well,” Raph stated proudly, grinning widely as your shoulders slouched with pure relief. It felt like a weight had been physically removed from your shoulders. Hanging the dish towel back on its hook Raph gave you no time to thank him, his massive arms sweeping you clean off your feet and holding you to his chest.

“Ah! What’re you doing?” You giggled as Raph began walking to your living room, squirming and kicking your feet in a half-hearted attempt to escape his grasp. Rolling his eyes he didn’t respond to you verbally, simply holding you tighter against his chest to keep you there.

“I’m not letting go, so you can stop fighting it” He chuckled, squeezing you firmly against his chest while leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. Not giving you a chance to question further, Raph hopped himself over the back and flopped onto the couch as lightly as a three hundred-something pound turtle could. Pizza, some of your favorite drinks, snacks, and plenty of blankets.

Grabbing one of the many blankets crumpled onto the couch, Raph kept you pressed against his plastron gently while getting comfortable on and settling down on the couch. With how little energy you currently were running on there was absolutely none left to argue, so you didn’t. Resting your head against his chest and listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat you finally allowed your body to relax against the warmth of your boyfriend.

[bbyquokka]

my soul mate is my cat

pairing: lee minho x gender-neutral reader

genre: angst with a comfort ending – MDNI

synopsis: you adopt a cat to help ease the pain realising he is similar to someone you once held close to you

warnings: animal adoption, mental health, loneliness, unable to care for oneself, soft ending, soul mates, reincarnation

words: 1.7k ~ (1,704)

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

“why don't you adopt a cat!” you look up at your best friend and laugh.

“a cat?” you scoff. “seriously?”

your best friend nods and grins before taking a sip of their spirit. you're both out on a best friend date, eating at a local café whilst catching up on life.

“why not? cats are easy to take care off!” 

“i can hardly look after myself let alone an animal.” you chuckle softly.

“oh c'mon yn! are you not lonely since.. well, y'know..” you swallow as your best friend trails off. you let out a sad sigh as you look down at your pastry, suddenly feeling nauseous and the pastry looking unappetizing.

you have noticed that the days are long but the nights are even longer. since being alone, your apartment has felt twice the size of what it usually is. you haven't become lazy per say but the appeal of washing dishes and doing laundry just drains you the more you think about it, causing a pile to build and build until it becomes unmanageable. everything just reminded you of him, of minho. you hated being in the same four walls for that exact reason but you feared that if you left, you’d forget so you willingly trapped yourself.

you'd worry you'd forget about his smell. how he sounded. how he dressed. you still have all his belongings, scared and refusing to throw them out or give them away. every item of clothing still holds his scent, that scent that brings you so much comfort yet such sadness. everything of his still sits on your dressing table. photos, trinkets, dried up flowers, expired amusement park tickets–they're all memories.

nothing has quite been or felt the same. you went from being incredibly loved and being in love by an amazing and wonderful human to feeling nothing. just an empty shell walking and breathing. the only reason you are out right now is because your friend practically barged into your home unwelcomed, forced you to get dressed and dragged you out.

you can't deny that it feels nice to be outside again. the wind on your skin, the chirps of the birds and the buzz of pedestrians however, that part of you just wants to go home and bury yourself under heaps of blankets.

“c'mon yn. i think it'd be good for you. if not, at least think about it.” 

and think about it you do. as you wander around your apartment, all you can think about is a cat wandering around your home. maybe having a fluffy companion would do you some good. maybe it would bring you back and light that spark that's been extinguished.

the more the think about it, the more you want it. a sudden burst of energy rips through your body as you clean up your home. putting laundry in the machine, cleaning up dishes and throwing away trash. you bleach and disinfect every surface in your home, scrubbing until you can see your reflection in the counter tops. 

once that was done, you venture off to the pet store to grab the necessities. cat tree, scratching post, food and water bowls, litter box and litter alongside some food, treats and toys. maybe you overspent and the cat wouldn't use half of what you bought but it's better to be safe than sorry.

you made sure you home is cat friendly, feeling like you're baby proofing the apartment. you tuck away any loose cables, hide anything that could be potentially swallowed and cause harm. you haven't even decided if you want a cat or a kitten but either way, you will know once you come face to face with the animals.

“hi. i'm looking to adopt a cat.” you say to the shelter worker. you walked to your local shelter knowing it's better to adopt than to shop. they smile at you before asking you some questions and filling out some paperwork before leading you to the kennels.

there, you see a whole array of animals. puppies, kittens, dogs, cats. some old, some new. some frightened and some jumping all over the place with excitement. your heart melts but at the same time drops. seeing all these animals in kennels that have been abandoned and are waiting for their forever home, makes you wish you could just scoop them all up and take them home.

but for now, you can only pick one.

as you walk along the kennels, cooing and sighing at the adorable faces of the many breeds of dogs and cats, do you stop at one in particular.

you squat down as the cat stands from its resting place, uncurling itself and stretching out its stale limbs. it's a black, long coat cat with white around it's paws making it look like it's wearing socks. a little white moustache and white chest with long whiskers and pointy ears with tuffs of fur at the tips.

“hi.” you whisper as you put your hand up close to the metal. the cat sniffs your fingers, its pink nose twitching with each sniff before headbutting and rubbing its head on the bars. you stroke the back of its neck gently, heart melting as it starts to purr loudly.

“i want this one.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it's been a few weeks since you adopted the cat, who's name is lee. lee was wary at first, hiding in the bathroom and nervous of its new surroundings and new noises. you spent time sitting outside the bathroom door trying to gently coax him out of the bathroom and let him know that he is safe.

soon enough, he gingerly stepped out off the bathroom, rubbing his head and body on your legs and hands as he would beg for attention. once lee knew he was safe did he show you his true side.

you learnt that he is a very playful yet stubborn cat. you'd catch him on the counter top (or even on top of the fridge) every time you tell him down, he would look at you and groom himself. you can't do anything about it though; he's a cute cat!

as you both slowly get accustomed to one another do you start to notice traits; traits that are all to familiar to you.

the slow blinks, the stubbornness, the playfulness. how he would meow at you when asking specific questions. the head tilts and the sudden swat of his paw on your hand; it's hard to explain to others but to you, you just know

it's a feeling you're all too familiar with. it's habits and traits you know far too well. you didn't want to believe it at first but now you're forced to. you even went as far as showing him a picture to which he nudged at and purred–like he is trying to tell you something.

you watch as he slowly sits up and stretches from your lap. your eyes widen at a distance mark on his fur in the same place as someone who was once close to you. lee looks at you and gives you slow blinks and purrs loudly as your eyes slowly full with tears.

“you're just like him, yknow.” you whisper. lee continues to give you soft blinks before gently placing his white paw on your cheek, his toes beans feeling soft yet firm against your skin. his fur soaking up your tears before he leans in and gently licks your cheek. his scratchy tongue swiping along your cheek as he gives you kisses to which you giggle at and hold him close to your chest.

─── ･ ｡��☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“i'm not crazy.” you protest to your friend over the phone. “i swear, they're just like him!” 

“yn.. i know you miss him but that's impossible.”

“is it? i mean, don't you believe in the whole afterlife thing? y'know, being reborn and whatnot.”

“not particularly, no. it's just bizarre how you think that. are you ok, yn? like, really really ok?” you sigh deeply, rubbing your face with your hand.

“peachy. look, i know i sound crazy but it's true. it's just everything lee does is so alike to him. since adopting him, i feel more alive! like i have a purpose.”

“and that's great yn! but to say he is exactly like him is a little bizarre don't you think?” 

“well, yeah but– ah, never mind. look, i have to go. talk to you soon.” you hang up with a defeated sigh. of course they wouldn't believe you. you wouldn't if someone told you what you told your friend. they would have to see it to believe it; but even then, would they?

you drag your feet to your bedroom, smiling as you see lee curled up on his side of the bed. you flop down on your stomach, disturbing lee from his nap. his head shoots up, a tired and disapproved meow causing you to laugh softly.

“sorry darling. i didn't mean to wake you.” lee puts his head back down before letting out a big yawn. his ears twitching and soft purrs emitting as you gently pat his soft and silky fur.

“maybe i am a little crazy.” you say with a soft chuckle. “could you not give me a sign or something? i'll take anything at this point.” 

lee looks at you before getting up off the bed and walking out. you watch with a sad smile feeling defeated and your heart weighing you down.

moments later, lee walks back into the bedroom. he jumps up on the bed and drops a piece of clothing by your face. it's a sock but not just any sock–it's his favourite sock.

you sit up, holding the sock close to your chest as tears stream down your cheeks. you let out broken sobs as lee stands on his hind legs, front paws on your arms as he reaches up. you laugh softly, leaning down to allow him to lick your cheek slowly and gently to soothe you.

you scoop him up and nuzzle into his soft furr, getting it wet with your tears. lee endures it, purring softly and rubbing his face against your cheek.

“it's really you.” you whisper. “welcome back, my love.” 

note: idek. i saw a tiktok ok and it prompted me to do this. i have no words, sdjn;aslfb! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @fairylouist ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @telesvng

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Phil knew that living out in the middle of nowhere brought the danger of wild animals, but he thought he'd taken his precautions.

He'd built fences around the cabin, lit torches when needed and his garden was occupied by a frankly fucking ridiculous amount of scarecrows to keep those pesky birds (and other critters) away from his crops. And yet, for the sixth time in as many days, he'd woken up to find his trash overturned and his food scraps dug through, with clear claw marks on the wood.

He felt bad doing it, he really did. But at this rate, he wouldn't feel safe allowing Wilbur and Tommy outside anymore. So after a week of this torment, Phil put down a snare.

The animal doing this couldn't be much bigger than a dog from what Phil could tell. It might even be one, a feral mutt from a nearby village. Though Phil found that hard to believe. Whatever it was, the snare would hopefully catch it. Then Phil could deal with it himself, even if that meant killing it.

That was the plan... that had been the plan...

The wolf pup Phil watched struggling in his snare was smaller than he expected. Malnutrition probably had stunted its growth. It must not have a pack to care for it - truthfully Phil was surprised to see a wolf this far south at all. Maybe its mother had set out to establish a new territory but had died on the way, leaving the pup to fend for itself. Or it was abandoned because of its unusual genes. Whatever the reason was, the thing looked more pathetic than a carnivorous animal had any right to, all unkempt white fur and bright red-pink eyes that looked around for an escape route.

Its teeth were bared in an intimidating snarl, snapping at Phil's hand when he tried to reach out.

"I'm not- Look, I'm sorry, okay." Phil had no fucking clue why he was talking to it. Maybe he was losing it a little, but there was a strange sense of intelligence radiating from this animal. For some reason, he felt like it would understand.

And almost as if to confirm that, the pup calmed down when he apologized, sitting on its haunches to stare at him suspiciously.

Yeah, Phil must be losing his mind for sure.

"Let me just get you out of there."

The metal wire had cut into the wolf's hind paw, blood soaking into the grass. What had seemed like such a clever idea this morning suddenly made Phil feel stupidly guilty.

He loosened the snare. As soon as it fell away, the pup tried to take off but then it instantly stumbled over its injured paw, landing in a heap. It wouldn't be able to walk anywhere. Phil grabbed it, mildly relieved it didn't instantly bite him. He carried it inside.

Carefully, Phil tended to the wound and settled the pup on the couch with an improvised nest made of blankets. The wolf curled up in it, tilting its head curious as if it didn't entirely understand what Phil was doing.

Phil didn't understand it himself. 

From the moment he laid eyes on the pup, he could tell there was something... off about it. It was just too hard to pinpoint what. Could be the sleep deprivation, of course. Maybe that was why, after he made sure the pup was all settled and the doors were locked so it couldn't go off causing trouble, Phil fell asleep on the couch himself. Right before he drifted off, he could feel the animal shift to lie against him.

And when he woke up, it was to two blue eyes blinking up at him instead.

Phil watched in pure confusion as the boy sat up, stretched his arms over his head, and then rubbed slightly over his long pink hair. Somehow he looked just as unkempt in this form, and just as tiny too. He was probably only a couple years younger than Wilbur. The boy held his stomach with a little frown.

"Are you... hungry?" Phil asked.

They looked up at him and nodded.

With a smile, Phil sighed and stood. "Let's get you some breakfast then." 

If there was one thing nobody could say about Phil, it would be that he didn't adjust to the weird things life was ever so fond of throwing on his path.

Now if only he could figure out how he was going to explain this to Wilbur and Tommy.

[evansbby]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: noncon, dubcon, somnophilia, daddy kink, dark Steve, lactation kink, breeding kink, a/b/o dynamics, some feet stuff, oral (female receiving), 18+ minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve is horny but you’re asleep. That doesn’t mean he won’t have his fun...

(𝑨/𝑵): This is heavy with the somno, so please beware of that! If it isn’t your cup of tea, feel free to ignore and move on! 

It’s only 11 at night when Steve walks back into his house. Sam and Bucky are still at the party, but Steve had grown bored within an hour. The truth was, parties didn’t hit the same anymore. Just a bunch of drunk assholes and slutty cheerleaders grinding against each other in a dark haze of alcohol and weed. And as much as Steve tried to enjoy himself, his mind would always drift back to you.

His little omega, perfectly quiet and shy. Safe and sound in his bedroom (he’d locked the doors of the house before he’d left, lest you sneak out. Not that you ever would). Sometimes, he drags you along to these parties only because you look so deliciously uncomfortable and cling to him in the sexiest way. He also likes showing you off from time to time, knowing that the other alphas would kill to have you.

But mostly, Steve likes keeping you safe in his bedroom. He likes walking in to you studying on his desk or his bed, with your little Steve Junior under your arm. Wearing Steve’s old football jersey that completely dwarfs you, his mark on your neck peeking out from under your hair and reminding him of his complete and utter ownership over you.

Fuck, now Steve’s hard. He hopes you’re not asleep, because he can’t wait to sink into your tight little snatch, feel you squeeze around his cock like it’s your job. You’re always so ready for him, so needy for his dick and so snug around it, all weepy and grabby as your feral desire overtakes your shyness. Jesus fucking Christ, his dick is harder than a rock, and he all but sprints up to his bedroom.

You’re asleep. And goddamit, you look so fucking cute. Wrapped up in the comforter like a little burrito in the middle of his king-sized bed. Your head resting on Steve’s pillow rather than your own, and your Steve Junior teddy cuddled up in your arms. Steve feels his mouth quirk up into a smile before he stops himself – he’s no pussy simp! But you do look cute as fuck, so sweet and innocent. So different from all the other sluts he’s used to.

Slowly, Steve peels the comforter off your body before rolling his eyes because underneath that, you’ve covered yourself even further with your little fuzzy blanket that’s more ratty than it is fuzzy. Omegas and their damn nesting tendencies. Steve makes a mental note to order you a new blanket as he sheds this one off of you, only to be greeted by a host of stuffed animals covering your body in yet another layer that he has to get past.

“Fucking asshole toys.” He mutters, before shoving all your toys (except Steve Junior) into a haphazard heap on the floor, making sure to give one or two of them a hard punch in the face for being annoying.

And sure, Steve realises that his room is a lot more feminine now ever since you moved in – flowery bedsheets and stuffed animals everywhere and your beautiful perfumey scent covering everything he owns. But he doesn’t mind as much as he initially thought he would. When Sharon was his girlfriend, he never let her live with him but she would spend the night and try to mess with his stuff by putting her own things on his desk. Best believe, Steve would chuck her random shit in the trash, but you? You’re different.

“So fucking cute…” He murmurs to himself, watching you shiver and hold on tightly to Steve Junior, your nose digging into his fur and a sweet little frown on your face at the loss of warmth from the lack of comforter. He can’t help but stroke your cheek with his knuckles, loving how soft you are. So sweet and pretty and perfect. And most importantly, all his. Every inch of your body belongs to Steve, and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Baby, you have no idea how horny I am right now.” He tells you, continuing to stroke your face while you lay asleep on his pillow. He casually palms his dick with his other hand, already feeling like he’ll blow his load just from looking at you sleeping. “And look at you, fast asleep when you’re the one who gets daddy all riled up in the first place.”

“Steve?” You mumble, scrunching your nose cutely, and it looks like you’re stirring. But you only toss and turn a bit before getting comfortable again, and Steve resumes stroking your cheek for a while before his hand starts slipping down. Down past your delicate neck which bares not only his mark, but often also the imprints of his fingers after he’s choked you during a particularly rough fuck. Down to your chest, covered in his old jersey filled with holes.

He pushes the jersey up over your breasts, watching, almost hypnotised, as your nipples harden in the cool air. God, he loves your tits so fucking much, and you look so pretty all nude and bathing in the moonlight.

It reminds him of the early days, before he’d claimed you. Sometimes, he’d follow you home. Well, that ratty dorm room you called home. And it was all too easy to stand outside your window, watch you change because you were too dumb to draw your curtains. And those moments when you were bare, the moonlight painting you a pretty silver and you being completely unaware that Steve was watching you… Fuck, how beautiful you’d looked. And how hard Steve would cum every time he’d jack off to the memory.

Except not anymore, because now he has you in his bed. His own personal omega to do with as he pleases. Awake or asleep, it doesn’t matter to Steve – he owns you after all. In fact, you should thank him for being thoughtful and not waking you up. And a part of him does want to wake you up so he can fuck the living daylights out of you while you whine and cry all sleepily. But there’s just something about you, asleep and innocent, not knowing he’s watching you and touching you.

Fuck, he can’t help but lean down to suck your nipple. You’re practically begging for it, after all! Lying there with your nipples so hard they could cut glass. And you let out the cutest little whimper when his mouth latches onto one of your breasts, almost as if you’re having a dirty dream about him. Steve really hopes you are, because he has sex dreams about you all the time. He has ever since he first saw you.

“God, your tits are so sexy, baby.” He tells you as he squeezes and sucks. And Steve loves sucking your nipples, he could do it for hours if it was feasible. He loves how you card your fingers through his hair (when you’re awake, that is) and press his face more into your breasts while you whine like a baby. Sometimes, he likes to pretend you’re pregnant and he’s sucking your milk as you let him feed from you. God, that would be so fucking sexy – he can’t wait till he knocks you up.

“Mmhmm.” You mumble in your sleep, and Steve smirks against your nipple, licking and biting and grazing his teeth against it, sucking your whole breast into his mouth obscenely, wishing he had set his camera up so he could’ve got all of this on tape. And then he’d make you watch it tomorrow morning and threaten to post it online. (Not that he ever would, but he loves making you cry and beg).

“Daddy knows,” He tells you when he glances up to see you still asleep but your lips have formed the shape of an ‘o’ and there’s a tell-tale furrow between your brow. “Daddy knows what a dirty girl you are, how you like it when I use your body while you sleep.” He switches to your other breast, wanting to bite down hard but knowing you’d wake up if he did. He squeezes and pushes your tits together as he sucks obscenely, his hard dick poking against your leg through his jeans as he hovers over you. Damn, he can’t wait till you’re pregnant and lactating, and your tits would be so fucking huge and heavy when you’d breastfeed him.

“God, you’re teasing me, aren’t you, baby omega?” Steve lets go of your nipple with a pop, admiring his saliva shining all over your bare breasts. “You just had to look all sexy while you slept, didn’t you? It’s all your fault that I have to use you like this, baby. All your fault. But that’s okay, because daddy’s gonna make you feel good too.”

And with that, he continues exploring your body. Stroking and fondling and licking his way down your stomach, making sure to poke his tongue into your belly button. You shuffle a bit at that, but Steve holds your body in place and watches intently as you mumble something unintelligible before relaxing into deep sleep once more.

“Let’s see how wet your little baby pussy is, shall we?” Steve asks, and he can feel his excitement because his blood is rushing straight down to his dick. If he was hard before, he can’t even describe how uncomfortable his boner is now. Quickly, he undoes his fly and pulls his dick out, hissing in relief once his throbbing length bobs up against his abs.

He grabs your thighs, taking a moment to appreciate how soft you feel, before prying your legs apart. And he knows you’re not wearing any panties because he forbade you from doing so in bed. (He needs easy access at night and in the morning when he fucks you). And your bare pussy glistens in the moonlight and fuck, Steve feels like a salivating animal. He gets the sudden feral urge to mount you and fuck you so hard, fill you up over and over again with his seed while you scream for him to stop because he’s being too rough.

Instead, Steve closes his eyes for a second and savours your sweet scent. God, your pussy smells so good. It’s like your scent but amplified. And the best part? You’re completely soaked. He can’t believe just how wet you are, your pussy glistening in the moonlight as you lay all spread out before him. You’ve even dripped down onto his sheets, leaving a damp patch underneath you and Steve is utterly transfixed.

“Naughty little baby, look at the mess you’ve made,” he scolds, giving your thigh a gentle slap. He wants to hit you harder but he knows you’ll wake up if he does. “Look how fucking soaked you are for daddy.” He glances down at his dick which he’s slowly pumping with his other hand. Instinctively, he swipes the bead of precum from the head of his cock and looks up at your face wickedly, “Daddy’s hard for you too, omega.”

He rubs his precum on your lower lip, breath hitching at the sexiness of it all. And you look so pretty and sleepy, immediately licking your lips and moaning softly while he stares at you with wide eyes. “Mmm,” you whimper, and it’s the sexiest little whimper ever. And, as if things couldn’t get any hotter, your lips latch onto his thumb, sucking his digit while Steve swears under his breath.

“You’re a little freak in the sheets even when you’re asleep, aren’t you?” He marvels, letting you suckle his thumb while his dick throbs with need. “God, none of the guys would believe what a slutty little thing you are behind closed doors. Sucking on daddy’s thumb like a little slut? And after I’ve fed you my cum? Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking sexy and you have no fucking idea, do you?”

You don’t answer, of course, but you pout in your sleep when he removes his thumb from your mouth. He gives your cheek a few condescending pats before refocusing on your pussy. Fuck, Steve’s practically salivating at your sweet little cunt all splayed out for him, and you’re none the wiser while you sleep, clutching that damned Steve Junior in your arms.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to dig in like he’s a starved man. His lips immediately latch around your clit, which is puffy and swollen and so cute. He sucks hard, eyes widening when you let out the loudest moan yet. But then you settle back down, still asleep, and Steve continues as if he’s famished and about to start a five-course-meal.

“Your cute little button’s all puffy, baby.” Steve tells you, “I wonder what you’re dreaming about that’s got you all worked up.” He puffs his chest out, “Well, I know it’s me. And tomorrow you’ll act all innocent like you always do, and stutter all cutely as if you aren’t acting like a little whore in heat right now.”

And sure enough, you’re steadily grinding down on Steve’s face, unconscious as ever but he just loves the feel of your wet cunt against his face. Half of him wants to flip both of you over so that you’re sitting on his face, completely smothering him with your sweet folds while he bites and sucks and probes and brings you to one orgasm after another.

Instead, he continues licking you, loving how your thrusts meet his licks, and how your quivering thighs limply wrap around his head. He spits, watching his saliva pool around your engorged clit before he gives it another hearty suck. And fuck, he knows your body so well, he knows you’re about to orgasm because of the way you start panting, and how your knees try to lock around his head.

And Steve pulls away, because you’re his and he’ll decide when (or if) you cum tonight. And he loves the little pout your lips form into, and how you frown in your sleep and clutch Steve Junior harder. “Slutty little omega…” Steve murmurs before trailing sloppy kisses down your thigh. Stroking the smooth skin of your calf before he grabs your ankle, and his gaze shifts and eyes grow darker.

He’s still jacking off with one hand, the other holding your leg as he carefully examines the anklet he’d gifted you a few days ago. It’s a dainty gold chain with charms that spell out his name. Steve Rogers. He’d instructed you to put it on and absolutely never take it off unless he told you to. It’s another reminder that you are completely and irrevocably his, an omega who is claimed property, and his first before anything else.

The anklet is amongst the many different ways he plans to own you. First was his mark on your neck, of course. Then this anklet that spells out his name. And then what? Maybe a necklace with his initials? Or a tattoo above your pussy that firmly states: “S.G.R”? God, his dick twitches at the very thought.

But the anklet looks so dainty around your ankle, and he gets the sudden urge to nuzzle your foot up against his face, the feeling going straight to his dick. He can’t help but admire your pretty feet, how he’d paid for you to get a pedicure and they’d painted your toes a pretty white colour. Fuck, so fucking sexy. He presses a kiss on each toe before his lips trail downwards, leaving wet kisses on the pad of your foot before licking a tantalising stripe down the instep of your heel.

Your entire body jolts, and Steve can practically sense your pussy clenching and releasing more of your wetness to drip down on the sheets below. Your sweet fucking cream staining his sheets because your baby pussy is getting turned on by your alpha kissing your feet. Steve can’t help but smirk, and wonders how he’ll tell you this tomorrow.

He takes his phone out and clicks on the camera, recording while grabbing your other foot and repeating the same actions. Pressing little butterfly kisses on each toe while you wiggle and squirm in your sleep. And then he licks up your foot, gently sucking on your toes while he tries not to groan at how sexy this is.

He lets go with a pop, throwing his phone aside while he smirks down at you, “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that, baby. I know you did because I know what a slutty little girl you are.” He strokes your leg, “Don’t worry, daddy filmed it for my private collection. I’m sure you’ll love to see it tomorrow.”

He can just imagine how distraught and shy you’d be when he showed you the video, how you’d beg him to delete it. But he wouldn’t. He has almost hundreds of videos and pictures of you already taking up half the storage on his phone. He’s just so addicted to capturing you on film, addicted to how your naked body moves and responds to him. It’s fascinating, beautiful, so sexy and incredibly hot. And he can’t get enough.

Now, Steve crawls back up your body. And he knows he’s acting like a total creep, and that he could just wake you up and fuck you like how he usually does. But there’s something so vulnerable about you being fast asleep, and he’s nowhere near done playing with you.

You’re on your back, snoring softly into Steve Junior’s fur. But Steve gently manhandles you till you’re facedown, your stomach against the sheets and his favourite part of your body facing him. And he almost salivates at the sight of your bare ass, all cute and round and poking out at him as if you’re teasing him. As if you’re begging to be touched and groped and violated. (Not that it would be a violation, since Steve owns your body and can do with it what he pleases, and when he pleases).

He can’t help but give your ass cheek a firm little slap, watching with baited breath as you mumble something under your breath. Still asleep. He pinches and prods and squeezes to his heart’s desire, like your ass is his own personal toy. Which, in a way, it is. Under the dim moonlight, he can see his teeth-marks on your flesh where he’d bit you the last time he’d spanked you. He just couldn’t help it then, and his chest fills with pride now, hoping the mark will permanently mar your ass and remind you of who you belong to.

“Your sexy little ass is just begging to be fucked, omega.” Steve breathes, imagining how tight and sexy it would feel if he just shoved his dick up your ass. But instead, he leans down to give your smooth skin a light kiss, before turning you onto your back once more. And it’s crazy how deep of a sleeper you are, unperturbed by how he’s playing with your unconscious body which he jacks off.

“Steve…mhm…please…” You breathe softly, and the delicate sound goes straight to his dick. You were begging for his dick, even in your sleep. If that wasn’t the sexiest thing Steve had ever witnessed, he didn’t know what was.

“Oh. So you want me to take advantage of you while you sleep?” He tsks, giving your cheek another condescending pat. “What a naughty little girl you are, but I already knew that. You may be all innocent but that doesn’t mean you’re not a cock-hungry little slut when you’re under me.” He pinches your cheek and chuckles under his breath when you pout.

He carefully straddles your chest, making sure not to crush you with his weight. But now, he’s got his dick right above your sweet, sleeping face. He cant help but rub it against your cheeks and nose and forehead, making sure his scent and his precum is smeared all over your face. And fuck, he’s so ready to just blow his load.

“Slutty little omega…” Steve breathes, tracing the tip of his dick against your soft lips. And, as if on cue and by some fucking miracle, your lips part. Steve can’t believe it, “Good girl. That’s such a good little girl…” He praises you, inserting his tip into your mouth and watching in awe as you suckle it in your sleep.

“Mhm, daddy…” You moan sleepily, like a fucking porn-star or an actress at least. Steve is in complete awe at how whiny and needy you sound and it goes straight to his dick.

“That’s right, baby. Suck daddy’s dick like the obedient little slut you are.” He commands you, wanting to shove his whole length into your mouth but knowing he’d choke you if he did that. Instead, he lets you suck on his tip while he continues to jack off at the sight. With his other hand, he grabs yours and squeezes it, not really knowing why apart from the fact that he felt the need to do it.

He cums fast, and it’s no surprise since he’s been edging himself all this time whilst fondling your body. And he’s so used to cumming down your throat, that it takes all his willpower to pull out before he blows his load all over your face. And fuck, if it isn’t the sexiest thing in the world, your face coated in his cum, and you still don’t wake up.

“Fuckin’ cockslut.” Steve mutters under his breath, stopping to marvel at how beautiful you look before he gathers the cum on your cheek with his finger and slips it into your mouth, smirking when you suck it off obediently. Fuck, even in your sleep you’re obedient. He continues to feed you his cum until your face is somewhat clean (he leaves a bit of residue, something for you to wonder about in the morning). And then he climbs off you, something inside him compelling him to give you a soft kiss on the cheek for being such a good girl for him.

He takes a quick trip to the bathroom to piss and wash off before changing into a pair of sweats and returning. You’re still asleep, of course. It’s slightly alarming, what a deep sleeper you are, but you still look cute as fuck. You’re on his side of the bed, head resting on his pillow, and so he has to gently scoop you up and slip in underneath you before placing you down on his chest and covering the two of you with the heavy comforter.

“Steve? You’re home?” You say sleepily, cuddling up into his chest as his arms wrap around you. Your eyes are still shut and you seem to be half asleep still, and unaware of everything that’s just taken place in the past few minutes, but he can’t help but respond.

“Yeah. The party was boring.”

“Missed you.” You mumble softly into the hardness of his chest, and Steve feels a certain stirring deep down.

He yawns, “Oh yeah? I was only gone for a few hours.”

“Always miss you.”

And then you’re snoring softly once more, and Steve’s left to stare at the ceiling in pitch darkness. You’re still and content, cuddled up on his side and practically on top of him, with Steve Junior in your arms. Sound asleep. And Steve can’t help but hold you just a little bit tighter, and give you a soft kiss on your forehead, before he follows suit.

THE END! 

Please do let me know what you think! I know this is a drabble but technically it isn’t bc it’s like 3.9k words!! So please do give feedback and tell me what you think and reblog and all that good stuff! Love you guys and I love writing for this pairing!!! I was hesitant to write more in Steve’s POV but I just focused on his horniness and not on any emotional stuff!!! THANK YOU FOR READING BYE

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

Part 23

part 22

part 24

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warning: mentions of vomiting, characters sick, Kurapika keeps trying to cop a feel while he’s sick and feverish, mentions of child abuse/neglect, Killua has abandonment issues

A/N: shout-out to @bugmomwrites for helping me with this chapter!!

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah

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(Name) was woken up at 3 am the next night by a knock on her door. She blinked awake slowly, wobbling over to the door before opening it.

Gon stood behind it, looking a little pale, with flushed cheeks. “(Name)… I threw up…”

(Name) took a moment to stare at him, taking a deep breath before sighing. “Come here baby, I’ll get you some medicine.”

Gon sat on her bed as she fished through her cabinet for some medicine, but he came rushing into her bathroom to throw up into the toilet again before she could find it.

“Oh, Gon…”

She patted his back as he hurled, cooing softly. “That’s it sweetheart, get it all up. I’m here.”

When he was done, she gently wiped his face before guiding him back to her bed. “Lay down… shit, you’re burning up!”

(Name) rubbed his back before standing back up. ‘Shit… I hope this is just some food poisoning and not anything contagious.’

It didn’t take long for Killua and Kurapika to arrive as well, both looking tired and confused.

“What’s wrong with Gon? He ran out of our room a minute ago…” Killua asked, concern evident in his tired eyes.

“Yeah, I heard him throwing up in the downstairs bathroom.” Kurapika said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

(Name) sighed softly, comforting Gon as he held his stomach. “I’m not sure, I would call Leorio to come check on him, but after he helped me drop off my van yesterday, he had to leave for a medical conference hosted by his college. He’ll be busy for the next few days.”

Killua sat down next to (Name) patting Gon’s back tenderly. “You’re gonna be okay, I’m here.”

Kurapika yawned. “I’m going back to bed, come get me if something else happens.”

The blonde left, walking downstairs. “Killua, you should get to bed too. I’ll take care of Gon, you get some rest.”

Killua looked like he didn’t want to leave, gently brushing some of Gon’s hair back. “I’ll be okay, Killua. (Name) will take care of me…”

Killua swallowed, glancing at (Name) before getting up and leaving. “Goodnight…”

(Name) took care of Gon through the night, barely getting any sleep. Near dawn, Gon settled down enough for her to pass out next to him, only to be awakened two hours later by the sound of someone throwing up.

“Gon, baby, do you need me to come hold your hair-“

But Gon was still lying next to her in bed, face flushed with fever.

“No…”

She jumped up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she sprinted down the stairs. In the hallway, Killua said in a crumpled heap, vomit covering the floor. “Oh, Killua…”

He looked up weakly, looking absolutely miserable. “I tried to get to the bathroom…”

Her heart broke, he looked embarrassed and was attempting to stand and clean up his mess. “No, no sweetheart it’s okay. Shh…”

She gently picked him up, carrying the teen to the living room and laying him down on the couch. She grabbed a bucket and put a trash bag in it, setting it beside him before covering him in a blanket. “Rest sweetheart, if you can’t make it to the bathroom, there’s a bucket right there okay?”

He nodded, eyes fluttering closed as he panted softly. (Name) placed her hand on his forehead, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. ‘He has a fever too. Well, this confirms it, whatever Gon has is contagious.’

(Name) made quick work of cleaning up the throw up in the hallway, hearing a door open near her and someone yawn. “(Name)? What are y-“

He spotted what she was cleaning up and made a face. “Did Gon walk downstairs just to throw up on the floor?”

(Name) held back a snicker, giving him a look. “No, Killua is sick too. Speaking of Gon, do you think you can carry him downstairs? It’ll be easier to take care of them both if they’re in the same spot.”

Kurapika nodded. “I’ll put some coffee on too.”

(Name) sighed in relief, giving him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

(Name) placed an air mattress on the floor, finishing blowing it up just in time for Kurapika to come in carrying Gon. “He’s burning up.”

(Name) nodded. “Yeah, it’s about time for his next round of medicine.”

Kurapika watched as she quickly gave the both of them medication, before sitting down at the kitchen table to sip her coffee. From the bags under her eyes and her messy hair he could tell she barely slept.

“(Name)… do you need some help? Taking care of two kids won’t be easy.”

She nodded, rubbing her temple. “Yes, that would make things a hell of a lot easier on me.”

The blonde followed her to the kitchen, watching as she began taking out vegetables. “You can cut these up while I put some chicken on to boil. After that I’ll need to check their temperature again.”

The sound of one of them throwing up again had her rushing out of the kitchen. Kurapika winced. ‘How is she able to deal with that? I can’t even look at vomit without getting sick.’

He sat at the kitchen table cutting up vegetables, glancing up when she walked back in. “Killua is still throwing up, and can’t keep his medicine down. I’m hoping if I get his fever to go down he’ll be able to take some medicine, so I’ll need to cool him off…”

She got a rag wet, squeezing out the excess water before returning to place it on his forehead. “Mom… mom please don’t go…”

Killua grabbed her arm, his face flushed with fever. She sighed, gently pushing back his hair. “I’m so sorry, Killua, but I have to cook and take care of Gon too. I promise when I’m done I’ll come and sit with you, okay?”

He nodded slowly, letting her sleeve go. (Name) gave him a soft smile before she returned to the kitchen to wash her hands. “Kurapika, could you go watch over them while I cook? Just come get me if they start throwing up or if they need me.”

(Name) continued cooking, pulling on her frilly pink apron. It only took five minutes for Kurapika to walk back in, looking defeated.

“Kurapika? Do they need something?”

He shook his head, collapsing into a chair. “Killua started crying as soon as I showed my face. He said he already felt sick enough without having me ‘stinking up the place’.”

He used air quotes on the last part, giving (Name) an annoyed look. “Even when he’s sick he’s such a-“

“Kurapika.”

She wielded a wooden spoon, shaking it at him. “He’s sick, I promise he doesn’t actually hate you.”

She turned back to the stove, frowning. “Probably.”

Kurapika scoffed, crossing one leg over the other. “Even you can’t say for sure if he hates me. What have I don’t that’s so bad he can’t even let me take care of him?”

The silence that filled the kitchen was deafening.

‘Oh. That, I did that.’

Kurapika rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, remembering all the things he’s said and done. “(Name), I…”

She held up her hand, glancing back at him with a soft smile. “Please, I don’t want to think about that right now. I have enough on my mind.”

He looked at his lap, clutching the fabric of his sweatpants. Kurapika hated that he couldn’t just apologize and move on.

He held onto his anger, it was the only thing that kept him warm at night during those two years he spent apart from her. If it faded away and she didn’t want him, what would he have left? He’d spent half his life in a blinding rage, stuck in the past. Kurapika didn’t know anything else.

So he stayed quiet, helping her prepare the chicken noodle soup and hand out medicine. Kurapika at least wanted to be somewhat useful to her, after taking advantage of her love and kindness over and over again.

Kurapika spent the next few hours hovering around her, jumping up to do whatever she asked of him. Unfortunately, Kurapika hadn’t taken care of someone sick since he was young. Pairo was the last person he’d tended to in such a way, and that had been nearly a decade ago.

He attempted to carry their soup to them, only to spill it. “It’s okay, Kurapika, I can just make them some more. Just clean it up for me!”

She came back after feeding them to see him sulking in his seat, his shirt covered in soup. “… Kurapika? What happened?”

“… I fell in the soup.”

“What?”

She tried not to laugh, but he was looking up at her, his shirt covered in soup, looking distraught.

“Haha, go change, silly.”

She pulled him up, patting his back reassuringly. “Okay… I’ll be right back.”

——————

(Name) collapsed onto the air mattress her and Kurapika would be sharing, the blonde rubbing soothing circles into her back. “You should rest, (Name). If they make some sound, you’ll hear them.”

She whines a little, groaning into her pillow. “Ugh… you’re right but just thinking of them getting sick and not having me with them makes me anxious. Killua gets… he gets scared when I’m gone for too long.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow. “Scared? Why would Killua be scared if you’re gone for too long?”

She was hiding something from him, and it was beginning to frustrate him. “What are you hiding from me, (Name)? Something happened to have Killua act like this. He has nightmares, he can’t be away from you too long… what happened?”

She couldn’t look at him, pulling the blanket they shared up to her chin. “… it’s too much for you. You don’t want to know.”

Kurapika scoffed, causing her to blink and look at him. “Oh please, you think anything you been through is worse than what I’ve dealt with?”

When she didn’t answer and instead scooted away from him, he stopped, attempting to place a hand on his shoulder. “Wait, (Name), I didn’t mean it like th-“

She pushed his hand off of his shoulder, facing away from him. “… just go to sleep, Kurapika.”

Kurapika didn’t push any further, cursing himself for being stupid. But a part of him really believed what he said. What could she have gone through that he wouldn’t be able to handle hearing?

If only he knew.

——————

(Name) fell asleep angry, and hurt. ‘How could he say that? He doesn’t even know what happened, the pain we went through…’

But when she woke up a few hours later, hearing the man behind her groaning in pain, her anger faded away into worry. “Kurapika?”

She attempted to turn around to look at him, but was kept still by his arms wrapping around her waist. She kept still, gently grasping his hand. “Are you okay?”

His hand was hot and clammy, his breath warm against her neck. He was panting, and just from the sound of his breathing alone he could hear he was congested.

(Name) attempted to get up, but the blonde whined, pulling her closer. “No… don’t leave… I’m sorry for… for earlier…”

She was trying to get up to get him some medicine before he got any worse, having forgotten his harsh words from before. “Kurapika…”

He nuzzled his head into her shoulder, panting softly. “Please… just… just want you to stay with me…”

She wanted to wiggle away, to scold him, but couldn’t. His hands were trembling, his tone desperate and needy. Kurapika needed her in this moment, and she wouldn’t deny him human kindness and comfort.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

This caused the blonde to relax, his grip loosening slightly. She reached her hand back to caress his cheek. “Go back to sleep, Kurapika. You’re going ti need it.”

As if he was a child being commanded to sleepy by his mother, the usually defiant Kurapika settled back down, falling asleep against her.

(Name) waited for him to fall into a deep sleep before she wiggled out of his grasp and stood up to check on the others. Both of them were still sound asleep, so she simply replaced the rags on their foreheads with fresh, cool ones to keep their fevers down before grabbing some medicine for Kurapika.

His face was flushed, his eyebrows furrowed as he searched for (Name) in his sleep. She held onto his hand, the blonde relaxing once she did. “Kurapika, sweetheart, wake up.”

He did, looking absolutely miserable. She helped him sit up, letting the blonde lean against her shoulder as she gave him his medicine.

She turned, about to leave to put the medicine up. “You’re doing good, Pika. Now just lay back d-“

Before she could finish, the blonde pulled her into his arms by her hips. She squeaked, feeling him nuzzle into her neck, leaving little kisses on her sensitive skin.

“H-hey, stop th-“

She gasped when his hand travelled down, playing with waistband of her panties. His breath was hot against her neck, and she could feel his hard on pressing against her ass.

“Made me… made me feel good in the van. Wanna… return the favor…”

She wiggled in his grasp, face burning hot. “K-Kurapika, you don’t have to do that, you’re sick, you’re not thinking str-“

The feeling of his warm fingers sliding into her panties made her whine, and she knew if she couldn’t reason with him, she’d have to take drastic measures.

“Sorry, Pika!”

She grabbed his arm and used her nen to speed up his cells, making his grip loosen as he lost consciousness due to the stamina his body would need to catch up.

(Name) sighed in relief, wiggling out of his arms and deciding to sleep on the floor instead.

But she couldn’t help the warmth pooling between her legs, the woman biting her lip as she slipped her hand downwards. ‘He… he was so close to touching me…’

——————

(Name) woke up to the sound of someone shuffling past her to the bathroom. She looked up to see Gon, his face pale and eyes sleepy.

‘At least he’s able to walk.’ she thought, sitting up and stretching. (Name) glanced down at Kurapika, who was panting and sweating in his sleep.

“Shit, Kurapika? Are you okay?”

When he didn’t answer, she sprinted to the kitchen to get a cool, wet rag. She placed it on his forward, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

It took a few minutes, but when he cooled down enough, he looked up at her with blurry eyes.

“Hahh… you’re like… an angel…”

She blinked, her own cheeks beginning to heat up. “H-huh? Angel?”

He reached his hand up to cup her cheek, smiling fondly. “So pretty… my angel, my own angel…”

His words were making her head feel fuzzy, and she couldn’t help but look down at him, here eyes soft. “Mhm, I’m your angel, Kurapika. I’m here to take care of you.”

She caressed his cheek, helping to soothe him back to sleep. After that, she glanced over to see Killua watching her with a pout.

“You said you’d come sit with me…”

She tried not to laugh at his grumpy expression, standing up. “You’re right, I did. Make some room.”

(Name) sat down on the couch, turning the TV back on and letting killua lay his head in her lap. She played with his hair, watching as Gon walked back in. He took one look at the two before climbing onto the couch and laying next to Killua.

She wanted to squeal, the looked so cute cuddling together, their heads resting on her lap. After making sure they were sound asleep, (Name) took a quick picture of the two. ‘This is going on our Christmas card..’

(Name) only got up when their heads got too heavy, gently pushing them off before getting up to get their next round of medicine and food.

Killua and Gon munched on a banana each as (Name) spoon fed Kurapika some chicken noodle soup. Thankfully Kurapika hadn’t been throwing up, she had caught his sickness just in time to prevent him from getting to Gon and Killua’s stage.

“This is good… you made it?” Kurapika asked, still clinging to her.

“I did, and you helped me, remember?” she asked, gently wiping soup soup from his chin with a napkin. He looked at her with those hazy, half lidded eyes.

“Mmm… don’t think I did…”

He munched on some bread she served with the soup, leaning on her shoulder. Kurapika had been extremely clingy the past day, finding any opportunity to muzzle into her, his hands roaming downwards until they reached the waistband of her pants.

(Name) had to smack his hand, giving him a stern look. “No, Kurapika. No touching, now lay back down.”

He whined a little, pouting at her before turning around with a huff and covering his head with his blanket. Kurapika’s sock covered feet poked out, and (Name) could only snicker. ‘What a brat.’

As she got everyone ready for bed, (Name) realized she was starting to feel… tired. She looked over to the others, Gon and Killua shivering from fevers and Kurapika mumbling in his sleep about angels.

‘I hope I’m not sick too, who will take care of them?’

(Name) sighed, lying own on her makeshift pallet. “Goodnight, boys…”

In the middle of the night, (Name) woke with a start, jumping up and running to the bathroom. She barely had time to fall in front of the toilet before she was throwing up, moaning miserably.

“(Name)..?”

Kurapika stumbled to the bathroom, looking concerned. His face was still flushed with fever, but he sat behind her and pulled her hair back as she continued. “It’s okay…”

He patted her back, trying to be as soothing as his fever riddled brain could let him.

When she was done, she stood up and walked with shaky legs to the sink, rinsing out her mouth and washing off her face. “Shit…”

Kurapika say ok the floor, watching her as she pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts, holding her stomach.

“(Name)? Sunshine, is something wrong?”

(Name) sighed, pushing back her hair from her sweaty forehead. “Leorio, when will you be back? The other three were sick and I was taking care of them, but now I’m sick too.”

“You’re sick? What are your symptoms?”

As (Name) listed out her symptoms, Kurapika couldn’t help but feel like it was her fault he was sick. He’d been clinging to her like a child, insisting she hold him.

But Kurapika hadn’t had someone to take care of him when he was sick for a while. After losing his clan at the age of twelve, he’d been taking care of himself since. There were days he’d sit in a tent, shivering from his fever and the cold as a thunderstorm raged outside, having no one but himself.

So when (Name) began taking care of him so tenderly, he leaned into it. His tired, feverish mind couldn’t help but want her comfort, it was as if the child inside him needed to be taken care of even more than his sickness.

“I can be home by tomorrow. Can you handle it until then?”

(Name) sighed into the phone, rubbing her forehead. “Yeah, yeah I can do it. Good thing I prepared s-“

She groaned, handing her phone to Kurapika as she began to vomit into the toilet again.

“(Name)? (Name) what’s going on?! Are you okay?”

Kurapika held the phone up to his ear, his words slightly slurred from the fever. “She’s throwing up, Leorio. What… what can I do to help her?”

Leorio sighed. “Just be there for her. Hold back her hair and help her lay back down. I’ve got to go, please… make sure she doesn’t overwork herself.”

The phone call ended, Kurapika moving to hold back her hair.

——————

“(Name)…”

Killua looked to the person he considered his mom, watching as she stumbled out of the kitchen, carrying medicine and food. “Mom, you shouldn’t be walking right now. You’re sick too.”

She sat down next to him and Gon, offering them some medicine. They took it, only because they didn’t want her stressing over it.

“I’m fine, Killua. If I don’t take care of us, then no one will. Leorio will be here by tomorrow, I can tough it out until then.”

She tried to smile to relieve his worries, but it didn’t seem to be working. Killua held onto her arm, his lip quivering. “Mom… please. I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

Her eyes widened when tears started to fall down his cheeks. Gon, who had been silently watching moved closer to hug him, (Name) pulling them both into her arms. “Oh, killua baby, what’s gotten into you? You’ve never been a…”

He’d fallen asleep before she could say anything else, sniffling in his sleep. Gon gave her a look of concern, frowning. “He… he’s right, you should also rest. I… I…”

Gon started to cry too, and now she was having to tuck Killua in while Gon cried into her shoulder. ‘My poor babies…’

Kurapika watched this from his air mattress, clutching his pillow tight. ‘She’s trying so hard… I… I don’t want her to get any worse…’

And now he was crying too, (Name) spotting him. “K-Kurapika, you too? Why is everyone so sad?”

She sat on the floor so she could pat both of their heads, stretching her arms to reach them.

After they also fell asleep, she took some medicine for herself, eating a bit of a banana to put something on her stomach.

Memories of being a child flashed in her mind, specifically ones involving her and and brothers.

“Pepper, Mint, are you okay?”

(Name), then only 8 years old, stared down at her 4 year old twin brothers, who were crying with flushed cheeks. “Mama… mama…”

She sighed, pulling them close to her, kissing both of their heads. Her little brothers had called her mama ever since they learned how to speak.

(Name)’s mother wanted nothing to do with raising them after all, only providing the absolute bare needs. She did everything else. Dressing them, feeding them, taking care of them when they were sick, these were all things she had to do from a young age.

“What’s wrong? Are you tired?”

Mint shook his head, pointing to the bathroom. When she investigated, (Name) realized he had gotten sick and threw up. And she knew that if one of them were sick, the other was too, or would be soon enough.

She sighed, flushing the toilet and getting them to bed. “I’ll get you some medicine from Mom’s room. Just be good, okay? No crying and being loud, or Daddy will be mad.”

The twins nodded, curling up under (Name)’s comforter.

Going to their mothers room was never easy. The smell of cigarettes smoke and the lingering odor it left behind was enough to make anyone gag, especially a young child with asthma like (Name).

She held her shirt over her nose, tiptoeing to the bathroom, trying to be quiet.

“The hell are you sneaking around for?”

(Name) froze, a shiver running up her spine as she heard her mother sit up in bed. It was the middle of the night, and she was hoping she’d be knocked out well enough that (Name) wouldn’t have to worry.

“S-sorry mom, the twins are sick and I was getting them some medicine so I wouldn’t have to bother you.”

The woman scoffed, lighting up a a cigarette and taking a drag. “You’ve already bothered me plenty, you little pest. Get the medicine and get out of here, before your father wakes up and makes all of us deal with his bullshit.”

She nodded and quickly walked into the bathroom, grabbing the proper medicine then tiptoeing away. Her mother didn’t spare her a second glance, no thank you either. It’s not like (Name) was expecting it, her mother never thanked her for anything, but it would have been nice.

“Hey, wait a second (Name).”

The girl stopped, feeling a small stirring of hope in her chest as she turned to face her mother. “Yes, mom?”

The woman coughed into her fist, spitting into the trash next to her. “If you use up all that medicine, I’m taking it out of your lunch money for school. Not like you need the lunch anyways, god damn pig.”

(Name) quickly turned away before her mother could see the tears prickling in the corners of her eyes, nodding. “Yes ma’am. Goodnight.”

She closed the door behind her, moving as fast and as quietly as she could back to her room. The night would be spent staying awake and taking care of her sick brothers, with no help from her parents. She would still be forced to go to school the next day, being separated from them.

(Name) shuddered at the memory, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘I miss them… I miss them so much…’

She hadn’t seen her brothers in nearly four years now, and from the one letter she got from them, it seemed they didn’t want to see her. They claimed she abandoned them, and she was sure her parents had something to do with it.

After all, (Name)’s only use to them had been as a future trophy wife to a rich man. When she didn’t fulfill that goal, they sent her to college so she would at least get a medical license to “take care of her parents” in the future. They claimed she owed them, that they clothed and fed her.

But they never loved (Name). The only reason they began treating her brothers better by their tenth birthday was because they would be carrying on the family legacy, going out and making money. (Name) wasn’t allowed to have the same dreams her brothers got to, but she was happy for them nonetheless. She loved them with all her heart, more like a mother than a sister.

When she dropped out of school because she couldn’t afford to take care of herself, her parents had cut her off, and because her little brothers were minors, that meant she couldn’t see them anymore either. It broke her heart, and her mother knew it did. She was a vengeful, evil woman that likes to make (Name) suffer. It made her feel better about herself to put (Name) down.

She sighed softly, sniffling as she brought her knees to her chest. In this moment (Name) felt so alone, everyone else asleep as she sat, plagued by her past.

Before she could stop, she began to cry. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, falling into her laps as her soft cries turned into a violent, loud sob.

(Name) wanted to be taken care of too! She wanted someone to kiss her forehead, to tuck her in and tell her everything would be okay. Was it too much to ask for, to be loved and cared for as thoroughly as she did for others? (Name) never asked for much, but her sickness was making her want to scream and throw a tantrum. She wanted to comforted!

A hand on her shoulder made her stop, her sobs dying down into sniffles. She looked over her shoulder to see Kurapika sitting behind her. “(Name)? Why are you crying?”

She couldn’t help it. Her lip quivered, and she quickly turned around to bury her face in his chest. “My tummy hurts, I don’t feel g-good!”

Kurapika, who was also still sick, nodded, using his clammy palm to smooth out her hair. “I know… I know, (Name)…”

She cried and cried, covering his shirt and snot and tears before she began to tire herself out. (Name) sniffled one last time before she pulled away to wipe away her tears.

If she was being honest with herself, she was expecting to look up and see Kurapika glaring down at her with a disgusted or annoyed look.

But he wasn’t. Kurapika looked worried, his face still flushed with fever, scrunched up in concern as he gently cupped her cheek. “You tired?”

She nodded, and he patted the air mattress next to them. “Come on, let’s take a nap.”

The two climbed in, and Kurapika held her as she slept, giving her the comfort she had been so desperately craving.

When she woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of her front door opening. “Oh, sunshine…”

(Name) felt someone’s hand touch her sweaty forehand. “You’re burning up…”

She looked up weakly to see Leorio wearing gloves and a face mask, his brows knit together in concern as he crouched down next to her.

“Leorio…”

She began to cry again, the man’s eyes widening when he spotted the tears falling down her cheeks. “I tried so hard… I…”

He patted her head, sighing softly. “You did, (Name). You took care of them to your best ability, and now it’s my turn. You just go back to sleep, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

She nodded, turning back to face Kurapika, who was holding onto her hand in his sleep, their fingers interlocked. (Name) snuggled into his chest, hearing him make some quiet noises of contentment before he wrapped his arms around her.

———————

The day was spent with the sick members of the group being taken care of by Leorio, and by the next day they were all better. (Name) was the only one with a fever, sleeping it off in her room as the others chatted downstairs.

Killua kept glancing at the stairs as Leorio cleaned up the living room. “Is she going to be okay?”

Leorio nodded, packing up the air mattress. “Yeah, she should be better by tonight. Kurapika, you’re leaving the day after tomorrow, yeah?”

“… yes.”

Kurapika was folding up the blankets they had used after washing them to get rid of any lingering germs. Killua didn’t seem to happy about this, leaning back on the couch as Gon napped next to him.

“You’re leaving? And do you actually plan on coming back?”

Kurapika was quiet for a moment. This is something he’d been thinking about for the past few days. Did he really have it in him to come back, knowing there was always the possibility he’d eventually have to leave for good?

“… I’m not sure yet.”

Killua rolled his eyes, crossing on leg over the other. “Yeah, well if you’re not coming back, don’t be a coward and tell her this time. I don’t want her wasting her energy on someone who’s so quick to abandon her.”

Kurapika’s frown deepened. He quickly walked away to put up the extra blankets in the spare closet.

Leorio didn’t move to stop either of them from arguing, simply sighing before standing up. Kurapika walked back in a few minutes later, the blankets gone from his arms. He looked calmer, giving Leorio a shy smile.

“So, you said you wanted to talk to us about something?”

Leorio stretched, giving the blonde a smile back. “Yeah. Killua, wake up Gon. We have some planning to do.”

(Name) woke up at around dinner time, feeling a lot better. She walked down the stairs, rubbing at her sleepy eyes.

“Guys? What are w-“

Killua and Gon hugged her, Killua giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Mom, are you feeling better?”

She laughed, pulling them both into arms. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better.”

They grinned, pulling back as she rubbed her eyes again. “Where are the other two?”

“They went to go get some dinner.” Gon answered, walking over to the table and picking up two pills. “Leorio told us to give you these if you woke up while he was gone. It’s your last dose!”

She nodded, taking the pills with a glass of juice. “Ahh, thank you Gon, Killua.”

She placed her empty glass in the sink, about to start doing the dishes but was stopped by Killua. “Wait, no mom. Leorio said you can’t do any cleaning. The most you should be doing tonight is walking around to stretch your legs.”

She huffed, put relented, dropping her rag in the sink and shuffling towards the couch in her bunny slippers. “Alright, alright. I hope there’s something good on Netflix to watch…”

Right before she was about to sit down, the front door opened, revealing Leorio and Kurapika, who had takeout bags in their hands. “(Name), you’re awake!”

Kurapika placed his bags on the table before jogging towards her, taking her hands and smiling. She immediately remembered the way he’d tried to slip his hand into her panties multiple times, her face heating up.

“U-Um, Kurapika… do you remember anything from when you were sick?”

He tilted his head, recognizing the flustered look on her face. “Not much, just that… you were my guardian angel the whole time.”

He blushed, squeezing her hand with a sweet smile on his face. ‘He doesn’t remember…’

“Why do you ask, (Name)? Did something happen?”

She looked away, her face growing hotter by the second. “… nope, nothing at all.”

Kurapika didn’t believe this for a second, his heart beginning to thump against his chest. “Did I do something? Did… did I say something stupid?”

“Um, anyways!”

(Name) moved past him, going to get her takeout food. Leorio, who she had told what happened whne they were alone a few hours ago, have Kurapika a look.

“I’ll tell you later.” Leorio whispered into Kurapika’s ear.

After dinner, Leorio met the blonde in his room, leaning against the wall as Kurapika fidgeted with his comforter. “So? What… what happened?”

Leorio made a face. “Are you sure you want to know, Kurapika?”

Kurapika turned pale, a nervous sweat beginning to bead at his forehead. “… is it that bad?”

“It’s pretty bad.”

Kurapika hissed through his teeth, rubbing his temple. “Okay, just rip the bandaid off. Tell me.”

Leorio moved to sit on the bed, giving him a reassuring pat to his shoulder. “Well, first of all you kept whining and making her cuddle you.”

Kurapika groaned, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “You say that as if it’s not the only embarrassing thing I did.”

“… well…”

The blonde looked at him in astonishment.

“You kind of… slipped your hand into her panties.”

“…”

“More than once.”

“Oh my god.”

Now, not only was he embarrassed, but he was rock hard. (Name) must hate him now!

“Did… did I-“

“Don’t worry, she pushed you away before you uh… touched her.”

Kurapika sighed, leaning against his bed. Leorio glanced down at him, raising an eyebrow. “She said you were really intent on making up for… her helping you in the van. Which by the way, she wouldn’t give me any details on. Did she give you a blowjob or something?”

Kurapika hit Leorio with his pillow. “Hey, that’s not any of your business. And… no. We uh… kept all of our clothes on.”

“No… don’t tell me… dry humping? You came in your pants?”

Kurapika’s face burned bright red. “Shut up!”

Leorio sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “God that’s hot. Wish it were me.”

Kurapika stared at him for a minute, before smacking him with his pillow over and over. “Fucking pervert!”

“Ouch! Ouch, hey you have no room to talk! I’m not the one that stole her-“

Kurapika held the pillow over his head, suffocating him. “Perish.”

Leorio wiggles around, smacking Kurapika’s arm. Before anything else could happen, there was a knock on the door. “Kurapika? Leorio?”

It was (Name)’s voice!

Kurapika pulled the pillow off of Leorio’s face, walking towards the door and smiling as if nothing happened. “(Name), are you feeling better?”

She groaned, waving her hand. “Yess, I’m feeling fine. I just wanted to gone and say goodnight.”

(Name) was wearing a fresh pair of pajamas, her hair still wet from her shower. Honestly she smelled amazing, and Kurapika was having trouble concentrating.

“Well… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She turned to leave, but Kurapika grabbed her wrist. “W-wait!”

He pulled her closer, looking down her with his soft, scarlet eyes. “I… wanted to thank you for taking care of me. I don’t… remember much, but I do know you made me feel…”

‘Loved, safe, taken care of-‘

“Better. You made me feel better.”

There were so many other ways she made him feel, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the more tender, intimate ways. “Pika, I promise it was no trouble, you don’t have to thank me.”

He shook his head, squeezing her hand. “No, I appreciate it. Really.”

He took a deep breath, hyping himself up before he said the next thing.

“When I was sick… when you were there for me when I hurt my head during the hunter exam… you were like my guardian angel.”

She felt her cheeks heat up when he brought her hand up to his lips, giving her knuckles a kiss. “Thank you, angel.”

“A-angel?”

He gave her a smile, one that (Name) couldn’t decide being shy or sly. “Yes, angel. Goodnight.”

Kurapika watched her walk away before closing his bedroom door and sliding against it to the floor, his heart thundering in his chest. He knew his face had to be bright red, and he could hear Leorio laughing at him faintly as the blood rushed to his ears.

“Holy shit, that was smooth. Angel, huh?”

Kurapika glared at the man, but was too flustered, trying to recover from his flirting attempt to do anything other than that.

“Why are you still in here? Go away.”

Leorio rolled his eyes, sitting up and walking towards the door. Before he left, his shoulders became tense, and he looked back at Kurapika with a neutral expression.

“Killua was right about what he said earlier, Kurapika. If you’re going to leave for good, tell (Name). Don’t lead her on then abandon her once she’s finally gotten comfortable with the thought of you sticking around.”

Leorio opened the door, looking forward again. “I don’t think she could take that.”

Kurapika felt his heart slow down, the weight of Leorio’s words sinking in. “… I understand.”

“Good. See you in the morning, Kurapika.”

Kurapika nodded, watching Leorio leave before climbing into bed.

———————

(Name) was feeling completely better by the next morning, waking up and cooking breakfast. Leorio was the first to join her in the kitchen, a soft smile on his face.

“Hey sunshine, you feelin’ better?”

She giggled, looking back at him. “God, how many times do I have to say I’m okay? You all worry too much.”

He huffed, coming up behind her to each around and place a hand on her forehead. “Hmm… no fever. Any symptoms? Vomiting, diarrhea, nausea, chest aches-“

“Leorio, don’t talk about that stuff while I’m cooking, you’ll actually make me sick.”

He chuckled, pulling his hand away and leaning against the counter near her. “Sorry, sorry. We were all pretty worried about you, ya know? Especially Killua and Kurapika. They were both crying when I carried you upstairs for your own private rest time.”

She glanced at him, trying not to laugh. “They cried, really?”

“Well, Killua was also saying things like ‘no mom don’t leave me with Kurapika, I’m sick enough already!’ while Kurapika attempted to cling to your leg.”

She let out a giggle, holding a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, what brats.”

“You’re telling me!”

They both laughed, Leorio feeling his heart race at her smiling face. He gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, his eyes soft.

“You know, since you’re feeling better, I wanted to see if you were up for something fun tonight. Kurapika’s leaving for his mission tomorrow morning, and Gon is going back home to whale island that night.”

(Name) hummed, placing another pancake on the platter next to her before pouring more batter into her skillet. “What did you have planned, Leorio?”

The man scratched the back of his neck. “Haha, how did you know I have something planned?”

“I didn’t, you just told me you did now.”

Leorio blinked, his lips pursing. “Oh, you tricky woman.”

She turned off the stove, turning back to him. “So? What’s your big plans, sweetheart?”

The faintest blush appeared on his cheeks. (Name) didn’t use pet names with him often, but every time she did it made his heart race. “Well… I heard the local corn maze just opened up last weekend.”

She gasped, nearly dropping her spatula, Leorio catching it for her. “Really? Oh, I wanted to go last year but-“

“The crocodile incident, yeah I remember. I heard you can buy tickets online to cut the line, so I bought us some!”

Leorio held up his phone, showing her the digital tickets. She grinned up at him, pulling him into a hug. “Leorio, have I ever told you what a sweetheart you are?”

He laughed, patting her back and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “A few times, yes.”

She looked up at him, smiling brightly. “Oh, I’m so excited now. I’ll have to wear something cute!”

Leorio cupped her cheek, squishing it playfully. “Everything you wear is cute, but you should wear something warm. It’s going to be in the 60s tonight.”

She nodded, pulling away from him. “I should go wake up everyone before breakfast gets cold.”

He felt his smile fade when she glanced to Kurapika’s face, that same shy, flustered look in her eye should would get when around the blonde during the Hunter exam.

“Yeah, you should. I’ll make my plate.”

He watched her go, his gaze turning towards the pancakes.

‘… if he doesn’t treat her right…’

His eyes glanced up, following her figure as she walked towards Kurapika’s room.

‘I’ll be taking her for myself.’

——————

(Name) looked over herself later that night, turning a few times as she tried to decide if the outfit she had on would be what she was wearing that night.

It was a long , wine red, velvet dress, with a black lace trim and a sweetheart neckline. The sleeves were short, so she paired it with a black cardigan that had a white ghost pattern. “Hehe, I look like a modern vampire.”

She spinned, giggling. “It’s perfect!”

‘And it’s Kurapika’s favorite color…’

Her face became hot when she thought this, quickly shaking her head and moving on. ‘N-not like that matters, he’s my friend. I don’t have to impress him.

But the thought of him finding her dress pretty did make a certain spot between her legs wet. Ever since the car incident, she’d been having frequent naughty thoughts about him, and was having trouble thinking of anything else when he was around.

And with him trying to slip his hand into her panties recently, these naughty thoughts were driving her crazy!

‘Ahh, I can’t think of this now, I have to get ready!’

She paired her outfit with a pair of frilly ankle socks and black Mary Janes. With one last look, she began her walk downstairs to join her friends.

Everyone was already ready, waiting for her in the living room. When Kurapika heard her footsteps, he lazily glanced up from the book he’d been reading, only for his jaw to drop.

“(Name), wow… you…”

She smiled, her cheeks warm as he looked at her. Leorio looked up at well, giving her a wink. “Hey, good looking. You ready?”

She giggled, pulling on her backpack. “Yep! Let’s get going!”

Everyone stood, Kurapika’s eyes glued to her. He had to admit, she looked damn good in red. It was hard to look away, especially when the sweetheart neckline exposed a good portion of her cleavage.

“You’re staring, blondie.” Killua said, pinching Kurapika’s arm.

Kurapika helped, finally looking away to glare at the white haired boy. “I did you a favor, you don’t want her finding out you’re a creep, do you?”

He scowled. “I’m not a creep.”

“Uh huh, whatever you say, blondie.”

Before the two could start up a fight, Leorio smacked them both over the head. “Hey, I didn’t do anything!” Kurapika complained, rubbing his temple.

“Yeah, but you were about to. Get in the car, (Name) and Gon are waiting.”

The two grumbled, but climbed into the mom van without another word.

——————

The corn maze took place further out in the country, on a small farm where a fair was held. There were little games, a food truck selling various fair foods, and of course the corn maze.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask this, but what is a corn maze?”

The groups swiveled their heads to look at Kurapika, who blinked. “What?”

Killua grabbed (Name)’s arm, laughing. “Wait, don’t tell him. It’ll make this even funnier.”

(Name) rolled her eyes. “Killua, that’s mean. A corn maze is a maze you walk through with friends, sometimes full of scare actors that jump out and… well, scare you.”

Kurapika scowled, his blonde brows knitting together in concern. “When it’s fight or flight, I usually choose flight.”

Leorio and (Name) glanced at each other nervously. “Well shit, Kurapika. You sure you want to do this, then? Hitting the workers will get us kicked out.”

Kurapika scoffed, waving his hand dismissively at Leorio. “Oh please, I can handle some teenagers in dollar store masks.”

Gon smiled, patting his friend’s shoulder. “If you get scared, you can hold my hand, Kurapika!”

The blonde couldn’t be mad at Gon, so he only sighed with a small smile. “Thanks, Gon.”

(Name) grabbed Kurapika’s hand, giving him a shy. “I um… can hold your hand too.”

The blonde blushed, quickly turning his head away. “O-oh, that would be appreciated.”

They walked towards the corn maze hand in hand. Leorio showed the woman up front their tickets, and they were able to walk in without waiting in the long line.

“Okay everyone, let’s stick together a-“

Gon and Killua were already running off, hand in hand and laughing. They were too cute, so (Name) could only sigh. “Well, they’re a lost cause. We should try to stick together, though.”

Leorio nodded, taking the lead. “Don’t worry ladies, I’ll protect you.”

(Name) giggled, but Kurapika only narrowed his eyes at the taller man.

They began their walk, the sound of people screaming and soft, horror themed music playing as fog clung to their heels. It was mostly peaceful at first, (Name) and Kurapika sharing flustered looks as they walked with their fingers interlocked.

That was until someone jumped out at (Name), brandishing a fake knife. “AH!”

She screamed, hiding her face in Kurapika’s chest. The blonde tried not to show he’d been scared as well, coughing to hide his fear. “It’s okay, (Name), I’ve got you.”

The man, who seemed to take joy in (Name)’s fear, continued to approach the two. “You scared, little girls? I eat pretty things like you two for brea-“

Leorio raised an eyebrow, staring down at the actor as he slowly looked up. Now, Leorio was intimidating to most with his height alone, but in the dark with his glasses glinting in the faint light, he looked terrifying.

“Back off.”

The man held up his hands and backed away into the darkness, the two sighing in relief. They both hugged Leorio, the tall man blinking in surprise when even Kurapika seemed grateful.

“Leorio, thank you for being so tall and muscular and handsome… and for saving us.”

Kurapika blinked, pulling away from Leorio and glancing at (Name). “Were the first few things necessary?”

Leorio laughed, his face growing red, the man glad his blush could be hidden in the darkness. “Y-yeah sunshine, you didn’t need to say all that.”

She pouted, holding him tighter. “But I meant it! If you weren’t so damn handsome that guy wouldn’t have run away! He must of been intimated by your good looks!”

Neither of them had the heart to tell her the man had run away due to being a behemoth of a man. She didn’t see him as scary, and that was okay. “Yeah yeah, let’s keep moving.”

Now the two stuck close to Leorio, like ducklings following their mother into traffic.

They were scared a few more times, running into dead ends and laughing at the bad decorations before they reached the midway point. “I think we’re getting closer to the end, guys!”

(Name) giggled, spinning around happily, not even noticing that someone snuck up behind her until she bumped into their bare chest.

“Oh? Picking a fight with me, little girl?”

Her wrist was grabbed, the man holding her arm behind her back and laughing maniacally. “H-hey!”

Kurapika and Leorio suddenly became very serious, the latter stepping forward. “Hey, you’re not supposed to touch her.”

The actor rolled his eyes, letting (Name) go and pushing her slightly so she fell onto the ground. “Oh don’t ruin the fun, you bunch of babies.”

She hissed out in pain, revealing a big scrape on her knee. Leorio gasped, kneeling down beside her. “Hey you douchebag, she j- Kurapika?”

The blonde had gone wide eyed, his eyes scarlet behind his gray contacts. “You…”

Kurapika hadn’t even processed (Name)’s pain, his eyes focused on the man’s chest.

There, on his left breast, was a small spider tattoo, with the number 15 on it. When Leorio noticed, his jaw dropped, his arms wrapping around (Name) in an attempt to shield her. “Is he..?”

Kurapika didn’t speak, stepping forward and grabbing the man by his arm, pinning him to the ground and wrenching his arm behind his back.

The actor screamed in pain, trying to wiggle out of Kurapika’s grasp. “Hey, what the hell are you-“

“Do you have any idea what that tattoo means, you scum?”

The man went quiet, shivering. “W-what? It’s a fake tattoo!”

Kurapika sneered, gripping his arm tighter. “I’m well aware. The Phantom Troupe only has 12 members.”

The man began to cry, struggling. “I don’t know what that is, I just saw this fake tattoo in the store and-“

Kurapika growled. “Ignorance won’t save you. That is the mark of a member of the Phantom Troupe, a band of murderous thieves that killed my entire-“

(Name) covered Kurapika’s mouth from behind, whispering into his ear. “Kurapika, shh. You have no idea who could be listening. You’re laying low, remember?”

Kurapika took a moment to calm down before nodding. He let go of the man’s arm, standing up and brushing off his tabard. “Go wash that off, before I rip it off of your skin.”

The actor scurried away, not bothering to pick up his mask that fell. Kurapika’s eyes followed him, only leaning his form when he disappeared from sight. “Kurapika…”

(Name) held onto his hand, squeezing lightly. The blonde didn’t say anything, but he didn’t pull away from her. It was definitely an improvement.

“… let’s keep going. I’m ready to go home.” Kurapika said, pulling (Name) forward by the hand. Leorio gave them a worried look.

Actors seemed to avoid them now, Kurapika’s aura enough to scare them off. Some even pointed shaky fingers towards the correct path, the blonde not sparing them a second glance.

“Wow, Kurapika. I think you might be the scariest thing in this maze.” (Name) said, trying to lighten the mood.

His lip twitched up in a smile, the blonde giving her hand a light squeeze. “I’m only scary when I need to be, angel.”

She felt her face warm up at the pet name. ‘He’s still calling me angel… I thought it was just a little joke.’

Leorio trailed behind them, making sure neither of them tripped and that they got to have their time together.

As they neared the end of the maze, Kurapika’s mood steadily improved. He even laughed when (Name) jumped into his arms after someone spooked her.

“Careful, you stepped on my foot.” he teased, bumping into some of the corn.

Unfortunately, this small bump would be the end of their happy moment.

He felt something fall on his head, the blonde blinking and reaching his hand up to pick up the object.

(Name) knew when the hand she held in hers gripped into hers so tightly she could feel his nails dog into her skin, that something bad had happened.

Everything happened so quickly. Kurapika revealed the object that fell on him, a palm sized plastic spider. The two others blinked, the memory of Kurapika telling them how much he hated spiders popping up in their mind.

Next came the screaming. Kurapika threw the spider as hard as he could, the poor googly eyed thing breaking on the ground. (Name) nearly toppled over when Kurapika launched himself into her, the woman ending up with him in her arms bridal style.

He couldn’t speak. The incident earlier already had his nerves shot, so the spider falling on his was his breaking point. Tears streamed down his cheeks, panic in his scarlet eyes. (Name) let him bury his face in her neck, glancing at Leorio helplessly.

The tall man nodded, leading them both out of the maze, his glare enough to keep anyone else from bothering them. (Name) hurried to the mom van to get Kurapika to a quiet, safe place.

She attempted to set him down, but he wouldn’t unhand her. He clung to her separately, his chest heaving as a panic attack wracked his body.

“Shh, I’m right here Pika.”

She climbed into the backseat with him in his arms, allowing him to cry into her chest as she tried her best to soothe him. She gave him a few minutes before she cupped his cheek. “Come on, let’s breathe together okay?”

She employed the same tactic she used when they were staying at the Zoldyck estate, having him follow her lead until he finally calmed down.

The blonde leaned his forehead against hers, his tears falling onto her cheeks. “(Name)… thank you… th-thank you…”

He smiled, his eyes a little puffy and red from crying. She wiped away his tears, moving her hands to grasp his own. “It’s no problem, really. I-“

They both screamed when a mannequin head pressed against the car window, banging against the glass as someone screamed. This sent Kurapika back into a panic attack, his eyes wide in terror as he began to cry again.

Someone laughing outside could be heard, and (Name) felt her heart sink when she recognized it.

“Killua Zoldyck!? What the fuck??”

The laughter stopped suddenly, the mannequin head falling to the ground as Killua’s face popped up. He looked confused and… scared.

When he spotted Kurapika’s tears and (Name)’s angered face, he realized that he fucked.

“Killua, that was beyond too far! Can’t you see he’s fucking terrified!? Why would you do that?”

Tears ran down her own cheeks, and the look of disappointment and disbelief in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Killua. “W-wait mom, I didn’t-“

She held up her hand, shaking her head. “Go find Leorio, I’ll deal with you later.”

He felt tears well up in his own eyes, terror slowly sinking into his chest. Killua didn’t say another word, leaving.

“Shh, shh, it was just Killua. He’s gone now…”

(Name) felt conflicted. She hadn’t meant to yell at Killua, but he’d just done something incredibly cruel. Even if he and Kurapika had some kind of feud going on, it was beyond fucked up to scare him during a panic attack.

Calming him down the second time was much harder, and even after he stopped crying, he clung to her desperately, his hands shaking.

Killua walked back to the fair grounds, his eyes full of tears and his body trembling. (Name) had never yelled like that at him before, never LOOKED at him like that before. ‘She’s gonna… she’s gonna give up on me.’

Leorio and Gon spotted Killua, the two running up to him. “Hey bud, we’ve been looking f… Killua?”

Killua looked up at Leorio, his lip trembling. “Mom… mom is mad at me. I… I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

Leorio, one of the only people besides (Name) and Gon to see him cry sighed and pulled him into a hug, Gon joining. “Hey, bud, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened?”

Killua explained, stuttering and stumbling over his words. Leorio sighed, patting his back. “And you didn’t know he was upset?”

“N-No! I just saw that they were in the van and wanted to scare them!”

Gon leaned his head against Killua’s shoulder. “I understand why (Name) was angry, but I’m sure if we explain things to her, she’ll understand.”

Killua have a shaky nod, his hand gripping Leorio’s sweater. The tall man pat his head. “Alright boys, let’s go clear things up.”

———————

(Name finally got Kurapika to relax, the blonde now sleeping with his head resting on her shoulder. She only glanced up briefly when Leorio opened the door on her side. “(Name), how is he doing?”

She smiled tiredly, giving a thumbs up. He fell asleep, so I’d say pretty good.”

Leorio nodded, glancing off to the right. “About Killua…”

(Name) pursed her lips. “Did he come to apologize?”

Leorio sighed, pulling Killua into view. “(Name), listen to what he has to say before you say anything else.”

(Name) furrowed her brows, but sighed. “Okay, go on.”

Killua couldn’t meet her eyes, and the sight of tears running down his cheeks made her eyes soften. “M-mom I… I didn’t know what happens to Kurapika. I just wanted to scare you two, I promise I wouldn’t have if I knew how upset he was!”

She nodded, giving him a soft smile. “Okay, okay I believe you kiddo. Sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

Her words didn’t seem to calm him down though, the boy only stiffly nodding before moving to sit in the front seat. Gon glanced at him with a worried look before sliding in next to (Name).

“Uh, I’ll drive since… you’ve got him.”

(Name) nodded, turning her ficus back in Kurapika. He was sleeping soundly, clutching her shirt as they rode home.

Kurapika wouldn’t leave (Name)’s side even when they arrived back at her house, meaning they had to sleep in the same bed together. She ended up crashing with him in his room, thinking it would be more comfortable and familiar for him.

Through the night, Kurapika would wake up with night terrors, screaming and thrashing before being settled back into sleep by gentle cooing and touches.

In the morning, (Name) had to wake him up so she could drive him to his bus stop, the blonde feeling exhausted, but no longer scared.

He honestly felt embarrassed over his behavior, having to be reassured multiple times that nothing he did would make her think any less of him. “It’s okay, Kurapika. Everyone has their moments, even me.”

The two got ready, Kurapika hesitantly letting her leave to get dressed in her room. Once they were ready, the two left for the bus stop.

Kurapika rode shotgun, glancing at her nervously with his cheeks pink as they approached their destination.

They got out, (Name) helping him with his duffel bag before smiling. “Kurapika, I really enjoyed having you with us. These past two months have been some of the happiest I’ve had in a long time.”

Her soft, sad smile made his heart ache. In that moment, he knew that she assumed he’d be leaving her for good. It hurt, but he didn’t blame her for thinking that way. Hell, he thought that was how this story would end too.

But instead, Kurapika dropped his duffel bag on the ground, stepping forward and cupping her cheeks, his face burning red as he placed his lips on hers, hoping to convey his intense feelings through the kiss.

(Name)’s eyes went so wide she felt like they might bulge out of her skull. This wasn’t acting for a mission, Kurapika didn’t need help getting off so he wouldn’t embarrassed, he was kissing her.

And she couldn’t understand why.

He pulled away, his thumb brushing against her lip as he stared at her with those pretty brown eyes. “(Name)… I promise I’ll be back. Please… please believe me.”

There was no love confession, no passionate embrace, just a promise that he would return.

And that was more than enough for (Name). She nodded, leaning into his touch, sighing softly. “Okay, I believe you, my Pika.”

Kurapika’s breath hitched in his throat, the blonde considering going in for another kiss before his bus pulled up. He cursed it under his breath, picking up his duffle bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you in a month, (Name).”

She nodded, giving him a brave smile. “I’ll really miss you.”

With that, he boarded his bus, biting his lip as she faded from view. ‘I… I’ll ask her out on a date when I get back. I will.”

Kurapika sat down, a giddy smile on his face as he touched his fingers to his lips. ‘God I love her.’

——————

Even that night after Gon had left for whale island and Leorio went home, (Name) was still on another planet, her face hot and eyes distant. She kept replaying the moment in her head over and over, feeling her heart thump against her ribs harder and harder.

‘He kissed me, he really kissed me…’

She didn’t even notice Killua coming up behind her, his arm trembling as he reached a hand up to tap her shoulder. “Mom?

(Name) jumped, letting out a yelp before holding a hand over her heart. “Holy- oh Killua you scared me!”

He flinched at her slightly raised voice, the woman immediately taking notice. “Killua? Baby is something wrong?”

The young boy looked up at her, the beginnings of tears beading in the corners of his eyes. “Do you… do you ever regret taking me in?”

(Name) felt her heart sink, her hands immediately going to his cheeks to cup them, wiping away his tears. “Oh my… Killua, no, no never. You’re the best thing to come out of everything. Having you here makes everything better. Why would you anything else, sweetheart?”

He shook his head, clinging his fists. “It’s just… I know there’s a lot going on and I don’t always behave-“

“Killua.”

She pulled him into a hug, sinking down onto the floor with him when his knees buckled. He began to sob into her shoulder, holding onto him tightly. “Listen baby, I will never give up on you. This is your home just as much as it is mine. No matter who you choose to be, this will always be somewhere you can come back to, and I will always be here to support and love you every step of the way.”

He clutched her shirt, crying harder. “B-but I’ve killed and hurt people, I’ve gotten you in trouble so many times!”

“Humans are constantly evolving, Killua. To stagnate is a fate worse than death.”

She soothed him, running her fingers through his hair as he sobbed. “But… but you said you were going to ‘deal with me later’.”

She blinked, looking at him. “Yeah, as in ground or talk to you. What did you think I meant- oh.”

(Name) remembered that punishment in the Zoldyck household usually involves torture and emotional neglect. She cursed herself for not thinking, kissing his forehead.

“It’s okay to act like a kid. Most kids get into trouble, I knew that when I decided to take you in. I’m not going to hurt or shun you for doing something any other kid would do. You’re safe here, Killua. My love isn’t conditional.”

He sniffled, looking up at her. “Really? You aren’t… you aren’t going to abandon me?”

She nodded, wiping away his tears. “Never. I would rather die than leave you alone.”

It took a few minutes for him to calm down, and when he did, (Name) picked him up and carried him to the couch. “I’ll order us some takeout and we can watch whatever you want, okay?”

He nodded, curling up under the quilt (Name) made for him years ago.

The two spent the night together, (Name) making sure he knew he wasn’t alone. They ended up passing out on the couch after binging Housewives of York New, popcorn strewn across the floor.

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 18: "My body is one big ache"

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Seungkwan (flu)

Caregiver(s): The8

Word Count: 1,416

Notes: Semi-based on my friend saying the "I shouldn't have dropped it low so many times" line, but about back issues rather than illness. It's just too good NOT to use!

When Minghao stumbled to the bathroom at two in the morning for a glass of water, he was genuinely shocked to find the light already on, door halfway open, and Seungkwan crumpled in a heap on the floor. Naturally, Minghao’s sleepiness disappeared in a flash, and he basically fell to the floor and slid on his knees over to the younger man, grasping him by the shoulders. Seungkwan startled awake, helpless, confused, glassy eyes blinking up at Minghao.

“Kwannie, what the fuck?!” the dancer whispered, looking the vocalist up and down. “What’s wrong?!”

Seungkwan’s lower lip jutted out and his eyes filled with tears. “Hao, I don’t feel good.” 

Minghao’s panic slowly eased out of his body as he ran his hands up and down Seungkwan’s arms. “I know, bud. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you in bed?”

“When I woke up, I felt kinda nauseous, so I figured it was safer to be here than there.” 

Minghao frowned, taking a knee to slide a hand against Seungkwan’s burning forehead. “How are you feeling now?”

“My body is one big ache.” The vocalist groaned. “Maybe I shouldn’t have dropped it low so many times last night.” He hid his face in his hands, squeezing at the space between his eyebrows in disappointment. 

Minghao smirked. “Or maybe you shouldn’t have performed on stage with the flu.” Seungkwan whined, the noise somehow both raspy and congested, and the dancer’s heart melted for his friend. “You still feel nauseous?”

Seungkwan shook his head. “That stopped literally as soon as I walked in here. I think I just…” His hand circled around his head. “Dizzy from the medicine wearing off. Do I feel warm to you?” He leaned forward slightly, and Minghao obligingly felt his skin again. 

“You’re burning up, kid.” Seungkwan fell back against the wall, eyes closing. “How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know! There’s no clock in here!” Minghao had to stop himself from laughing at how pitiful Seungkwan’s voice was. “And now I’m too tired to walk back to my bed.”

“Well, I can help with that.” Minghao pushed himself to his feet, hands finding his hips.“You wanna shower first? You’re really sweaty.”

Seungkwan pouted. “Mean.”

“Not mean. Accurate.”

“Not kind.”

Minghao rolled his eyes. “Do you want to shower or just change clothes?”

“Change clothes, please.”

“Okay. Can you chill here for a sec?” Seungkwan nodded, and Minghao raced off into the hall. He made a stop in his own room, grabbing his electric blanket before heading to Seungkwan’s room. Minghao set about his work quickly: plug in the electric blanket and position it on the bed, pick out the coziest pair of pajamas he could find, pull the bag in the trash can closed and move the empty can closer to the bed just in case the nausea was real…

In no time, he was back in the bathroom. Seungkwan was still leaning heavily against the wall, heavy eyelids drooping closed. He looked up when Minghao entered. 

“You good?”

“Stupid question.” 

Minghao nodded. “Fair enough.” He held out his hands. “Let’s get you to bed.” Seungkwan simply stared back and forth from Minghao’s hands to his eyes. “Kwannie, I love you, but I’m too tired to carry you. It’s this or I drag your ass down the hall.”

Seungkwan shook his head. “Don’t want to get you sick…”

Minghao rolled his eyes skyward, then reached forward and physically pulled Seungkwan to his feet. The younger man whined, slumping against Minghao’s shoulder. “I’m here, aren’t I? If I cared about getting sick, I would’ve woken someone else to deal with you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“I didn’t mean it like that, love.” Minghao’s voice softened immediately as he began to walk Seungkwan back to his room. He knew from experience how much Seungkwan hated being a burden, how he bottled up all of his feelings just so it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. How much he hated having to be ‘dealt with’ in anyway. Usually, such an expression would’ve been taken as the joke it was, but clearly this wasn’t a usual circumstance. “I was trying to be funny. This isn’t an inconvenience at all. I’m happy to be here, and I really don’t give a shit about your germs. I just care about you.”

Seungkwan’s head fell against his shoulder. “I love you, Hao.”

“Love you too.” 

When they arrived in Seungkwan’s room, the vocalist stepped away from Minghao’s embrace, stumbling to the bed as he was coughed harshly into his sleeve. Minghao winced, his eyes darting to the bedside table. He reached for the water bottle there, shaking it to assess the water left. It felt empty. “I’ll be right back.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, running back to the bathroom to refill Seungkwan’s water bottle. While there, he searched the cabinet for their cold and flu medicine. Medical terminology always took him an extra moment to make sense of, but he was used to the color of the bottle, and, upon reading the label, he quickly found the words he was looking for: ‘don’t take on an empty stomach.

Minghao returned to Seungkwan’s room just long enough to place both bottles (water and medicine) on the nightstand, pointing at his patient. “Hang on…” He darted away again, this time to the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets there for something quick and easy to eat. He found a box of crackers, and grabbed the open sleeve, presenting them to Seungkwan upon his return. 

“What?” the vocalist asked, clearly confused. 

“You can’t take medicine on an empty stomach, and you mentioned how your previous meds had worn off, so…” Minghao shook the crackers once. “Eat up.” Seungkwan nodded, accepting the crackers. Minghao nodded back, hands on his hips again, surveying the room. His back straightened with a new thought. “Okay, one more time, and then I’ll be back.” He raced back to the bathroom, pulling their thermometer gun from the drawer. 

“How many do I need to eat?” Seungkwan asked immediately when Minghao walked back through his door. 

The dancer shrugged. “I don’t know? Eight? Ten? Maybe nine?” 

“Okay.” Seungkwan frowned down at the cracker in his hand before taking a cautious bite out of it. 

It took every strand of will power Minghao had not to laugh. “How many have you had?”

Seungkwan shrugged. “Six?”

“That’ll be fine.” 

“Are you sure?”

Minghao nodded. “We just need something in your stomach.” Seungkwan sighed gratefully, carefully placing the remaining sleeve of crackers on the nightstand. Minghao moved to point the thermometer at his forehead. He nodded at the numbers. “Not terrible. But still not great.”

“That’s what the medicine is for.”

“Right.” Minghao measured out a dose of the liquid, passing it to Seungkwan and waiting avidly with his water bottle. As soon as the medicine was down, Seungkwan rolled over into his bed, inching like a worm to get into a comfy position. Minghao waited until he was satisfied before pulling the blankets over him.

Seungkwan sat up almost immediately, hands fumbling in the material on top of him Minghao tensed. “Is this your blanket?” Seungkwan looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Yeah. You said you were really achy, and the electric blanket it my favorite remedy for sore muscles.” Minghao shrugged, some of the tension leaving his body. “I can also go grab my heating pad if there’s something else you want to…”

“Thank you.” The pure gratitude in Seungkwan’s voice, the genuine relief, melted Minghao’s heart on the spot.

The dancer carded his fingers through Seungkwan’s hair. “Of course, angel. Now lay back down.” Seungkwan did as told. “Rest. That’s what your body needs.” After one final reassuring smile, he turned to go.

“Hey Hao?”

Minghao turned back. “Yeah?”

“Can you… can you stay here? Until I fall asleep?”

Minghao smiled, returning to the bed, and sitting down on the edge. “Of course.” Seugnkwan returned his smile before he curled up on his side, body facing Minghao. One hand popped out of the blanket, and the dancer took it instantly. They sat like that, comfortably silent, for an indeterminate amount of time (Minghao hadn’t brought his phone and Seungkwan’s room, much like the bathroom, didn’t have a clock.) But that didn’t stop Minghao from disappearing into his own thoughts as he hummed a soft melody for his friend. 

He genuinely thought Seungkwan was asleep when he whispered, “Hey Hao?”

“Yes, hun?”

“I love you.”

The softest smile. “I love you more.”

[katsukikitten]

Zodel only has patience for you. Everyone else is a stepping stone to reach the Heavens and drag them down to Hell himself.

What others call junk you call treasure.

Fingers smoothing over threadbare blankets or jackets, mange looking faux fur on old stuffed animals. Smooth flat metal of scissors until rust begins to eat at the edges making them jagged.

Useless.

Garbage.

But it was all jinki to you.

Pieces of people's souls could be trapped in items, embedded into the very atoms that made the item smooth or rough to the touch. As if woven into the fabric itself and if you were a Giver, which you were, jinki was all that much more valuable.

So here you stand with your sewn together backpack, black velveteen fabric well worn, eyes replaced with loving x stitching and one of the cat ears long since gone. It's belly swollen and full of treasures clinking together, whispering their thanks to you as you shift through the garbage in the contaminated zone. Spiked gas mask snug against your face as it filters the rancid air while you fixate on the items in the pale moonlight.

No need for you to be too vigilant considering no one was ever out this far, at least no one with half a mind. Trash beasts, raiders or vandals would be the most company you'd get and even then that was few and far in between the major cities of the Abyss. You spent the majority of your time under the haze of the stinking trash listening out for the loudest jinki, the most angry, resentful, growling thing before your ears perked.

Body on instinct dropping to the ground before you hear the footsteps and then the voices.

But most of all the jinki.

“Boss…”

“Don't.” Sharper than any knife you've held, gaze sharper still as it turns onto the goon that follows. You can't see from this distance, everything mostly a blob and their voices barely carry out to you. But even if you could hear them all you can focus on is the loud humming coming from the poorly sewn together jacket on the man's broad shoulders.

I can help comes the soft whisper from the pile of trash, your fingers digging into the heap, dark power snaking from one piece to another as if being passed along before you finally land in a doll. Hair burnt off and ripped out, missing both arms, a leg but thankfully she still had one good eye.

The doll lies close to the two men, unblinking gaze fixated on them as you close your left to see better.

One is skinny, lanky and with long tightly woven dreads, fingers covered in claws that retract to rings as he falls into step behind the much larger man with dark midnight hair.

Dreads’ jinki are loud, hard to ignore, muttering endlessly between themselves in gravely rasps. Hissing, agitated sounds over one another as it morphs into a quickening slurred babble, almost as if paranoia drives their conversation.

The second is wrapped around the broader man, dark black and filled with so much power it hums. Loudly, to the point it begins to drown out the rushing blood in your ears, drown out every thought as the buzzing continues to grow. He adjusts the jacket and it preens before back to the constant almost nauseating drone.

You want that fuckin jinki.

“Boss I couldn't get the sky person but-” Dreads attempts again to get a word in edgewise before he's interrupted by another pointed tone.

“You failed did you not?” Cold dark eyes look over his shoulder as they continue to walk along the tall trash heap, much taller than them as the duster jacket held together by large staples and stitches steadily hums.

Dreads doesn't answer, crazed eyes dropping to the junk underfoot in shame.

“Twice.” Dreads flinches as if struck but the broad man doesn't move an inch. Nothing more than a turn of his head as a shadow slinks from the jacket, up his throat and cheek trying to snake over his eye before a portal opens up in front of the boss. Illuminating them both in a washed out ethereal glow before he steps through.

Dreads waits outside, gritting his teeth until bone grinds against bone, tick in his jaw that creaks before the voice in the swirling void calls out.

“Come.” And Dreads obeys like any good dog.

The portal disappears in a matter of seconds leaving you to count all the way up to sixty before you will the doll to move. Legs of inky black jutting out where plastic limbs once were, slinking towards where the portal appeared. Lurking around what looks to be a base now that you're really paying attention only to come up empty in your search for an entrance.

Tapping your fingers as you think. Whoever had the portal jinki couldn't always be available right? Plus the big scary boss man didn't seem the type to rely fully on one person especially since one of his goons already proved a failure so there had to be a hidden entrance somewhere.

The doll wanders aimlessly for hours by your command until you spy it, the smallest flutter of a breeze coming from the pile. Kicking your feet as you think of just how good that jacket will feel swallowing up your frame even more so than the stocky build it sat on.

Having the doll wait idle until you see yourself approaching through its dingy glassy eye. The plastic lid and long singed lashes flutter shut as you come to squat near the item. Let your fingers curve over her skull feeling the fuzz of worn down faux hair.

“Thank you.” A breathy whisper before you release the item, letting it rest against the wall where it would surely blend in with all the other discards from Heaven. Sharp claws slipping under the metal pulling harshly waiting for the hinges to whine from the strain of resisting the lock.

It's up high, well above your head before you're pulling your bag off of one of your shoulders. Digging around for the perfect tool, an old ornate letter opener. You use your gift to sharpen the bread to a deadly point, reaching on tiptoes before the blade connects with the lock. Yanking it towards your body and it slices through the metal with ease and the door yawns open. You return the jinki and your mask to your backpack before you wander around the base.

Following the sound of the hum and ignoring the loud slow beat that faintly reminds you of a heart beat. Ignoring the pacing, the clinking of tools, the hiss of pleasure, the electric charge as a comb brushes through hair because all you can hear is the all consuming hum.

Sneaking into a dark room, pitch black and giving your eyes a moment to adjust to the tiny flecks of moon light let in from the small holes in the walls. Holding your breath as you listen, pushing down the hum to hear the deep slow breathing of the man who owns the jinki. Once you've determined he's asleep you tiptoe into the room in a rush spying the dark item hanging on the back of a chair.

“Hello.” A breathy whisper to the jacket as your fingers brush over the fabric, the feeling vibrates in your very marrow and it makes you smile manically. It's heavy even if it is half stitched and stapled together, thick and yet you think you wouldn't overheat under the sun.

Lifting it gently from the chair slipping one arm through makes you a little light headed, the shadow sneaking up your throat in a curious purr. Crawling up your jaw as you go to put your other arm through and when the jacket is fully over your shoulders you sigh slowly. You can smell the previous wearer, a mixture of musky sweat and well worn leather warmed by the sun, it makes you feel good. Relaxed. So you nestle deeper and the shadow comes out further. Caressing over your lips as it starts to work its way up to cover your other eye, slowly, so slowly, the jacket begins to wear you.

Large rough hands slip under the shoulders of the jacket, smooth over the thin fabric of your t-shirt as the coat is pulled away from your body. The shadow retreats.

For now.

You turn to look over your shoulder, face half shrouded in shadow darker than night, the jacket still trying to cling to you. But your focus isn't on the purring from the fabric, it's on the tall broad man who stands behind you. His dark midnight hair is messy from sleep, more strands falling over his forehead than before, eyes dark and cold as they bite into you despite the gentle touch at your back.

He's shirtless himself, clothes mostly discarded at the foot of the bed, only the jacket was placed with care.

You reach around you, grabbing onto his thick forearms with sharp claws, nails hardened with a razor's edge. For whatever reason you hesitate, let it barely poke his skin and only small droplets bead to the surface.

“Careful.” His voice is deep and dark from disuse, having been in a deep enough sleep, it gives him even more of an edge. He leans closer, face impassive and frozen like any marble statue you'd seen in books discarded from the heavens. It is as if he's studying you, pulling the coat away from you gently, slowly and the shadow whines as it returns to the black fabric it came from, “What are you doing here?”

“Your jinki called me.” A half truth, mostly it just hummed from its own great power but the way it whispers to you now, to pull the fabric back up and have the high collar protect your throat gives more truth to your statement. Moving your hands from his skin to avoid a fight, fisting the opening of his jacket almost nervously.

Even after a long stretch of silence he doesn't reply, if he's dissatisfied or pleased with your answer you cannot tell, face still stone cold as his unblinking eyes stare down at you.

“I just love well worn things.” You unclasp your hands from around the opening of the jacket and let him peel it from your frame, “They have so much to tell me.”

The sound is soft and breathy like a confession in mass and it stills his movements. His hands stopping at the crook of your elbows now with the jacket half on and the shadow fully gone. You freeze, pulling in a shallow breath to hold.

You expect to be taunted, laughed at or struck, since that's what normally happened when you claim you could actually hear what the jinki said. Because even among the rejects you didn't belong. Too sharp, too quick, too loud, too cruel or too much. Always always too much until only the jinki liked your company.

Or maybe they just tolerated you since they couldn't move, it's not as if there was anyone else to hear them.

He cradles your jaw, tilting you up to face him instead of looking at the floor.

“There is no shame in that.” His tone and intense gaze soften minutely, missed in the dark as you stare back up at him.

“There isn't?”

“No.” He allows his hands to move on their own, allows his thumb to swipe over the apple of your cheek, “Is that not how jinki becomes jinki?”

Sliding over your throat, fingers slipping under your collar to notice you don't have a com necklace, that you acted alone, tracing your smooth skin. Engulfing and squeezing at the tender column before slowly grazing your cheek and palming the curve of your skull.

“How things and people become precious? Because they are loved?” Monotone as he delivers his lines and you're still too mesmerized to move, “Even if they are discarded by the Heavens and the sky people.”

“What's a sky person? I heard you two earlier. Is it that boy with the cleaners?” You blink up at him owlishly and he sighs deeply. Returns to his task of taking his jinki off of you, following down your exposed skin with his rough palms before gently placing it in your lap for now. You wrap your arms around it like a hug, bringing it to your chest as you watch him. He picks up a clean white button up, leaving a few open at the top before his muscular thighs slip into dark pants.

“No one saw you slip in, little stray?” He asks, holding out his hand towards you, reluctantly you place the heavy duster in his hands. He flips the dark fabric around as he slides his arms into it. Adjusting it just so and now the high collar of his jacket frames his jaw.

“No.” He helps you to your feet from the chair, “I heard them. They're noisy.”

“Hmm.” He hums, fingers slipping under the straps of your backpack earning a jolt from you when he tries to remove it, “Don't worry. You want to stay right?”

You take a step back and like a patient predator he doesn't move.

“Be close to my jinki? Since it loves to hum such sweet songs to you.” He stands as if there were a rod in his back, speaks with little to no emotion and if you were being honest he scares you a little.

Yet at the same time, when he lifts his arm in a silent invention, you step forward. Slipping your arm under his to press your face into his chest. His shirt smells like clean linen and his skin still smells like well worn leather in the sun with that bit of sweat that you hope clings to you.

The jinki purrs its approval before going silent when his arm wraps around you, pulls you closer in an uncharacteristic notion. A part of you thinks this is a farce, that he has other plans for you, that he knows affection, false promises you'll fall for, and patience are how he can trap the feral cat that is you.

“Would you like to be mine, stray?” He's tilting your chin to look into his eyes again, fingers tight on your jaw as he stares down at you with dark rich eyes. Even with your suspicion of ulterior motives your tongue moves all on its own.

“Yes.” Breaking free of his grip to hide your face in his chest again, his heart rate is slow, unhurriedly, and soft while yours roars. This attraction is odd and magnetic when you usually shoved people out of your life, yet here you stood stepping into his shadow most likely becoming just another one of his disposable goons.

“But only for a little while.”

[bradshawsbaby]

I didn’t have anywhere else to go for Hannix :)

It’s been a minute since I’ve written for Hannix, huh? I think this one works particularly well during their FWB Era.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Natasha snapped, frustratedly running a hand through her dark hair as she swiftly moved towards the front door.

With her PMS raging, she’d been looking forward to a night at home alone, just her, some chocolate, and the trash TV she never had time to watch. The boys had all been blowing up the group chat earlier, talking about spending their Friday night at a new club downtown that Mickey had recently gone to on a date, but she’d gracefully bowed out, knowing she wouldn’t make very good company tonight.

Just as she’d been really getting into some ridiculous dating show she couldn’t even remember the name of, an insistent knocking on her front door had startled her out of her amusement. It wouldn’t let up either. Whoever was at her front door at nearly one in the morning evidently really needed to see her.

“Who is it?” she demanded, attempting to surreptitiously glance out the front window.

“It’s Bagman,” came a slurred voice, another knock punctuating his response.

Rolling her eyes heavenward, Natasha let out a long-suffering sigh and pulled open her front door, frowning and crossing her arms over her chest when she took in the sight of him, blonde hair mussed, the top three buttons of his shirt mysteriously gone missing, and the scent of alcohol assaulting her nostrils.

“What are you doing here, Bagman? Where are the rest of the guys?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting to find the rest of the Dagger Squad on her front steps.

“Still out,” Jake responded, swaying slightly on his feet, to the point that Natasha had to reach out to steady him. “But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh, God,” she groaned, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him inside. “C’mon.” The last thing she needed was her neighbors spotting her drunken fuck buddy on her front porch in the middle of the night.

“Look s’pretty,” Jake murmured, reaching up to stroke her dark hair as he stumbled along beside her until they made it to the living room, where she deposited him in a heap on the couch.

“Jake, seriously, why are you here? Did you take an Uber?” With the state he was in, she certainly hoped so.

“I missed you,” be pouted, reaching for her. “Why didn’t you come out with us?”

“I was tired. It’s been a long week,” she said, pushing his hands back when he attempted to wrap them around her waist. “Jake, you’ve got to go home. Nothing’s going to happen tonight, if that’s what you were expecting.”

“Why not?” he frowned.

“For one thing, you’re wasted. For another, I have my period,” she told him bluntly.

Jake groaned sadly, throwing his head back and running his hands down his face. “Can I still stay the night?” he questioned hopefully.

Natasha let out an exasperated sigh. “You can sleep on the couch,” she muttered, picking up the remote and turning off the TV.

He seemed happy enough with that, and while he kicked off his shoes and got himself settled, she went to get him a blanket and a pillow. When she returned to the living room, she swallowed hard at the sight of him in nothing more than his boxers.

“Here,” she said, laying out what she’d brought him.

“Thanks, Minx,” he replied, sounding more subdued and looking like he was about to fall asleep any minute.

“Jake, why did you really come here tonight?” she asked softly.

He looked at her, a flurry of emotions passing through his green eyes. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he finally replied.

She looked at him skeptically. “We both know that’s not true.”

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he said, “You’re right. I didn’t have anywhere else I wanted to go.”

late night prompts

[demialwrites]

Butterfly in a Jar Ch 2

AO3 Link

You’re to return the next day. You have an initial panic about paying your rent on your tiny unit in your tiny apartment building but apparently, the contract includes an allowance. Yet another detail that was forgotten in the panicked signing of the contract. You had a nagging feeling you should worry about your job but you’re either going to fail and possibly disappear or succeed, meaning you won’t need to worry about money for a while.

The uniform Tseng gives you is mainly for the walk across the lobby to the elevator, to avoid anyone working for the company getting too curious. The uniform has the pleasant side effect of putting a soft blanket on your anxiety about being from the Slums. If anyone judges you up here, it would be for what they–incorrectly–guess what your occupation was, not that you were poor and live in a city-sized trash heap under the plate. You resist the urge to give yourself a cursory sniff to check if you smell different from the setting you were in. Not that your nose could tell the difference.

You're not allowed in most of the rooms at Turk HQ. You see the main office in passing only because there's a glass wall with a glass door leading to it. It looks so futuristic and slick, causing a slight pang of inferiority when you automatically compare it to where you live. Having this many rooms barred to you initially makes you feel unwelcome but Tseng hurries you along in such a professional manner that you don’t have time to dwell on it. You end up spending most of your time in the small kitchen and adjoining dining room. You guess that there's also some kind of gym or training room because you see a couple of sweaty Turks walking around in workout clothes, carrying towels.

You also noticed, with relief, that several of these Turks are from places other than atop the plate, making your guard start to lower. Also, some of them are so different from what you’ve seen, even from the variety of individuals living in the Slums, that you’re convinced they’re not from Midgar. Dealing with the VP might involve some disgust on his part but you hadn't considered being on a floor full of people that might feel the same. Now that that unconscious worry has been put to rest, you could get more comfortable with coming here.

It’s obvious when the VP walks into the dining area because he is the only one wearing white. Based on the way he walks, you could believe he wears white based on a petty need to mark himself different from the black-clad Turks. He also has an aura of assumed authority but it lacks the oppressiveness of his father. No wonder these people are having trouble convincing him to behave. He most likely refused with the authority backing his title.

Tseng greets him politely.

You take one look at the man and now you see why they brought someone in. He wears expensive layers of business attire but it doesn't hide his poor state. And he doesn't look stupid. Sickly but not stupid. His narrowed blue eyes show signs of intelligence but have trouble focusing.

He's too skinny. Either that or he prefers to wear clothing several sizes too large. His skin is dry. He rubs at one of his eyes and the action draws attention to how dark the skin underneath is. While it could be a fashion choice, his pale blonde hair looks like it badly needs a trim. It hangs messily in front of his face. This whole time you're examining him, Rufus doesn't notice you sitting there. He towers over you, taller than his father. When his gaze sweeps over you, you note that they share the same eye colour.

The one named Rude, with the shaved head, numerous earrings, and sunglasses, is making dinner. It seems this floor is so exclusive that even the cafeteria cannot deliver. You don't know what it is that he's making but it smells deliciously savory. To your surprise, Rufus sits next to you. You glance at him, then at Tseng.

“This is his first meal of the day,” Tseng says, answering the unasked question.

It's 3 pm.

You make an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, starting to make mental notes. Tseng might be your new best friend here, to help you navigate this mess and make it to the other side. Rufus finally notices you.

“You’re new. And not a Turk.”

He takes you in, turning you over in his mind. Again, not stupid. Definitely not stupid. A little slow right now, is all.

Tseng introduces you by name. “She will be helping you get better from today.”

As Rufus shifts his attention to Tseng, you feel like a toy that's been dropped from a child's tight grasp. “I told my father. No shrinks.”

“I'm not one of those,” you answer for yourself.

“I see,” he says, already done with the conversation.

He ignores you for the rest of the meal. A couple of other Turks drift in and out, grabbing and quickly gobbling their own portions of the meal.

Rufus is grumpy about the reason you’re here, so he continues to ignore you, but the contract requires your presence. You keep adding to the mental notes as the days go by. Rufus refuses, or forgets, to eat but when he does, it must be a dish to his high standards. He judges your microwaved leftovers (Rude turns out to be a great cook but he obviously can't make fresh meals all day) but at least you eat three of them. His meals must have proper vegetables and protein and must be cooked well. He has a body to maintain, you know? He can’t see the contradiction. You just look at him, with his hair casting a darker shadow over the deep circles under his eyes, and try not to shake your head.

There's another man, a man with wild red hair and a rattail, named Reno, often seen in the same room as Rude. He's one you peg as a former Slum-dweller. He moves and talks with the swagger of someone who used to be in a gang down there. Spending any time listening to him, and he talks a lot, would disabuse anyone that he's as stupid as an average gang member. And he's observant, which means you should behave around him. Rude, in comparison, talks very little but his muscles fill out his Turk uniform, as if he prefers to let them speak for him.

Sometimes Rufus eats two meals a day, sometimes one. The one-meal days are when he spends the most time in what you come to know as the forbidden room. You ask Tseng and he says it's for intelligence. You're not allowed to know anything else. If that means Rufus is absorbing information, you can understand that. He can't go outside this floor and he hasn't seen the sun in a long time. You would be hungry for news about the outside world, too. But it seems to have become an obsession. When he leaves the room and ends up in the kitchen, eating something, his eyes are more sunken. Whenever you add up the amount of food he's eating, you know he can't be maintaining his weight, even for someone smaller. He wolfs down a single meal and returns to that same room.

You're watching Rufus particularly closely when you notice a pattern: when someone is using their mobile phone, he has their eyes on them. You don't have one yourself but everyone on this floor carries one.

“Don't you have a phone?” you ask.

He turns and blinks at you like he forgot you were there. “...no.”

He returns to ignoring you, missing the confused look on your face. They took away his phone?

You discover the walk from the Shinra building lobby entrance to the elevator is a quick one, devoid of obstacles. People see your clothes and move aside immediately. Some of them even give you hard stares. It's unnerving but it's a short distance to make it to Tseng.

Too many one-meal days happen in a short period so you have to do something. You brought a paperback novel to read with you when you realized you’d be sitting for so long in the dining room but now the anxiety is making it hard to concentrate. The contract is looming. You ask Tseng to lock the door to the forbidden room the next morning. To your surprise, he does. It's a rush having a Turk obey your order but you snuff that feeling immediately to avoid it turning into arrogance. Instead of getting angry as you expected, Rufus strides suspiciously coolly into the kitchen like he had every intention of coming here first. You know better by now.

The new problem is there is no fresh food because it's past breakfast and not yet lunch. There are only leftovers. Perfectly good stuff is in the fridge but Rufus stares at, huffs, and then closes the door. You roll your eyes. This is one of the rare times Rude is apart from Reno and Reno offers to go get takeout. You consider telling him, no, not to feed this brat, but then decide one thing at a time.

Tseng enters the kitchen and dining area.

“Tseng,” Rufus says.

“Sir?”

Rufus stares at you. He wants to say something but he doesn't. He's good at concealing his feelings but you can tell he's at least annoyed. Excuse me, why are you still here? his eyes say.

“What?” you ask.

“I can't talk about this matter in front of you.”

“And you can't eat properly while I'm not here, so…” You end the sentence with a shrug.

“Hmph.” That response is more of a spoiled boy rather than a grown man. “We can address this later,” Rufus tells Tseng in a smooth and more professional manner.

Tseng nods and leaves like he's been dismissed, presumably to get some work done. You would wonder what they were going to ‘address’ but there's so much going on that you can't know that it fades into the background with the rest of it.

Reno comes back, surprising you with your own portion. You're starting to feel quite welcome here. You put it away for later because you did eat some leftovers while Reno was out. You turn around from the fridge and stick your tongue out at Rufus, who smirks despite himself. Then you resume sitting at the table because, well, where else are you going to go?

“So. Are you the reason the door is locked?” he asks after swallowing a bite.

You both know which door he's talking about. Rufus is still smart despite his poor state. Why is he confined to this floor and not off somewhere more useful? You take a second to imagine punching his father in the face.

Rufus continues, “I spoke to Tseng about what you're truly doing here. Seems you can override my orders among the Turks, as well.”

His gaze sharpens as he says the last sentence. Here it comes. You don’t know this man and what makes him angry. It could when someone curtails his power.

Instead, he squares his body with yours. He launches into what seems like a presentation, complete with hand gestures. You start by frowning because all you’re getting from this is that he’s more educated than you, judging by the erudite words that pepper his sentences. You think he offers money but he doesn’t mention a number. He moves on to asking if you prefer something “more material” when your mood dips; he can’t offer you anything worth more than your life. Finally, you feel nauseous because you’re sick of this ride he's taken you on.

“Stop,” you say, holding both your stomach and your forehead. “My head is spinning. What are you doing? Does that work on anyone?”

He examines you with scrunched brows. “Are you naturally immune?”

“...What? To what?”

“Bullshit.”

Loud laughter bursts out of you.

Rufus grins. You didn't see a vulgar joke coming from him. Maybe he's telling it because he can spot a Slum-dweller from a mile away and thinks you would appreciate him lowering himself to your level. His self-awareness is strangely charming.