#but I’ll remedy that by just never looking at it again /joke

[doctorsiren]

Hello again. Yes, I'm requesting more of Ford because he makes me so unwell. These are my favorite shots of him but I wasn't sure which to pick so it's up to you! Sorry for the poor quality of the second one.

😁 as a fellow ford enjoyer, how about both ? (sorry dipper i removed you)

[chibinasuu]

Sanji x Reader ― sick day; hot drinks

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― @kyllium tags: sfw, pure fluff, GN!reader, no use of y/n

Chopper declared this morning that you had come down with a case of the common cold. 

The little doctor had prescribed you some of his homemade remedy and a full day of bed rest, quarantined in the infirmary so you wouldn’t spread the virus to the crew.

Well, it was unfortunate that the Sunny’s infirmary had a connecting door to the kitchen, and that a certain cook couldn’t care less about the concept of quarantine, much to Chopper’s dismay. 

“I’ve never been sick before in all my life,” he had claimed as he served you some warm ginger tea earlier, “A cold’s not gonna affect me.”

Since then, the cook had returned twice more, each time bringing a steaming mug with him – first a relaxing freshly-whisked matcha, then a soothing hot lemon with honey. 

As if on cue, you heard a soft knock, accompanied by a muffled voice from behind the door, “Sweetheart, are you asleep? Can I come in?”

You were used to Sanji pampering you, but he somewhat became around ten times fussier whenever you were sick. You sighed but smiled fondly anyway, “Come in, Sanji.”

He poked his head in, carrying a tray with yet another steaming mug, along with a carafe of room-temperature water.

“Sanji, seriously?” You chuckled, “More drink?”

His face flushed red, “Chopper said you need lots of fluid.”

“At this rate, I’m gonna have to use the restroom every five minutes.” You joked, your voice a bit nasal due to your stuffy nose. 

“Oh, do you need to go?” He sounded genuinely concerned, “I can carry you upstairs to the bathroom.”

“No.” You laughed, “I’m not bedridden, you know. It’s just a little cold, I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

He looked unconvinced as he carefully set down his tray on Chopper’s desk. He refilled the glass of water on your bedside table as he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” You answered, but was interrupted by a series of poor-timed sneezes, “Okay, less alright than usual, but it’s not that terrible. More annoying than anything, really.” 

“So, what do you have for me this time, then?” You asked as he finally handed you the mug. Orange slices and cranberries were swimming in the lovely amber liquid inside. You caught a whiff of spices emanating from it, even through your blocked nose. 

“Mulled cider!” His eyes sparkled, as they do whenever he was talking about his delectable creations in the kitchen. He rolled Chopper’s swivel chair next to your bed and sat down while he told you about the drink, “I toasted the spices – just some nutmeg, allspice, cloves, star anise, cinnamon – then I poured in some apple cider and let it simmer. Oh, and of course throw in the oranges and cranberries at the very end, et voilà!”

He grinned, “Really simple to make, but amazingly delicious. It’s my favorite winter drink.”

You doubted it was that simple to make – the names of all the spices he listed already left your brain – but you didn’t doubt that it was a walk in the park for the best cook you knew. 

You took a sip and sighed in contentment as the warm liquid slid down your scratchy throat, “This is divine, Sanji. Thanks.”

Sanji’s smile widened at your compliment. There was nothing he loved more than seeing people enjoy the foods and drinks that he made. 

You were glad for Sanji’s company as you slowly drained the mug. You were starting to get antsy from being confined to the infirmary all day.

You asked him about the new pasta recipe he had been testing. He asked what you wanted for dinner. You teased him and asked about what kind of drink he was going to bring you next. 

Sanji was telling you about how he caught Luffy trying to break into the fridge’s lock (again) this afternoon, when he stopped mid-sentence, “Sorry, I should let you rest.”

You shook your head. You enjoyed talking with him. In fact, you could listen to him talk forever. But a yawn betrayed you, and you realized how sleepy you actually were – maybe it was a side effect of the medicine. 

“Well, you should sleep if you want to get better quickly.” He patted your head, “Do you have enough water?”

“Yes, you literally just topped off my glass.” 

“Have you taken the medicine Chopper gave you?”

“Yeah, I think around half an hour ago.” 

“Are you cold? Do you need more blankets?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Do you–”

“Sanji.” 

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll leave now.” 

He started to get up from the chair, but you caught the sleeve of his suit. You didn’t know why you did it – you just suddenly didn’t want him to leave yet. 

You felt heat rising to your cheeks, “Actually, can you stay until I fall asleep?”

He smiled softly as he sat back down, “Sure, angel.”

You laid down fully on the bed and Sanji tucked you in, pulling the blanket up to your chin. 

You fell asleep to Sanji’s fingers in your hair and his soft humming of a lullaby.

a/n: i'll be taking a couple more requests for this event before i close it, so last chance if you want to submit any! <3

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[earlysunshines]

but i’ll love you better, if you let me

son chaeyoung x fem!reader ; angst, smut

synopsis: “you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.”

wc: 7.4k

warnings: smut; thigh riding; jealousy ; cheating!! ; readers a meanie lowk; men mentioned ; smoking; cursing; alcohol; lalala whatever else i missed ; not proofread

a/n: happy late chae day!!! ALSO i don't condone cheating… HOWEVER.

chaeyoung watches you closely, a cigarette perched between your lips as a subtle smirk dances across your features in response to the news.

“boyfriend?” you scoff, almost as if it’s a joke to you. “right.”

furrowing her brows, she looks at you, almost offended.

“what’s with the tone?”

"nothing, nothing...," you mumble, your eyes drilling into hers with intensity. she shrinks under your gaze, just as she always does when you give her that look. you light the end of your cigarette, inhaling shallowly before exhaling a small cloud of smoke.

chaeyoung crosses her arms. “i’m serious.”

“yeah?” you say teasingly, smiling like she’s an idiot. “does this boyfriend have a name?”

“haesol.”

“right.”

she’s a little frustrated at the tone of your voice, plus the little look you give her. the way you pay no mind to this new information – your eyes squinting and the look of incredulity you give her – brushing it off as some stupid, laughable lie ticks a nerve in her.

you inhale deeper, then sigh out the smoke slowly.

“alright, new topic,” you suggest, handing her the cigarette, which she rejects by pushing your wrist away, to your surprise.

“why are you acting like this is some stupid joke? don’t you care?”

yes, you did care. the notion of chaeyoung being involved with a man earned a visceral reaction from you, a combination of disbelief, frustration, and disappointment. the idea honestly seemed preposterous, even laughable, but your reaction had no sign of amusement. if anything, it left a bitter taste in your mouth, worse than any cheap hangover remedy. 

“i do care.”

offering the cigarette to her again, you raise both brows expectantly as you urge her to take it. she reluctantly accepts it from in between your fingers, then holds it to her lips.

you continue, looking away from her now and towards the street, “i just don’t want some guy taking so much of your time, time we could be using to hang out. besides, i don’t know him, you never even mentioned the guy.”

as the anger subsides, chaeyoung's features soften, her expression shifting to one of understanding. in the gentle glow of the setting sun, she’s a little cuter when she looks at you like that, her usual appeal heightened by the softening light.

you glance at her and smirk before looking back at the ground, leaning against the wall of the building behind you. 

the two of you have developed a reputation for being nearly inseparable. whether it's in class or during free time, the two of you are almost always together. chaeyoung was in two of your classes, and not the tedious prerequisite classes offered, the ones that people willingly chose based on their interests: music theory and art history.

you noticed her from first glance, taking note of the pretty girl in your two classes. she was striking; tattoos littered her skin, her unconventional style, and sick piercings. yeah, definitely your type of person, she was bound to lure you. however, you didn’t chase, so instead of actively pursuing her, you opted for more subtle approaches. you'd steal glances in her direction, flash a smile whenever your eyes met, or create chance encounters like accidental bumps or brushed hands, all of which served as silent invitations for her to make the first move.

from the moment you shared your first cigarette in the streets at night – outside your now favorite bar as a way to escape the rest of your classmates – a strong connection formed. 

chaeyoung hands you the cigarette back; you inhale deeply again, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“if he’s uglier than you i won’t accept it.” you mutter, knowing you won’t because there’s no one more striking than her. 

“people are more than just looks you know.”

“that only applies to women.”  you grin. “now, let’s go get dinner. i’m hungry.”

she rolls her eyes at you and playfully pushes your shoulder before swiping the cigarette from your fingers. you chuckle at her reaction, then tilt your head, silently urging her to walk with you to a nearby restaurant down the street.

-

you shouldn’t have gone out with san and wooyoung, especially not on a thursday night because now it’s friday morning and you can still feel the hangover.

you wait on a bench at the little park on campus, the ache in your head still present even after your first class, despite gulping down a bottle of water and two advil tablets prior to it. 

chaeyoung asked to meet there, talking about some “surprise” she had. 

after waiting five minutes you finally feel your phone buzz in your hand, seeing the notification pop up on the top of the screen.

[11:28pm]

chaeyoung: i’m here

chaeyoung: to your left

you turn your head, noticing your best friend walking alongside a taller man, their hands interlocked. your stomach churns at the sight – you almost throw up in your mouth. taking a deep breath, you rise from your seat and make your way over to them, meeting them in the middle of the sidewalk.

chaeyoung had told you about him two weeks ago, even mentioning him here and there but you didn’t think you’d actually meet him, not now.

he wears a small – clearly forced – half-smile, one that you have the urge to wipe off his face. his hair is a messy, platinum blonde, with roots starting to show. a loose-fitting black tee drapes over his frame, paired with dark, baggy jeans. he’s also taller than you, maybe two or three inches taller, but not crazy tall. he's not the worst-looking guy, but you can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment.

“people are than just looks you know,” her words repeat in your head – you try to consider them.

“haesol, this is y/n. she’s my closest friend.” she says, then looks at you with sparkles in her eyes. “y/n, this is haesol, my boyfriend.”

“boyfriend, right.” you respond, tone acidic.

“you’re the best friend?”

the best friend? yeah, you’re not really fond of the way he said that. but to be fair, your tone wasn’t as nice either.

“yeah.” you force a friendlier expression after glancing over at chaeyoung, smiling at haesol now. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“same here.” 

it’s undeniably awkward, with chaeyoung by his side and your unpreparedness to face – well, him. you can’t help but glance at their locked hands, immediately looking away after it had disgusted you enough.

chaeyoung clears her throat before saying, “um, y/n, i was just wondering if you would like to get lunch with us? the two of you can get to know each other.”

a little sigh leaves your lips because really, you don’t want to know him any more than you do. but lunch with chaeyoung is something you can never pass up, especially when she’s looking at you all hopeful and shooting a little pout.

“i’m down, yeah.”

“great.” she says, “perfect.”

you and haesol make eye contact again before chaeyoung pulls him away, expecting you to follow.

-

to keep it brief, lunch was alright. it was rather quiet, unlike your usual conversations with chaeyoung, which are filled with laughter and tend to be more lively. with him there, you felt somewhat out of place, finding his stupid looks at chaeyoung irritating and the constant touchiness made you lose most your appetite.

when haesol was distracted by his phone or momentarily left the conversation, you found it easier to simply talk to chaeyoung. however, as soon as he looked back at her, you would fall silent again. 

you found his demeanor too blunt and his tendency to boast about himself irritating. his lack of attention to chaeyoung while she was speaking, instead focusing on his phone, only added to your irritation, making you scrunch your brows and send judgy looks.

“y/n, why don’t you tell him about yourself?” chaeyoung says to break the random moment of silence as you all eat. 

you blink, swallowing the rice you had been eating. “oh, like what?”

haesol seemed more focused on the food in front of him, paying little attention to the conversation. chaeyoung, on the other hand, noticed the lack of information being shared about you, which confused her. to her, you were the most interesting person in the room.

“haesol, you know y/n is in a band?”

you ‘re quick to cut her off, “it’s just a gig, not that serious. just… extra money.” you widen your eyes at her, tightening your jaw to send a little message. 

“oh, that’s cool i guess.” he says, shrugging at you. 

“she plays guitar and sings–”

“it’s just a side thing.” you say sternly. 

haesol doesn’t notice the look you give chaeyoung, too unbothered by your presence as a whole. you give him a little look before crossing your arms.

“haesol,” you begin.

he finishes chewing and swallows before humming a “ hm?”

“what do you like about my best friend?”

he pauses, thinking to himself (you would’ve answered without hesitation).

“she’s cute and every time i talk to her she listens and laughs you know. she’s hot.”

“right.” you mumble, then look over to chaeyoung, who’s smiling like an idiot. “okay.”

his phone – which had been set on the table for once – started to ring. you eye him as he picks it up, answering with a snarky tone that you hate; the urge to punch him in the face eats you up, but you manage to hold back.

you can’t do this, he’s not any of the few men you tolerate, everything about him pisses you off. you’re going to burst any moment and it’s better to let the fire die down.

“i should get going.” you suddenly speak, not caring that he’s listening to someone through the phone. “i have things to do. sorry chaeng.”

“you haven’t finished your food.” she says, furrowing her brows.

you shrug. “not hungry anymore. you two have fun.”

chaeyoung doesn’t get another word in, you’re already up and ready to go by the time she opens her mouth. haesol doesn’t bat an eye, letting you leave without questioning it.

-

from then on, whenever you and chaeyoung meet alone or with friends, the mere mention of haesol makes you feel a sense of discomfort bordering on nausea. you find yourself growing slightly distant, just enough to create a subtle but noticeable shift in your interactions, especially when haesol is brought up and acknowledged. 

so chaeyoung stops mentioning him, completely disregarding him whenever you’re near because at the end of day she just wants what you two have to be normal. at the end of the day she craves any attention you give her rather than haesol.

and things get more normal from there on out, as long as he’s not involved.

but it still lingers in her mind, you and haesol, you. 

(that’s really complicated to think about, so chaeyoung doesn’t really think on it that much.

but she really should consider why you plague her mind a little more than haesol.

a lot more.)

–

you look down at your notes, spinning the pencil in between your fingers. “the free response ones, they’re worth more points than the multiple choices, sixty percent. i think we have to apply abstract expressionism to pieces and the text, and then there’s some romanticism that we have to use. it should be relatively simple if you just bullshit it with the examples given but–”

you look up again, chaeyoungs eyes drill into your whole being. 

“what?’

she frowns. “you don’t like haesol, do you?”

“we need to study for the exam chaeng.” you grumble, followed by a sigh.

“you’re avoiding my question.”

sitting back in your seat, you look at her, frustrated. then you drop your pencil down on your notes, cursing under your breath.

“i don’t like your boyfriend, there, happy?”

“why?”

“he pisses me off.”

“did he do something to you?”

“did he need to? do i need a reason? i don’t want to waste my time talking about a man or thinking of one. can we just study?” your voice raises a bit, you’re clearly annoyed; chaeyoung decides to let it go, letting you continue on with what you were saying. “anyways, i think chapter 16 and 17 are what we need to focus on.”

chaeyoung stiffens in her seat. “yeah, okay. i have notes for that.”

“great.”

the atmosphere in the study room becomes heavy, almost suffocating for both of you. even worse is when you both sit in silence, poring over notes, the only audible sounds being the scratch of your pencil against paper as you jot down key terms, and the rhythmic tapping of chaeyoung's foot against the ground. the tension hangs thick in the air, palpable yet unspoken.

you look up again, sighing.

honestly, you feel bad (not really, it’s haesol you’re talking about. but chaeyoung? yeah, you can’t bear to see a frown on that pretty face of hers), but you can’t control how you feel about her boyfriend. about her. 

chaeyoung’s been a little crush, well, maybe little isn’t the right word. you’ve never done anything about it because there wasn’t a need to, it wasn’t clawing at you. not until now at least. 

she’s been available, single, yet you never even thought of asking her out or anything, just small advances and subtle hints to something. 

cigarettes shared in more places than you can count on one hand, letting her hold onto your waist as you drove her home on that motorcycle of yours, carrying her over to someplace safe while she’s batshit drunk, and even lending yourself to her when she needed someone to literally lean on. you let her sprawl all over you, despite hating physical touches from anyone else. 

wasn’t that enough? how dense did she have to be? or really, the question was: were your advances really enough?

and now? god, she has a whole boyfriend, it fucking kills you. the mere thought of him being in her life makes it all miserable, you can’t look at that beautiful face of hers or interact with her normally without that weird feeling in your heart, the feeling hurts you, eats you up inside. it’s all because of her boyfriend, the fact that you can’t have her, even though she deserves you instead of him.

the last thing you want is the feeling of your chest being split into two, so you avoid the thought of haesol as a whole.

(it seems to be failing, considering how often you think of chaeyoung, then of him, and now your whole heart feels like it’s being pounded by a hammer 24/7.)

you break the silence, looking up from the notes chaeyoung had passed to you. parting your lips, you don’t speak, instead, pondering, thinking of what to say. 

as you look at chaeyoung, you can't help but notice the subtle changes in her appearance. her hair is a little shorter than before, framing her face in a new way. but it's the nervous way she rubs at the tattoos on her hands that catches your attention. those tattoos, the ones that litter her hand, are familiar to you, more familiar than you'd care to admit. you’ve thought about them in too many ways, some ways you’re a little too embarrassed to admit.

“did you get a haircut?” you ask, raising a brow.

chaeyoung looks at you in surprise, the tension already sizzling down as the conversation starts. “yeah, just a little off the ends, some touch up’s on the layers.

you pause, then reach to run your hands through her hair.

“it’s cute, i like it.”

chaeyoung smiles, finding herself blushing at the sudden compliment. “thank you.”

“hey, after this, let’s grab something to eat?” she laughs, smiling at how anticipated you are. “of course.”

“let’s head over to shin’s–her bibimbap is good, cheap, and the best i’ve had.”

“okay, okay.” she snickers, grinning. “you pay.”

“yeah yeah, whatever.”

it’s these little moments that saw at the growing tension between you two, surely but slowly. 

and then the two of you laugh in between note taking again, it’s easy to ignore the elephant in the room considering how you two are; oblivious, pining a little more than both of you would like to admit, and too conflicted to even consider confrontation or communication.

as the two of you laugh in between note-taking, it's easy to fall back into the comfortable rhythm of your friendship. you both choose to ignore the elephant in the room considering how you two are—oblivious to the deeper undercurrents, secretly pining for each other more than either of you would care to admit, and too conflicted to even breach the topic of confrontation or communication. so you laugh, you joke, and you carry on, pretending that everything is just as it should be, even when it's far from it.

-

haesol turns his head. “something on your mind baby?”

gross, chaeyoung furrows her brows at the petname, weirdly enough. 

his arm is around her, hand resting on her shoulder and her head rested on his bicep. they’re watching a movie, chaeyoung blinks, responding lowly, “oh, no.”

“seems like it.” haesol says, but doesn’t pry.

you’d pry, you’d do something to make her confess her worries. haesol simply pushes her closer into him, eyes on the screen of the tv.

chaeyoung wants to push aside the strange pounding of her heart whenever she's around you. she wishes she could stop catching herself checking you out, feeling every unfamiliar flutter and pang in her heart. it's all so foreign to her, and it makes her uneasy. she doesn't like the uncertainty, the conflicted feelings swirling inside her chest, the questions without answers, everything that has to do with you. 

sometimes she even wonders what it would be like if you were in haesol’s place, like right now, watching this movie with her, with your arm under her head instead of his. maybe if she was next to you, then maybe her evening wouldn’t feel like such a waste right now.

“i think,” chaeyoung starts, “i think im going to go to sleep. i don’t feel well.”

“what? seriously?” haesol asks, there’s a hint of annoyance in his tone. “um, feel better, drink water or something. i’ll be in bed later.”

chaeyoung forces a smile, pursing her lips a little tighter than she’d like, then walks over to his room, flopping on his bed.

she checks her phone, a text from you pops up.

10:53pm

you: wyd

a small smile forms on chaeyoung’s lips.

chaeng: about to sleep

you: at ten–almost eleven, on a saturday?

you: something up?

chaeng: just not feeling it

you: are you sick? haesol is with you right? is he taking care of you?

her brows furrow; this is the first time you’ve mentioned his name. sure, it was through text, but you acknowledged him. she tucks herself into the blanket and stares at the text before responding.

chaeyoung: we were watching a movie and i felt a little tired, just went back to the room to lay down

you: right

you: you better pick up, im calling

she reads your text, and not even five seconds later feels her phone ring, looking at the contact photo of you in some stupid hat in one of those photobooth pictures, as well as your name pop up in bold on her screen. she presses the green icon, bringing the phone to her ear lazily.

“what’s up?” you ask. she hears a bit of noise in the back, it sounds like you’re at some bar, maybe outside of it, probably with some of your other friends who have a higher tolerance than her. 

“y/n, i’m just tired.”

“right.” you say calmly, she hears the faint sound of you inhaling, then a small exhale. “and that boyfriend of yours isn't taking care of you?”

“we were just watching a movie and i don’t know, i just felt… uneasy.”

“he’s giving you migraines.”

“it doesn’t work like that.”

“thinking of how easy it is to dismiss how you are, the thought of him gives me one.” you admit, “if he weren’t so dense then he’d be with you right now–who finishes a movie by themself? who lets their girlfriend feel sick–alone?”

chaeyoung groans. “why do you care so much about him now? you’re always acting like he doesn’t exist and god– are you, are you drunk?”

“no.” voice firm and stern. 

you lean against the balcony in the outside area of the bar, sighing; you’re a liar, and most definitely drunk. how could you not be after soyeon had coaxed you into those shots? on her tab too.

“why are you sulking.” you question, your voice not so far from a mumble.

"i'm not," chaeyoung is also a liar, she is sulking, her body limp against the mattress as she lays on the bed. she's still processing the events leading up to the movie: her and haesol had made out, one thing leading to another which led to them fucking–and not for the first time, maybe the fifth or sixth time, she can’t remember any of it since it was all so… anticlimactic. she's left feeling a pit in her stomach, even worse than the one after their first night of intimacy.

you can hear the bullshit in her voice, the alcohol takes over your senses and you say, “i’ll be over at the park–you know which one. be there.”

“y/n, what? wait–”

“i‘m not letting you sulk alone, stupid.”

“haesol’s going to–”

“i don’t care.” you spit, “when did i ever?”

–

–

you sit at one of the benches, a water bottle in your hand while you try to sober up. to be fair, you’re not off the walls drunk – you can still walk fine, function really well, and honestly, you’re basically fine – but drunk enough to say something a little too bold for your liking. 

the moon is up, pretty full considering it’s the end of the month. it shines down on you, down on your tired features and bothered self because of this whole new problem chaeyoung brought as soon as haesol appeared: an unsure heart.

never were you the type of person to go crazy over some crush, you never let it ruin you, but now, it’s doing just that. 

chaeyoung approaches you, catching the way your hair flows down behind you, a glimpse of your crewneck, and then you turn to the side little as if youve sensed her from behind; chaeyoung looks at you, mesmerized. 

there’s something to be said about your appearance, it’s no wonder you’ve caught many eyes, and especially now, under this glow– and maybe it’s the feeling of seeing someone, you, who doesn’t make chaeyoung uneasy – you look effortlessly wonderful, even if it’s just your side profile facing her.

you turn, smiling like you’ve just seen the rarest star after you catch chaeyoung in your line of vision.

(she’s brighter than a star, much brighter.)

turning back to stare at the lamppost in front of you, chaeyoung sits down, you feel her presence and sense her in your peripheral. then you feel yourself blush, taking in everything in front of you; you smile like an idiot, and idiot head over heels. 

“you are drunk.” chaeyoung says, “liar.”

“you lied first. it’s 1-1.” she crosses her arms, leaning away from you–she’s mad, or at least annoyed–you frown. “hey, what’s up?”

“y/n, you piss me off sometimes you know?”

“what? did i do something?”

she scoffs, looking at you in disbelief. 

“i thought we were best friends, you know? and i could tell you anything, i can tell you anything, i have told you anything. but lately? it’s like, i have to continuously avoid potholes just to keep you from being all pissy.”

you sit up, furrowing your brows in offense. “excuse me?”

“y/n don’t fucking give me that.” she says, tears welling up in her eyes. you stay put, backing down a bit and start to listen. “all i’ve wanted to do is talk about haesol, and you aren’t even willing to do that; you’re the only person i feel like i can talk to about him. and these things? they all bother me, but as soon as i open my mouth and you guess that it’s haesol? you fucking back down.”

“chaeyoung i–”

“do you know how hard it is? the one person i want to talk to and won’t even listen.” she turns away from you, letting her eyes fall to the concrete. “you’re the one person i can turn to, and honestly–it’s embarrassing to admit–but i’ve grown so attached to you, i mean, even when i’m with him; all i think about is you.”

your brain is still foggy, maybe that’s why you’re getting so emotional. the thought of you pushing her away, all because of a man–it’s selfish, so incredibly selfish the more you look on it. 

“i’m sorry.” is all you can utter, looking at her with sympathy and guilt etched on your features. “i’m sorry.”

“you should be.” she’s silent after that, still looking down at the ground while you study her every move and emotion.

she feels a shoulder graze her, then an arm extended behind her back. you push her a little close into you, just enough to make her feel better.

“i’m sorry for dragging you out here and… ignoring everything. i’ve just been really conflicted and i’d really love to tell you why, but i just… can’t.” you confess, looking down at your shoes. “you can tell me anything, always. i never want you to feel like you can’t.”

she turns her head, looking at your face illuminated by the glow of the night and the streetlamp. 

“i hate that you make it so hard to be mad at you.”

“be mad at me, it’s what i deserve.”

“i’ve tried.”

you smile, it’s a little uncertain, but it’s something to clear the air momentarily.

“what’s been going on with haesol?” you pry, it hurts to ask, but for the sake of chaeyoung; you pry.

“god y/n, there’s so much.”

“like?”

she looks at you, then around the park. it hits her that her surroundings are… not her most ideal environment to tell you about haesol, her sex life, and everything that’s been upside down; she doesn’t know where to start.

you read her mind – you always do, somehow – and pause her right where she is.

“maybe we should go to my place, i should be sobered up by then. i hope.

-

the two of you make it to your place, chaeyoung had called a cab because who knows how bad you could get. still, you’re pretty manageable, especially only a few shots. you’ve sobered up completely by the time you reached your place, finding your keys and letting both of you in.

chaeyoung catches a whiff of bourbon, cashmere, vanilla, and amber, with hints of the signature cigarette smell laced within. she makes her way to the little sliding door leading to the small balcony—the same one the two of you always go to when it's late, when you're both tired, and when there's a lot to say. it's a space filled with unspoken words and shared moments, where only each phase of the moon has heard everything you two have to say.

chaeyoung watches you trudge along and lean against the balcony next to her when you arrive. you shuffle through the pocket of your jeans for a box of cigarettes, and she notices that it's half empty. you take one out, then fish for your lighter with a floral design on it. bringing the flame up to the end of the cigarette trapped between your lips, you light it—a routine that chaeyoung could never quite get used to. and honestly, the way you handle the cigarette is hotter than it should be.

smoke leaves your mouth in small increments as you ask, “so, you and haesol?”

“oh, yeah.” chaeyoung says, almost distracted by the way you stare out into space. “we’ve, well…”

“what’s the biggest problem on your mind right now, we can start with that.”

“we– well–” and chaeyoung thinks to herself, thinking of the moments prior to being near haesol and watching that movie, ane even their first night of intimacy. she thinks of how he touched her and how it wasn’t as striking as it should’ve been, how long he lasted – which, wow, was not long – and honestly just how he pleased himself more than her. “we fucked.”

the cigarette almost slips from in between your fingers. “wait, what?”

“we’ve fucked a couple of times, i just, it wasn’t all that.”

“jesus, you’ve been through hell.” you joke lightheartedly, which earns a giggle from chaeyoung.

she takes the cigarette from you, then draws deeply from the cigarette. “it wasn’t too bad, like, i didn’t mind but, it was really–”

“disappointing? men are like that.”

“you and men.” chaeyoung scoffs, inhaling again.

“i’m serious, and being sexually frustrated is serious too.” and then you eye her–dangerously. chaeyoung tries to ignore the way you looked at her, it lasted a second but there was definitely something on your mind. she holds the cigarette to your lips, you move your head forward to catch it in between your lips, inhaling as you fix your crewneck. “you deserve better.”

“he’ll get better.” she says it almost like a manifestation, something she’ll write down on paper and put under her pillow so she’ll finally cum without instructing too much.

“you shouldn’t have to wait for someone to fuck you right.” you begin, and maybe you haven’t sobered up, because then, she widens her eyes after you say, “bet i could make you feel good.”

the world seems to come to a standstill, you lean against the balcony, your tricep resting on the metal railing, fingers holding the half-smoked cigarette as you cradle your face in the same hand. your gaze meets hers with an intensity that suggests you've just posed a question— and honestly, chaeyoung might have sulked to such a point that she's seriously considering it. that small, mischievous smile playing on your lips might just be enough to sway her decision.

“that’s cheating, i–”

“you don’t have to.” turning your head to teh side and puffing. “it was a suggestion.”

maybe chaeyoung is desperate (she most definitely is), because wow, that smirk is growing into a cocky ass grin that shows your teeth and the prominent canines and–

“are you drunk or are you serious?” chaeyoung asks you, looking you dead in the eye. 

eyeing her from the side, you respond, “you want it to be serious?”

she gulps. “no strings attached?”

“none have to be, friends with benefits is a thing, chaeyoung.”

she gulps again. “okay, yeah, sure.”

you smile, then smush the cigarette into the ashtray down on the small stool you have out, then tilt your head to urge her inside.

she follows you to the couch, sliding the door behind her before you sit down on the couch, watching her hesitantly follow. she stands in front of you and you eye her like she’s your prey.

she doesn’t question how your moral compass is fucked, especially after you’ve suggested this, knowing she’s with haesol. but she doesn’t think of whatever your morals and rights or wrongs are after she catches you unzipping your fly, sliding the little metal button out from the slit and–

you’re sliding down your jeans – baggy and a dark navy – they land at your ankle before you retreat back into a lounged position on the cushions. her eyes follow the jeans as they scrunch up at your ankles, then trail up your surprisingly toned legs, and then stop at the calvin klein underwear you have on.

you rub your hand on your thigh, sliding it down to your knee and making eye contact with her.

“c’mere.” you pat down on your skin. “you've been complaining about him and i just... wanna make you feel good for once. that alright? i kind of owe it to you for being so shitty.”

chaeyoungs breath hitches involuntarily as she looks down at you, her morals trying to win her over but god is that difficult to do when you’re so–

you’re sliding off your crewneck, it reveals a tanktop under, and of course, the various tattoos littered on your upper arms and shoulders. she bites her lip subtly.

yeah, there’s no going back on this one.

chaeyoung gives in because c’mon, this is a fantasy that’s been in the back of her mind, and her cunt is screaming louder than ever than when she’s been with haesol. honestly, her pussy whispers when she’s with him, and now it’s yelling–more than ever just seeing you sitting there on your couch, legs slightly parted as you eye her.

there’s a pretentious smirk trying to tug at your lips, but you fight against it and clench your jaw. 

she lets out a long breath before moving over to settle herself down on your thigh, the contact makes her shiver.

"there we go," you whisper softly, drinking in the sight before you. your fingertips dance along the curves of her ribs, hidden beneath the fabric of her cropped, white shirt. her breath stumbles as she tries to focus on you, or anything in the moment, really. "you’re so pretty, you know?”

instinctively, she ruts her hips against you, a soft breath escaping her lips. her skirt allows easy access, easily pushed aside to let her soaked panties glide against your skin. the fabric covering her folds adds to the tantalizing allure, fueling the urge to tease her further.

no foreplay has made chaeyoung feel this desperate for stimulus on her cunt, no one has made her feel this hot and heavy. you haven’t even undressed her yet and she’s already leaving a trail of arousal on your thigh like that. 

chaeyoung slides off the jacket she has on – haesol’s denim jacket that he gave her two days before – and throws it carelessly on the floor, not minding where it lands or what happens to it. the main event is you, all attention is on you. 

the guilt that should've been sitting in her stomach, stabbing her through the heart and holding her down went out the window as soon as your fingers landed on the edge of her skirt – but there was none of that, not when you started to tease your fingers along her skin. 

“how about this too?” you suggest, tugging at the fabric of her skirt, a sly smile gracing your lips. “tell me… you want it off?”

“yes,” she says immediately, almost like a breath. “please, fuck, yeah take it off.”

“how eager.” you snicker.

her skirt is off now, leaving her in soaked underwear and that t-shirt of hers. she’s slipping back onto your thigh, your special seat for her now. honestly, from the way she looks and feels–sounds… yeah, this spot might have to be reserved for her and only her.

the smirk on your face is smug as your eye her hips, placing both hands on them and slowly grinding her on your skin. chaeyoung, who’s not used to this extent of pleasure, moans immediately, biting her lip in embarrassment to suppress anything else that manages to slip out.

you can’t help but laugh under your breath, amused by how pleased she is. you kind of feel bad – if she feels this good from just grinding, how bad is that dick of her boyfriend’s? you pity the girl, so as her best friend, you have to give her what she’s missing.

she’s moving her hips on her own now, scooting up closer to you so she can plant her hands on your shoulders, making it easier to fuck herself on your skin. your groans are low, almost airy here and there while you watch, occasionally helping her out by pressing up against her. 

you can tell she’s doing everything she can to hide the sounds she’s making, desperately biting back moans that you want to hear. you’re not going to let her stay quiet, not when she sounds so pretty all because of you. all for you.

sliding your hand up, you press your thumb on her bottom lip, allowing her plea’s to be heard as you forcefully part her lips, your grip on her jaw almost deathly.

“f-fuck y/n, w-wait.”

the grip on your shoulder tightens, making you groan yourself. she looks down at where her clad cunt meets your skin again, scrunching her brows hard as she desperately ruts against you. 

her voice swells the more she rubs against you, the sounds coming out her mouth reverberating like a symphony building to its crescendo. aggressively, you grab her hips again, shifting her down roughly against your thigh. she throws her head back, mouth widening as a loud, shaky moan escapes. then, like a symphony's final movement, everything harmonizes. 

the sound of your name being cried out when she cums resonates, lingering in our ears, a perfect harmony that captivates you, making you smile. she throws her head down on your shoulder, muttering your name over and over while her hands desperately claw against your shoulder, tricep, skin – against anything.

she’s still moving against you, but slower now, trying to ease herself back down from cumming for the first time in a while. even when she did cum that one time from haesol, it has never left her as shaken up or satiated as this.

your hands stabilize her by the hips as she pulls away, her face inches away from yours. you manage to get a glimpse of her underwear – completely wet, like a tidal wave had crashed against it – smile to yourself, pleased.

“how was that?” you ask, “seemed good.” your voice is low, speaking from the throat as you soften your tone.

“s-shut, “ she starts, then presses her lips against yours, making you hum surprisingly. “up.”

it feels right, so fucking right despite how morally wrong it is. 

she’s basically on your hip now, mindlessly grinding in your lap as she kisses you. it’s slow, sensual, and so goddamn intimate considering this is the first time you’ve done anything remotely… romantic? anything that really crossed the line of “friendship.”

then you’re sliding your tongue against the space in between her lips, earning access to her mouth as you slide your tongue in, exploring her like she’s some eighth wonder of the world. she moans into the kiss, it’s muffled, but it’s great. more than great–amazing.. you kiss and kiss like there’s no tomorrow, fighting for air by the time your lips’ part. and now it’s your time to admire your mess: tangled dark hair framing chaeyoung’s face, her puffy lips and flushed cheeks, and those lidded eyes. 

your lips move to her neck, making her grip at you as soon as you make contact with her skin again. you’re like a fucking drug to her, she’s getting high just from this small dose of you and she might just get addicted after knowing how the high is. this might just be worse than her smoking habits, but if it’s you? she doesn’t give a fuck.

“y/n, fuck wait,” chaeyoung sighs, getting up to slider her underwear off and throwing it to the side. “again, please.”  

you laugh, more than happy to comply. “of course, as much as you want.”

the rest of the night is filled with chaeyoung’s moans, your soft voice coaxing her as she stimulates herself, and the last thing on either of your minds is haesol, because that’s a worry for later.

she cums again a few minutes later – surprisingly fast, but just as good, and you’re not judging her either way. poor girl. she goes a little limp after that, resting against you, still in your lap, and letting her head settle on your shoulder while you rub her back.

“you gonna stay the night?” you ask her, feeling her breath against your neck. “because you can.”

chaeyoung pauses, she doesn’t answer. 

she pulls away from you, then gazes at your face. you look back at her, not really expecting anything, just looking at her. chaeyoung breathes out, then places a hand on your neck before she kisses you.

she whispers against your lips, “i’ll think about it.” 

–

the next morning chaeyoung is still on your couch, a blanket trapped between her legs while most of it is on the floor. the scent of coffee being brewed fills the air. 

she rises from the couch, running her hands over her face with a sigh before tending to her tousled hair. she’s not wearing anything, she’s completely bare. as she turns, she notices your back turned to her, engrossed in pouring a cup of coffee. you’re only wearing a sports bra on top and low-rise jeans lazily wrap around your waist, revealing your underwear.

 the sound of your yawn reaches her ears, and then you turn around with a cup in your hands, holding it to your lips. you both make eye contact.

the silencing squeezes you two, squishing your skin and almost breaking your bones. chaeyoung looks away first.

“you’re awake.” 

she’s not looking at you, instead looking around for the shirt you’d taken off before making her cum the second time around, finding it on the edge of the couch.

“yeah.” chaeyoung responds quietly, “i have to go.”

there it is, you expected this, but it still disappoints you a little, even if you assured that it was “no strings attached.”

“do you need a ride?”

“i can text haesol.”

your jaw tenses. 

she has a boyfriend, right, haesol. chaeyoung has a boyfriend who seems more attached to his phone than to her, failing to truly listen to her. he overlooks the qualities that you find captivating, a boyfriend who... well, is just a man. you try to convince yourself that you've forgotten, but deep down, you know you never really did. if anything, knowing that you can, scratch that, you did make her feel better than her boyfriend boosts your ego, even if just a little. 

you should feel guilty, like you’ve just committed a terrible crime and someone is waiting outside with handcuffs ready to put you behind bars but– you don’t feel any of that, honest to god you dont give a fuck about that. you made chaeyoung feel good, great, fucked her with your thigh, and honestly that’s enough to completely push guilt out your body.

she’s fully dressed again after putting on the jacket that was across the living room on the floor. she looks walks over to you, stealing a quick glance to the tattoo on your ribs and the little one above your waist.

"i can’t believe i did this," she mumbles quietly to herself. then, she looks up at you, gulping. “we need to keep this a secret, okay?”

“i know, i figured.” you respond bitterly, even though it was you who started it in the first place. “so what's next? you're still going to go back to him? are we just going to fuck and forget?"

chaeyoung winces, feeling the pang of regret and uncertainty. 

she’s undoubtedly whipped, she can’t go back to haesol like everything’s fine. she didn’t answer his texts, his calls–anything. and despite how negligent he is–and also the fact that he’ll never make her feel the same way as you did – chaeyoung wants to go back to him, he’s her boyfriend after all. she already left him last night with no explanation, the least she can do is go back. but everything in her heart and head is telling her to stay here with you.

“i just… need time to think about it, y/n.”

you narrow your eyes at her as you sip on your coffee. “right.”

chaeyoung approaches you, frustration etched on her face. your demeanor is elusive, she hates how difficult you are to read. it’s hard to decipher whether you're angry, disappointed, or both. as you search for your phone, turning back around, she feels her shoulders sag with disappointment, her steps heavy as she reluctantly heads towards the door.

“i really thought you’d finally open your eyes, but i guess i was wrong.” you finally say, hearing a pause of silence before you hear the door open. 

a few seconds pass before you hear it close. chaeyoung’s gone.

[clourey]

“satoru,”

ouch.

“i prefer the way you said my name yesterday, you know!” satoru feigns hurt, clutching his chest dramatically— eliciting an eye-roll from you.

how did you say his name yesterday? you can’t recall, it wasn’t important. satoru, conversely, remembers in perfect detail the enunciation that caused his heart to throb.

each syllable of his name, spoken so tenderly, and paired with a timbre that conveyed feelings of worry.

“whatever— how’s your bruise?”

satoru’s eyes momentarily flickered with mischief, seizing his opportunity, “you mean the bruise you left on my heart?”

“you.. dumbass.” you irked, heaving a heavy sigh, whilst satoru’s form began to stutter with his familiar mirth.

“you’re incredibly annoying,” you remark to no avail, as the tittering evolved into full-blown husky laughter.

the sounds reverberated through your chest like the gentle buzzing of a bee, warm and fuzzy, unlike any other, for reasons you couldn’t quite tell. it remedied the exasperation and utter frustration that often came with being satoru’s friend— he created a problem and sold the solution, what an asshole.

“satoru, please.”

it isn’t until you cross your arms that satoru decides he’s had enough amusement, “gee, sorry! you just know my jokes are funny.”

“the characteristics of a funny joke is that other people also find it funny, yet here we are.” you flick his forehead, earning yourself a stagy whine. one that could land another bruise on his face, honestly.

alas, you were too deeply absorbed in concern to physically hurt him, so you instead settle for an injury to his sentiments, and his passion for horrible jokes (hopefully).

“come on, look up.” you instruct, and it would be a lie to say that you didn’t shudder at the way satoru complied so naturally— like it was instinct. to add fuel to the fire, his hands snaked around your waist, pulling you close enough that you were forced to prop your knee between his legs. if you didn’t want to lose balance and topple onto the couch (and potentially satoru too), that is.

you carefully peel the bandage off of his skin, your thumb grazing over the purple bruise that adorned his cheek. he closes his eyes, your touch almost lulling him to sleep.

yes, adorned. this man never fails to look beautiful, as much as you despised the fact.

“are the hands necessary?” you mumble to yourself, as you apply ointment on satoru’s face. unfortunately for you, your voice is never gone unheard by satoru, no matter how hard you try.

he replies with a hum, startling you.

“i was serious when i said you bruised my heart, by the way.”

his words cause you to nearly tumble, exacerbating your struggle to stretch your body to reach the fresh gauze that laid on the other end of the couch.

he’s holding me so tight, and that he was. his hands had planted themselves on your hips, rendering you unable to shift positions.

“and—” you pant, relieved when your digits finally grasp the gauze, “when did that happen?”

he reopens his eyes, “a month ago. the party at shoko’s.”

your hands come to an abrupt halt, recounting the events satoru was referring too. his pupils, meanwhile, trace intangible lines across every feature on your visage, as if he wouldn’t ever see them again.

“you were drunk, satoru.” you resume dressing his injury, “we all know you actively avoid drinking because you say dumb shit you don’t even mean when you’re drunk, among other reasons.”

“i’ll have you know i did mean it when i said i hate kids.”

your brows raise in amusement, “and that’s why you intentionally let yuji land a hit on you?”

“i only wanted to gauge yuji’s improvements, plus you were so worried about me. i mean come on, you’re here right now, so win-win, yeah?”

you chuckle— risible truly is an adjective perfectly fit for satoru.

“whatever floats your boat, and..” you helplessly try to swat his arms off you (were you even trying? you don’t know, perhaps you wanted to stay with him longer), “let me go now, you’re all patched up.”

“nuh-uh! i’m not done talking.”

you know you’ve lost the fight before it even started. satoru would let you go if that’s what your body told him, but of course he noticed the subtle way in which your frame leaned into his touch. nothing gets past this him, really.

“make it quick—”

“i meant it when i said i like you,” his grip around you loosens, “that quick enough for you?”

“too..” you’re scared you’ll stutter, “too quick, i think.”

it was, once again, his turn to laugh. although there was nothing happy about it, nothing that warm and fuzzy.

satoru can read your expressions. what he perceives doesn’t please him, but loss was a constant in his life, so why would he expect anything else? stupid man.

“i’m.. not sure what to say.”

strange, your sentence felt empty. you intended to say his name; why didn’t you? were you hesitating?

or, perhaps satoru stole the alphabets of his name from your mouth and swallowed it, so he wouldn’t have to hear it from you— but he’s choking on the letters now. the back of his throat hurts, it stings and wells tears on his waterline.

for a fleeting moment, he wants so badly to take back the revelation he had made to you. yet he fails to, because the truth will always be there for you to realise. he knows it.

his words are just one of the many mediums through which he has expressed his affection for you. flowers, touches, time— you name it, and he’s given it all.

“i’ve gotta go.” you hurry, without knowing why.

and satoru? he doesn’t dare to look at you. instead, his gaze settles on the remaining gauze.

he wonders, could it be of any use to a heart, that is bruised and beaten?

[idontplaytrack]

How much do you want to bet?

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader(+ big sister Regina)

Warnings: angst, fluff, sick fic, coarse language, slight descriptions + mentions of vomiting & sickness, angry Regina

Regina calls Janis for help late at night due to an inconsolable reader who was sick and miserable

Other parts: One / two / three

(Photos used are from Pinterest & Auli’i’s TikTok[deleted])

Regina was alone. Again and with you. Except this time, you were sick. You’ve caught a stomach bug and were feeling absolutely awful. It was a little after nine-thirty at night. Regina’s tried every remedy she knew to help you eat something or get some fluids into your system but they never stayed long enough before you regurgitated them. Helpless, she gave up on her ways and let you just sit there in your bed. You were terrified of laying down because of the possibility that you would throw up again and end up making a mess if you didn’t get to the bathroom in time. Or the trash can on your floor for that matter.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Regina carefully rests her palm on your stomach underneath the thin fabric of your shirt, hoping the warmth provides you with some relief. You just look at her, unable to speak for fear of bursting into tears for the second time that night. Regina sighs softly, heart breaking at this pitiful sight.

“It’s going around in school.” You croaked after a few minutes.

“I know, that sucks.” Regina says, “Do you want me to go get you a heat pack, so we can put it on your stomach? It’ll probably work better than my hand.”

You shook your head no, shifting uncomfortably, “Where’s Mom?”

June was…off in Florida, to avoid her life right here in Chigaco. And at the worst time possible.

You chewed your lower lip, it was quivering, “I want Mommy, Reg.”

“She’s not answering her calls, baby. I’m sorry, but I’ll keep trying, okay?”

To Regina’s surprise, you managed to nod off while she stepped outside to make a particular phone call. First, she tried to dial June’s number again just like she’d promised you she would. But this time, her phone wasn’t even on. She definitely did this on purpose, turning her phone off. Regina hesitated, but was at her wit’s ends: she phoned Janis.

“Janis, are you free right now?”

“Yes…” Janis answered warily, “Why?”

“y/n’s sick and in pain and crying for Mom but she’s MIA somewhere in Florida — her phone’s off so I was wondering if you could—”

“What?” Janis shrieked, “My God, I’m on my way.”

“Drive s—” Before Regina could respond properly, Janis hung up the call and was rushing here.

Regina stood in the doorway of your room, leaning against the wooden frame and watching you sleep. She stayed there the whole time until Janis pulled up twenty minutes later. Regina lets her in. “Could you keep an eye on her for a minute? I’m gonna go use the restroom.”

“Of course.” Janis agrees, taking two steps at a time up the flights of stairs while Regina went ahead to the bathroom.

“Still can’t contact your mom?” Janis asks quietly when she saw Regina coming upstairs.

“Nope.” Regina sighs. “I’ve never seen her this upset, I hate seeing her like that.”

“How long has she been asleep?”

“Oh, thirty minutes I think. Probably the most she’s slept at a time all day.” Regina answers, arms crossed.

“Still no water intake?”

“Not since right before this whole thing started.” Regina confirms, “That cold glass of water went in and came back out warm.” Regina shuddered. “Should we take her to the hospital? Get an IV or something?”

Janis chuckles dryly, “I…think we let her try something in a solid form. Popsicle or ice cubes. She would definitely start crying again if we bring up the hospital. Usually, it’s just a 24 hour bug so let’s pay attention and hope for the best.”

“Good luck— she didn’t want any of it.” Regina sighs exasperatedly. “Work your magic, maybe she’ll listen to you instead of me.”

“Go to bed.”

“And leave you alone for the next six to seven hours? ‘Imi’ike, I’m not heartless.”

“Well…” Janis joked.

“Fair.” Regina smirked. “You wanna eat anything, help yourself. I have a very angry text to send to my mother.”

“I’m good, thanks though.” Janis replies, sitting down casually by your door and went on her phone.

“Are you feeling like you’d be getting sick soon?”

“No, I really don’t think so. I’ve been very careful about washing my hands and not touching my face when I saw those people at school getting sick. I also have a way stronger immune system, luckily. How are you feeling?”

Regina’s eyebrows were raised in shock, but she masked that pretty well as her usual smirk after. “I feel fine, I usually don’t get sick either. But if the heavens want to torment me, they can feel free to do so after y/n recovers.”

“Knock on wood, Regina. Be careful what you wish for.” Janis warned. “Is Cady okay?”

“Yeah, the rest of the gang seems alright too. She’s the first one in our circle to get it.”

————

“Reg?” You said quietly. “Regina, I need—”

You quickly heard footsteps approaching your room but not of someone you expected. “Hey, you’re awake.” Janis smiled at you, “What do you need?”

You kicked off the blanket, slowly getting your legs off the bed. “Uh— why are you— why are you here?”

“Regina called me.”

“For what? I—”

“Don’t fight it.” Janis looked at you, “Let us take care of you.”

“I don’t want to get you sick too.”

“I don’t get sick, I’ll be fine.” Janis spoke in a tone that immediately shut you up. That and the fact that you were feeling like utter crap. “What do you need?”

“The bathroom.” You stood up unsteadily. Janis put her arm around you to give you the support you needed to make your way there. “Now, how are you feeling?”

“Stomach hurts. I’m not that nauseous anymore. Very thirsty but I’m scared I can’t keep it down.” You answered, slightly irritated. She feels your forehead, “Did she give you fever meds?”

“Not after I couldn’t even keep water down.” You spoke. Then before she could even say a word, “Scratch that, gotta puke.” You made u-turn for the bathroom again and barely made it to the toilet to spill the contents of your stomach.

Janis seethed, “I’m sorry, honey.” She rubs your back and made sure your hair didn’t get in the way.

Meanwhile downstairs, Regina was going batshit crazy. “Fuck!” You groaned, finally feeling okay enough to back away and sit down. “Can you go check on—”

“I’m not gonna leave you here alone.” Janis crouched down and then sat next to you.

“God I’m so tired.” You mumbled, on the verge of tears.

“I might have something for you that could help.” Janis held your face, “It’s in my car, I’ll go get it.”

She scurries away to go get whatever it was. You dragged yourself back to your bed, staring at the bottle of water on your nightstand, tempted.

As you attempted a sip of it, Janis returns with a little snack container. “My Dad buys this sometimes when he goes back home, he says it helps with a bunch of stuff including nausea, so, here— take this and just leave it in your mouth and let it sit.”

You took the li hing mui from her and just popped it into your mouth. You recognised it, she always had this with her and she was always snacking on it. “I’ll keep the rest of it right here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Did you try some water?”

“Like, a sip.” You told her, voice muffled due to what you had in your mouth. Regina shows up in your room next, “You couldn’t get her on the phone?”

“No.” Regina shook her head, sad. Like, actually sad. “How’re you feeling?”

“I threw up again, but what she gave me helps.” You shrug, leaning back against the headboard. “What time is it?”

“A little after midnight.” Regina answers. Janis settles down next to you. “Go to sleep, Reg. Forget I even asked about mom, there’s no point anymore— she doesn’t care about me.”

Regina’s face fell, she hated that she couldn’t get Mom on the phone for you. She hated that she couldn’t deliver her promise.

“Can you try drinking a little more water, baby? Please? Keep that in your mouth and just drink, be careful though.” Regina hands you a new bottle of water.

You complied, wanting nothing more than quenching the thirst now. But still, you took only cautious sips to make sure you didn’t make things worse for yourself. After finishing about half the bottle you set it down and made sure the plum in your mouth was entirely dissolved before you allowed yourself to sleep. Even then, you could feel Janis and your sister watching you like hawks. You couldn’t take the feeling of having eyes on you so you shot back up and told them, “Don’t keep looking at me.” It came out in a whine though— you couldn’t exactly control that.

“Okay, I’ll be in my room, alright? Do you have everything you need?” Regina asks, ‘Minus Mom.’ She thought to herself.

“Yeah. Good night.” You replied dismissively, however while Regina leaves the room like you’d asked, Janis did not budge.

“Nice try, I’m not leaving ya.” Janis smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, of her own accord, she dipped a rag in a bucket of water and put that on your forehead after wringing it dry. You were not happy about it.

“Get away from me, I don’t want you getting sick.”

Janis sighs quietly but doesn’t say anything about that statement of yours. “Close your eyes.”

You did so, cuddling with that carnival prize she won for you.

“Attagirl.” She smiled, relieved that you seemed significantly better at the moment. “G’night. Wake me up if you need anything, okay?”

“M’kay.” You mumbled then drifted off to sleep.

————

You woke up one time that night thanks to a sudden pang of insane nausea that had you clinging to the toilet but nothing came out of you since your stomach was practically empty.

“Don’t cry, honey.” Janis rubs your back attempting to soothe you.

“I feel like shit.” You sniffled, “Why am I so nauseous if I have nothing left in me?!”

“You wanna get back into bed?”

“Yes.” You looked up at her, absolutely tired of this night.

“Okay, c’mon.” Janis helped you up and back to bed. “I got you, honey. You’re okay.”

She sits with you till you fell asleep.

In the morning, you were alone in your room. But you did feel more…like yourself. You washed up and headed downstairs to locate your sister and Janis. “Hey.” Regina spotted you almost immediately. “You seem like you’re feeling better.”

“My stomach’s not hurting anymore, but I’m still having a fever.” You shrug.

“Take an Advil.” Regina hands you the bottle, “I’m making you some soup.”

“Where’s Jan—”

“Shower.”

“Okay.” You sat at the kitchen island and slowly dipped on your glass of water for awhile before you swallows the pill.

“You wanna take a shower?” Regina asks, “She could help you with that.”

“Oh, no, no. I’ll do that on my own.” You gasped, horrified by the idea of Janis seeing you that way.

Regina laughs, “Okay, but only if you’re sure you’re not gonna pass out or something.”

“I’ll be okay.” You exhaled harshly. “Hey, Reg?”

“Yeah?”

“How— how out of it was I?” You asked.

“Eh…not too bad.” Regina says. “Cried a little bit but I get that. You were always like that when you’re not feeling well.”

“Good god.” You groaned, “I’m sorry.”

Regina squinted, “Don’t apologise for that. You were going through a lot lotta crap last night. How’s the pill doing?”

“It’s…fine. Staying in my system this time.”

She chuckles, “Good.”

“Are you good? Do you feel sick?” You ask.

“Nope. We’ve been very careful: disinfecting everything regularly. After tonight, I’m deep cleaning your room: changing your sheets, wiping down everything, cleaning your bathroom. The works.”

“Okay—”

“Hey!” You heard Janis’ voice, “You’re up.”

“Hi.” You turned your head to look at her.

“Here, eat up.” Regina pushes a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you.

“Thanks, Reg.”

Well, everything was as good as it could get now. You were glad you were finally out of the worst part of it.

“I think you’ll be good to go back to school Monday.” Regina says.

“Yeah.” You agreed, “I think so too—”

The doorbell rings. “Open up, it’s Mom!”

“Oh, boy.” Janis grumbled.

You nearly choked on your soup and just abandoned your spoon as it clanked against the bowl. You glared at Regina, mouthing, “Why?”

“Because apparently she doesn’t have keys anymore.” Regina scoffs, flouncing toward the door. “What?”

“Well I thought I should come back and take care of—”

“Don’t even. You should’ve picked up as soon as I called you. You’ve got no excuse not to answer.” Regina lets go of the door, walking back into the foyer. June pushed her way into the house.

“Well I’m sorry but things have been really rough.”

“Rough? Rough was me having to work to make sure we don’t just have barely enough to pay to keep the lights on, to eat.”

“I send you the money for bills.”

“What—” Regina scoffs. “Rough was last night when I saw her so pale and throwing up and sobbing for you. She was crying for you to be there for her. To hold her and tell her things are going to be okay. Money isn’t everything, Mom. So the divorce was hard, do you think it only affected you? I may be your oldest daughter and capable to earn some money to make sure we don’t use up all of what you gave for bills. Surprise — she needs you and so do I. Now, more than we ever did. It was supposed to be the three of us against our problems. Not me and her against you and our problems.”

“Why is Janis here?”

“Why is that your first question?” You spoke up, “Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I’m sorry—”

“How much are you willing to bet that if I called your phone right now, it’s going to ring?” Regina glared at June then was dialling said phone number. “I knew it. You avoided us on purpose. Forget it, Mom. Go, go travel all over the country trying to avoid everything instead of caring for your kids who need you. Next time you’re back here, you won’t see us anymore. I found me and y/n a place away from here, we’ll move out soon. This place? There’s no use holding onto it. So, go have fun. Let the kids worry about life.”

“Well I’m here now.”

“After a whole year? You don’t look very willing to me. Be honest— you want to turn and leave. Look at yourself in the mirror. He’s not worth your time and energy, Mom.”

“Don’t come crawling back when your actions have already made it clear as day that you do not care anymore. You’re the grown up, why are we always left alone, always ignored by you?” You walked closer. “Why couldn’t we have gotten through this together? I don’t know how to trust you anymore, Mommy.”

“Baby, let’s take some deep breaths and calm down, okay?” Janis puts her hands on your shoulders, “I don’t want you to get too agitated right now.”

“Baby?” June’s eyes went so wide they might as well have popped out of her head right then and there, “Last I heard you two hated each other’s guts. Now what, suddenly she’s kissing your sister?”

“She stepped up when you couldn’t last night. No questions asked: held her hair back, rubbed her back, rubbed her stomach, held her close, fed her water, took care of her. Zero hesitation. We tried your phone for hours and you didn’t even bother responding with a text.” Regina growled. “That tells me everything I need to know. She’s a good person, and you, you have some work to do. And you better do it fast, pull your shit together, see a therapist, whatever. Life is tough, but if you’re going to wallow in self-pity, you’re not going to get anywhere.”

Janis led you upstairs, not wanting you to stay in that environment any longer. “I wanna take a shower, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course it is.” Janis chuckles lightly, “Do you want me to help you?”

“I think I’ll be fine. I just wanted to make sure someone knew I was in the shower in case, you know?”

“Mm, yeah.” Janis nods, brushing the slightly sweaty hair out of your face so she could see it better, “You go ahead, I’ll get you your clothes and your towel, hm?”

“Kay.” You agreed, finding the energy to smile back after hours and hours. But hearing the yelling still ongoing downstairs, you flinched when a voice got particularly loud.

“You’re okay. I’m right here, baby. Just focus on your shower, nothing else. I’ll be right here with you. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, taking in a deep breath, “Thanks, Janis.”

“No problem, honey.” She squished your cheek gently, making you laugh. Then you got up and went into the bathrooms while she remained in your room.

Luckily, when you got out, the yelling had stopped. So you could relax again.

“You good?” Janis studied you. “Better, yeah.” You confirmed, quickly going to sit down on your bed.

“That’s good.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yes.” Janis assured, “I swear. If I’m ever sick, you will know because I will look as pale as a ghost.”

You giggled, “Alright. Thanks for coming over even though it was so late last night.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Janis grins, “One call or text, I’m here immediately.”

“Wait— you changed my sheets?” You realised.

“And we disinfected everything.” Regina appeared.

“Oh.” You jumped, startled.

Regina stifles a laugh, “Sorry. Anyway, Mom won’t be back until we’ve moved out. So you don’t have to worry about her coming over and me yelling at her.”

“You really found a place for us?” You asked.

“Sure did.” She confirmed, “It’s a lot smaller than here of course, but plenty of room for the two of us. With my savings and the fact that I’m working, we’re gonna do perfectly fine. Oh, and Cady’s gonna move in with us too. So Janis, you’re definitely allowed to come and go as you please, but if you want to move in too, the four of us, well technically three of us can share all the expenses. It’ll probably be an easier load this way.”

“How many bedrooms is that?” Janis asks.

“Two bedrooms. One bathroom’s connected to a room the other’s in the hall. You two could definitely share a room then I’ll do the same with Cady. I saw the place and it’s pretty spacious.”

“Tempting. But I probably won’t, I’ll definitely be there a lot though, obviously.” She says, gesturing to you.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Regina smirked. “Anyway…I’m glad you’re feeling better. Are you hungry yet?”

“Actually, yeah. I am.”

“That’s a great sign.” Regina’s face lit up, “I’ll go prepare some rice and soup. Start light, okay? We’ll move on to other stuff tomorrow depending on how you feel after this meal.”

You sulked.

“Come on, just…take it easy on your stomach right now, baby.” Regina couldn’t help but crack a smile, “I’m willing to bet it’s still sore.”

“Yeah…” You answered, head slowly leaning on Janis’ shoulder.

“I’ll be downstairs, you two just do whatever you want. Yell for me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.” You sigh falls from your lips, “Thanks, Reg.”

“You’re so welcome, baby.”

Janis chuckles to herself, her arm winded around your waist gingerly, “Still sleepy, babe?”

“No.” You muttered.

“Are you sure?” She teased, “Lunch is gonna take her thirty minute at least.”

Your lips tug into a crooked smile as you snuggled closer to her. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure, y/n.” She says while rubbing your back, “Are you gonna let me get up to go grab the remote or do I have to carry you with me?”

You laughed, hiding your face in her chest for a second, “I’ll move.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭A/N:

This one got way longer than I expected it to, but I wanted to show Regina and Janis getting along, and of course, June(finally)

I’ll be ending this mini serie in the next part of two. :’)

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Twisted Fate: Cazador X Reader

Chapter 6

Mentions: She/Her, Slow burn Word Count: 3.4k

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Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Did you really expect the wizard to pull a cure out of his hat?” She gave a small shrug, playfully nudging his arm as her sarcasm lingered in the air. “Maybe he’ll surprise us later.”

Cazador scoffed, his pace unwavering. “I doubt it. His ‘friend’ in the distant village is probably another crackpot with an ‘ancient remedy.’” He glanced down over his shoulder, catching her playful nudge with a raised brow and a smirk. “I suppose we could try ‘charming’ him out of an answer.”

“Oh, please. You’re the last person I’d trust with charm,” she retorted, crossing her arms as they continued walking. “You’d probably scare the poor old man into a coma.” She said, laughing at her own joke.

“Charming as ever, Y/N,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes. “What’s your brilliant plan, then? Go ask the castle walls for answers?” Cazador’s voice was sharp, the usual mockery laced with a playful edge.

Y/N shot him a goofy grin. “Well, they have been helpful in the past. You should try listening to them sometime.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’ve always had an affinity for the impossible, haven’t you?” He paused, then added in a tone that was more pointed than teasing, “I don’t trust any wizard from a village who’s more popular than practical.”

Y/N’s chuckle was light, but she didn’t back down. “At least this time, we actually have something to go on. I’m feeling hopeful. Imagine that.”

He gave her a quick glance, his lips curling into something like amusement, but his eyes were hard, calculating. “Feeling hopeful won’t get us anywhere. And it certainly won’t help us find a solution.”

Y/N gave him a playful look raising her eyebrows. “I’ll take my chances.”

Cazador turned on her then, his usual smirk replaced by a serious, almost cold expression. “Enough games. When we return, we’re mapping out a proper plan—one that’s efficient and effective. You’ll stay out of trouble, and I’ll handle the details. Understood?”

Y/N met his gaze, something about his shift in demeanor piquing her curiosity. “Is that your way of saying you’re in charge again?” she teased.

“I never stopped being in charge,” he replied quickly, voice dropping to a tone that brokered no argument. “You might think you have a handle on things, but I won’t let you go rushing off to the next fool’s errand. We need a proper strategy.”

Y/N smiles, but the teasing edge in her tone softens. “Alright, big boy, take it easy,” she says, raising her hands in mock surrender. She pauses, taking a breath. “But I’ll warn you—I’m not letting you make all the decisions.”

Cazador’s expression tightens, his eyes narrowing at the nickname. “Big boy, huh?” His voice is laced with irritation, but there’s a flicker of something else behind his sharp gaze—something like curiosity.

“Damn, we really just gossiped all the way here, huh?” she jokes, standing beside Cazador as he opens the castle door. He hides a smile, stepping aside to let her through. “Follow me,” he says, gesturing toward the library.

As they stepped back into the castle, the cold, stone walls swallowed the sound of their footsteps. The air of the library greeted them again, familiar and almost comforting.

Cazador didn’t waste a moment, striding to the large table at the centre of the room and unrolling on of his manny maps with a practiced hand.

Y/N followed, eyes flicking to the map before, only now realizing how large his hands were. What an interesting sight.

“Alright,” she said, stretching slightly. “Let’s make this quick. You know I’m the better thief here. I know the routes. I can scout ahead and get us in and out of Baldur’s Gate without anyone noticing.” She paused, glancing at him. “Unless you have a different approach in mind?”

Cazador gave her a look, his brow lifting ever so slightly. “Better thief?” He chuckled darkly, but there was no humor in it. “You sweet idiot, you may have your skills, but I know how to navigate the lands, how to get information, and how to get to Baldur’s Gate without attracting the wrong attention.” He tapped a finger on the map, eyes focused.

“Details, details,” Y/N quipped, leaning back in her chair. “I’m just saying—less time in the wild, less chance of something going wrong.”

Cazador’s sharp eyes flicked down to meet hers, annoyance edging his features. “I know what you’re thinking, Y/N. But this isn’t some stealth mission we’re planning. We’re simply getting to Baldur’s Gate to see a wizard. No need to complicate it with your ‘wild plans.’ We’re taking the most direct route with the least amount of unnecessary exposure.”

She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand, cutting her off.

“No,” he said flatly, his voice commanding. “We’ll avoid the longer routes and the forests. They’ll slow us down. I’m planning a route with stops at inns and villages along the way—places where we can rest, gather supplies, and plan the next leg of the journey.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak, watching him as he traced a path along the map. He was already outlining the quickest route, the one that passed through small villages where they could stay the night.

“The inns will be a welcome break,” Cazador continued, his finger landing on a village about halfway to Baldur's Gate. “We won’t waste time camping in the woods. We’ll stay in proper beds, restock, and get information from the locals.”

She leaned forward, pointing at a different route. “But this path—if we take the western trail—it’s faster and it’ll have fewer people. We could move quicker and get to the goal faster.”

Cazador gave her an icy look, his tone sharp. “No. The western route is too risky. We’ll pass through isolated towns where help won’t be nearby if we need it. It’s not worth the gamble. We’ll follow this one, where there are plenty of villages along the way. We’ll arrive in Baldur’s Gate with plenty of time to meet with the wizard, and we won’t have to worry about unexpected delays.”

Y/N crossed her arms, giving him a teasing smile. “You really hate letting me have a say, don’t you?”

His lips tightened into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m letting you have a say,” he said flatly, “but it’s my plan. You’ll stick to it.”

Y/N sighed but held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But don’t be surprised if I point out when you’re wrong.”

Cazador’s face was unreadable as he rolled up the map, his gaze moving toward the door. “We’ll leave at first light. No time to waste.”

Y/N stood, stretching out her arms. “Fine, but I’m getting my rest while I can. After all, you’ll need someone sharp when we hit Baldur’s Gate.”

He gave her a short, sharp glance, but didn’t comment. “Go pack. No unnecessary delays, you better be ready I shouldn’t have to wake you. Tomorrow we leave early.”

Y/N hesitated, watching him as he paced around the library picking up a few essentials himself.

“Um, Cazador...” she began, a small, teasing smirk tugging at her lips. “I don’t really have any essentials. All my things are back at home... remember?”

Cazador’s sharp gaze flicked up to her, his expression unreadable for a moment before a sigh slipped past his lips. “Of course, little thief,” he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. “How typical. I’m not surprised, considering your... previous attempts.”

Before she could respond, he turned toward the door, calling for a servant. “Get some clothes for her. Essentials. The works. And dinner—prepare something decent.” His voice staying sharp as he gave his commands.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Wow…” Her voice trailed off as she took in his sudden shift, her mind racing with confusion and curiosity.

Cazador didn’t look back at her as he strode out, his voice sharp. “I’m handling it. You can shower and wait in your room until supper. We’ll leave in the morning. There’s no need to argue.”

Y/N stared at him, her eyes softening, amusement dancing at the corners of her lips. She didn’t respond immediately, taking in the contrast between his rigid control and the way he was clearly trying to manage everything for her. There was something oddly endearing about it.

Cazador suddenly stopped, his gaze snapping back to her, a cold edge creeping into his voice. “What?”

Y/N pauses, staring at him for a moment. She opens her mouth, then closes it again, the words caught somewhere between thought and silence. Finally, she softens and simply says nothing.

His sharp, cold gaze lingered on her, as if searching for the truth of her thoughts, before he turned away without a word.

Y/N walked down the hallway, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she made her way back to her room. A strange warmth settled in her chest, something unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome. She let the feeling linger for a moment before pushing it aside, not used to such things. She told herself that Cazador was selfish, that his concern for her safety was driven only by how it would affect him.

She hadn’t even had to mention being hungry. Cazador had known, almost as if he could sense it. The way he’d handled everything—without hesitation or the usual hint of frustration—was unexpected. It wasn’t the cold command or indifferent distance she was used to. He had actually considered her needs before she’d even voiced them.

“Oh, get a grip, Y/N!” she mentally scolded herself. Just because someone shows a little kindness doesn’t mean they actually care. Remember how many kids you’ve helped, how many you’ve been nice to? Fuck them kids. She laughed at her own joke, the sound a bit too loud in the silence.

She paused for a moment, just outside her door, and took a deep breath, letting the moment settle in her chest.

“Don’t get used to this,” she told herself quietly, as if trying to remind herself of the rules she had lived by for so long. Yet, even as the words left her mouth, she found herself smiling again, already looking forward to the comfort of a proper meal and a warm shower.

Y/N walked into her room, the soft smile still on her face. She quickly made her way to the bathroom, stripping off her travel-worn clothes and stepping into the shower. The warm water relaxed her, and she reached for the vanilla-scented soap Cazador’s servants had left. The sweet fragrance filled the air as she lathered it on, feeling a strange comfort in the simple luxury.

She closed her eyes, letting herself relax for a few moments, thinking about how Cazador had taken care of everything without her saying a word. It was... nice, she thought, before pushing away the feeling.

Y/N stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped loosely around her, her skin still glistening from the warmth of the water. She was about to walk over to the wardrobe when the door creaked open behind her.

"Ah!" she yelped, spinning around in surprise, her heart hammering in her chest. Her wide eyes locked onto Cazador, who stood in the doorway, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his gaze traced slowly over her exposed skin.

He didn’t flinch or look away, his eyes lingering as if he were studying her with an almost unsettling calmness. There was no sign of embarrassment in him—he seemed entirely unphased by her shocked reaction.

"Didn’t think you’d be quite so... surprised little mouse,” he said casually, voice cool and teasing as he let his gaze follow the line of her body. His words were a slow, deliberate drawl, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Y/N’s face burned with embarrassment, her heart racing. "What the fuck?! You could've knocked!" she snapped, quickly pulling the towel tighter around herself.

He only shrugged, his expression unreadable. "In my own home? You’re not the only one with things to do," he replied dryly, stepping into the room with an air of indifference, as though he wasn’t standing just a few feet away from her in such an intimate moment.

Without breaking his gaze, he held out the clothes he’d brought for her, still watching her with an unnerving intensity. "You’ll need these."

Y/N’s mouth went dry as she grabbed the clothes from his hands, refusing to meet his eyes as her cheeks flushed with both anger and embarrassment. "Thanks…” she muttered, but there was an awkwardness to her words now, her usual defiance slipping.

Cazador didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering just a moment longer before he turned on his heel. "Mmm...I’ll leave you to get dressed then," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet amusement as he made his way toward the door.

Y/N stood there, still reeling from the encounter, trying to steady her breathing. It took a few moments before she could shake the unsettling feeling of his eyes on her, but by then, he was already gone, leaving her alone in the room.

After a moment to collect herself, Y/N quickly dressed in the clothes Cazador had provided. The fabric felt soft against her skin. Once she was fully dressed, she ran a hand through her damp hair, still a bit flustered but determined to put the awkward moment behind her.

Taking a deep breath, she left the room and made her way downstairs. The castle was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the soft padding of her feet against the stone floors.

She could smell the delicious scent of dinner wafting through the air as she neared the dining hall. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her how long it had been since she had eaten anything substantial.

As she entered the room, she saw Cazador already seated at the table, his posture rigid and composed, though his eyes briefly flicked up to her as she approached. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her take a seat across from him, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor—an almost imperceptible softness that she couldn't see.

“Dinner is ready,” he said, his voice cool but with an undertone that suggested something unspoken.

Y/N nodded, still feeling a bit self-conscious. “Smells amazing,” she said, though her mind was still occupied by the strange encounter earlier. She picked up her fork, trying to focus on the food in front of her, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Cazador.

She turned to him, expecting an explanation, a remark—anything—but he remained silent, simply watching her, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Her gaze lingered on him, waiting, but he didn’t break the silence, only folded his hands on the table and looked back with that quiet, disconcerting intensity that left her both curious and unsettled.

She tilted her head, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “You know, I’m still not sure why you let me stay.“

Cazador’s eyes narrowed, though he didn’t flinch. “Thieves rarely make it past my doorstep,” he replied coolly, his voice edged with a dangerous calm. “It would be wise not to test the limits of my patience.”

“We’re cursed go ahead,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I just never thought I’d be here. This whole thing is… ” She sighed, her voice trailing off. “I was silent, and now I’m wondering if that’s been my weakness all along. I stayed quiet coming here, and look where it’s gotten me.”

His gaze sharpened, a flash of something almost too quick to catch. “You misunderstand. Silence isn’t weakness; it’s discipline. There are words better left unsaid, truths better left unseen.”

“Is that really what you believe?” she challenged, meeting his gaze steadily. “Or is that just a convenient way to bury what you can’t—or won’t—face?”

He held her stare, and for a split second, a flicker of something close to vulnerability crossed his expression. But he quickly masked it with an air of detachment. “It’s survival,” he answered, his tone hard. “There’s power in what you choose not to reveal.”

She leaned in slightly, her voice almost a whisper, as if the words themselves carried weight. “There’s a certain power in silence, in keeping things hidden. Secrets, tucked away, can feel like armor, protecting us from the world. But, in truth, silence isn’t always strength. It can become a cage, a quiet prison we build around ourselves, trapping what we’re too afraid to face. And yes, speaking—speaking can drain us of some of that power. It leaves us vulnerable, exposed. But sometimes, it’s only by giving voice to what we’ve carried in the dark that we can truly be free.” She paused, her eyes searching his with a kind of quiet intensity. “Is it better to speak, or to die?”

He studied her carefully, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Careful, or you might begin to sound like someone who believes words can save you. Words are tools of manipulation. I would think you, of all people, would understand that.”

She studied him and how serious he looked.

“Curiosity isn’t enough to keep you safe,” he stated flatly, eyes steady as they met hers. "If anything happens to you, it reflects on me. Every scrape, every bruise—you’ll feel it, and so will I."

“I know you’re only keeping me around for self-preservation,” she said, her voice low but steady. “But it would be nice to get to know each other a little. I mean, we’re in this together, aren’t we?”

His gaze hardened, his jaw tight. “Self-preservation,” he repeated, his voice cold, with a sharpness that hinted at something deeper. “If there’s any trust here, it’s because I need you to stay alive. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She nodded slowly, yet couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips. “But needing me here doesn’t feel like a burden to you, does it ?”

“Then you’re mistaken,” he replied curtly, eyes narrowing as if he could bury any softer sentiments beneath his steely gaze. “Be sure of one thing, little thief—this isn’t charity. I’m keeping you here because our lives are bound, not by choice, but by this curse.” He slowly rubs his sigil.

She nods slowly looking at her own sigil and subconsciously rubbing it too, taking in his words before she stared at him for a moment, her gaze narrowing as if trying to pierce through the layers of guarded tension he always carried. She could feel the weight of his presence, the silent rules he imposed on everything he did—no slip-ups, no mistakes. But something in her couldn’t help herself...

She crossed her arms, looking him over with a smirk. “After this, I’m stealing the fuck out of your relics, I swear,” she said smirking, voice laced with humour and some seriousness. The words felt like a shield, something to deflect from the growing weight of the silence between them.

Cazador didn’t blink, his eyes staying on her as if trying to measure whether she meant it or not. His lips twitched, but he didn’t allow a smile to surface. Instead, his gaze hardened as he tilted his head slightly, observing her.

"You think you can," he said coolly, the challenge in his voice clear but understated.

Y/N’s smirk deepened, her fingers tapping on the table lightly. “Oh, I will. ” she teased, leaning back in her chair, the air around them shifting with the playful tension.

Cazador’s eyes never left her, but there was a flicker there, something almost like an understanding in his gaze, but he quickly masked it. “Then you’ll have to be fast,” he replied, his voice sharp as ever, but his posture, just slightly more relaxed than before.

She raised an eyebrow, feeling her grin widen. “I’m fast. You’ll see.”

There was a brief moment of silence, where both of them seemed to forget the weight of everything else—just the two of them, playing at something deeper, something neither of them realized.

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Haiiiiii ! Im super happy with this chapter I realized that I should write shorter chapters because I have a lot of shtuff to say haha

Thank you for reading please leave a like / reblog :)

Also…I just love this song intro like holy smokes it’s addicting.

Siren

[taesspark]

Keeping Score

drabble #4 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none

You roll your shoulders and stretch your neck to no avail. You must’ve developed this impenetrable ache when you were hunched over your Potions essay last night in the common room. Or maybe it was when one of the idiot chasers on the Quidditch team (surprisingly not Jungkook this time) hit you between the shoulderblades. Either way, you are not having a good time, and this time it has more to do with the physical pain of sitting against this rickety, unsupportive library chair than the mental pain of working on a project with Jeon Jungkook. 

“Need some help?” Jungkook grins at you from across the table. The both of you had been working on this project for a while now, and you just now notice how few people are left in the library. 

You scowl at him, cursing the day McGonagall decided group projects were the new thing. “Don’t mock my pain and suffering, Jeon.” 

You massage the back of my neck and wince at the permanent crick that had taken residence in your already exhausted body. 

“Try rolling your head around,” he says. You can’t tell if he was joking or actually trying to help, but then he starts rolling his head around. “In circles like this. It always helps me.” 

You frown, but you roll your head slowly in a circle just as he did. Halfway through, you’re struck by a stinging pain. “Ow, ow, fuck.” 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook leans over the table and reaches toward your neck, as if to examine it himself. You swat his hand away. 

“Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing or something?” He offers, unfazed. 

“I’ll be fine. It’s just-” You attempt to stretch your neck again “-really annoying.”

It’s more than annoying. It hurts like hell. But you’re not about to tell Mr. Jeon “Go to the Hospital Wing” Jungkook that. If you went to the Hospital Wing everytime something hurt, you’d never leave. 

Jungkook stands up. You stare up at him blankly and ask, “Where are you going? We’re not done yet, and I am not doing this entire thing myself.” 

He doesn’t answer, instead walking around the table and standing right behind me. “Y/N, I know you like to pretend to hate me and whatever, but what if I said I could solve all your problems?” 

“I highly doubt that, Jungkook.” You deadpan. “And what do you mean pretend to hate you?” 

“Trust me, just this one time.” 

“No thanks.” 

He sighs. “Listen. What I’m about to tell you is top secret information.” 

“Top secret?” You repeat, bewildered, craning your head up to look at him. Jungkook is a bit red in the face. Although you’re not sure how you got yourself into this impromptu secret-spilling with him, you can’t deny that you’re curious. “This better be good.” 

“You can’t tell anyone.” You sneak another look at him over your shoulder. He’s serious. Even the sparkle in his eyes is dull. “I mean it.” 

“Okay, fine. I won’t tell anyone.” 

“So,” Jungkook starts slowly, “my mother suffered from a lot of aches and pains when I was a kid. She became really interested in all sorts of home remedies, massage therapies, herbal treatments, the sorts. And she taught me all of it.” 

You don’t say anything for a moment, just processing that Jeon Jungkook, Quidditch Extraordinaire, Hogwarts’ Golden Boy, the Doofenshmirtz to your Perry the Platypus, was well-versed in massage therapy of all things. You also don’t mind letting Jungkook simmer in nerves as he waits for your reaction. 

You turn around in your seat fully to face him, watching with pure joy as he shifts awkwardly on his feet. He avoids your gaze, all but hiding behind the palms of his hands. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” he mumbles. “I told you because I thought it might help.” 

You try but you can’t hide your shit-eating grin. “Jeon Jungkook. Are you offering me a massage?” 

He sticks you with a pointed look. “Don’t make this worse than it has to be. I’m only offering because the Quidditch team needs you uninjured at the game this weekend.” 

You open your mouth to tease him more, but all of your thoughts are drowned out by the unbearable pinch in your neck. With a grimace, you turn back around in your chair and gesture to your neck. 

“Okay, sure, do it. Work your magic.” 

The second Jungkook’s hands brush at your neck, you start to realize that maybe this isn’t such a good idea. First of all, you’re in a very public library, even if it’s nighttime and most students are back in their common rooms. Second of all, your project has been abandoned midway. If you don’t finish tonight, you’ll have to meet up with Jungkook again. Third of all, isn’t it weird? To have Jungkook massaging your neck? You couldn’t say. You’ve never been in this situation before. 

The moment Jungkook pressed a finger onto a specific point on the back of your neck, all of these concerns whooshed out of your head. Suddenly, the fact that you’re in a library seems trivial. Your eyes flutter closed at the next touch. 

It’s like your body is made of buttons, and Jungkook knows exactly which ones to press. It’s too good, like bite-your-lip-so-you-don’t-moan-like-a-weird-freak good. 

“You good?” He says softly after a little while. 

You mumble something intelligible, eyes still closed. He laughs but continues doing his magic—literally. You think he took out his wand for a moment, and after that, a wonderful, cold sensation spread throughout your back and shoulders. 

You don’t open your eyes until after he stops. He actually has to say, “You can open your eyes now.” 

The overwhelming smugness all over his stupid face meets you when you open your eyes, and it’s enough to make you cringe in embarrassment. 

“So. How do you feel?” He asks, settling back into his seat across from you. 

You purse your lips and busy yourself with shuffling your papers around. 

He rocks back and forth in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. The relief in your neck was enough for you to let him have his moment. 

“Thanks, Jungkook.” You stare stubbornly at the parchment that you had been working on before.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He’s enjoying this too much. 

“I said thank you,” you snap. 

Stupid Jungkook and his stupid skills. It’s not fair that he’s good at everything, even something as random as massage therapy. 

The smile on his face is warm, but still, he says, “You don’t sound very grateful.”

“Don’t push it.” You roll your eyes at him, and if possible, his grin widens. In your absent thoughts about slapping the grin off his face, a thought strikes you. You grin back at him. “Now that I know about all your wonderful...skills, I sure hope that information doesn’t somehow fall into the wrong hands.” 

Jungkook’s smile falls. 

“Imagine the people I could tell,” you whisper, relishing the momentary fear you catch on his face before he replaces it with casual nonchalance. 

Y/N: 1. Jungkook: 0.

Fine, you suppose Jungkook gets a point for massaging your neck for 10 minutes. 

“You wouldn’t,” Jungkook says. “Not after I made you feel like heaven on earth.” 

“I think you give yourself too much credit.” 

“Some would say I deserve the credit.” 

“Your mother, perhaps?” 

“You, actually,” he all but leers at you, “and those noises you made just now.” 

He gestures at your neck. 

Fuck. You thought those noises were in your head. 

The corners of Jungkook’s lips curl up at the lack of an immediate comeback. 

Y/N: 1. Jungkook: 2.

A/N: I haven't updated this series since Jan 2022 because life got busy (grad school) and I started writing an original story. This has been collecting in the dust for years, so I figured it's better to post as is than not at all. I may do the same with some other fics, but no promises.

Taglist: @kneel-begyourpardon @flowersgirl02 @chimchoom @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered

[fe-fictions]

Good day/night! :]

Might you have some spare Henry crumbs laying around? I've been on a crowman high lately and you write him so well! <3

(Here's some Henry taking care of a sick wife and baby!!!)

The family had taken a brief, albeit very fun and relaxing, trip in Plegia. Morgan being only eight months old certainly made things interesting. Having the whole family there to enjoy the beauty of Plegia outside war time was fun.

Plus, you were both Plegians, so it was nice to learn about your roots.

It was a magical time. Or at least, it would have been. You woke up the morning after you came home and found yourself unable to get out of bed.

You had a fever, your head was pounding, and you were a snotty mess of misery. Henry was amused until he heard baby Morgan bawling down the hall. You both caught, according to your husband, the Plegian swine flu.

No one was immune from it, not even sweet, innocent little blood bags like Morgan (Henry’s words, not yours).

So Henry quickly went from teasing you and being fascinated by how miserable you were to going into full-blown panic.

Like any disease, a baby catching it had a higher risk of complications. Most recover, Henry explained while frantically scribbling an urgent letter for Maribelle to tie to one of his crows, but itty bitty babies could suffer serious health problems.

Henry got to work on preparing you a bucket of cold water, a second bucket for the kerchiefs you would be blowing your nose into all day, and a third bucket in case you couldn’t keep your food down.

You didn’t.

“Gods, Henry- did you have to send that filthy animal to me? I’m literally down the block! It would take you fifteen minutes to-”

“Fifteen minutes is a waste of time! Morgan and Robin could be dead by then! And if it’s either of them, it’s no joke, nya ha!”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“It’s nervous laughter!” He chuckled again, though judging by how pale his face was, it seemed to be true. 

Maribelle simply scoffed and hurried to the bedroom, ready to treat her friend.

“Robin, darling! Oh, you look positively ghastly!” She gasped, drawing the mask over her mouth and nose. She pulled on her medical gloves, a stave at her side and a big pouch of herbs on her belt. “The Plegian swine flu is no joke...it’s very rarely found in Ylisse, but when it travels with you…”

“I-it’s a disaster.” You wheezed, not before you were overcome by coughing. “Anything y-you can do will be a welcome remedy.”

“Luckily for you, there’s nothing here that herbs and plenty of rest won’t fix. Now Morgan might be a little trickier, given his age...but we can at least get started with you.”

Maribelle was quick to send  Henry off to grind up the herbs, preparing some disgusting concoction guaranteed to get your body back to normal.

Presuming Henry could put it together.

“Now, when did you start to feel ill?”

“W-well, if I’m honest… It started around-”

Crash

“Ah, gods- I broke the cup!!”

“-The time we got home, last night. It was late-”

Smash

“The pestle’s shattered!!”

“-And I just thought I was tired, but...my head feels about the same as-”

Bang

“The herbs are everywhere!!”

“HENRY!!” Maribelle shouted out the door, “What in the gods’ names are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a mess!” Henry apologized, his voice shaky and unsure. “I-I just meant to help a bit, but it looks like I’m making things worse, nya ha!”

“Why don’t you come and sit,” Maribelle pinched  her brow, “Just settle down until you stop breaking things.” 

You watched as Henry wandered back into the bedroom, looking surprisingly pale and nervous. You had never quite seen him in such a way, before.

After all, it was always good times and weird vibes with your husband. Since when did he become the anxious type?

“I’ll be right back, Robin. I’ll get your medicine.”

“Give some to Morgan, first.” You asked, “I can wait.”

Maribelle nodded to you before taking off, leaving you alone with your husband who was bouncing his leg and fidgeting with his hands with a nervousness that you’d never seen before.

For a few moments, it was quiet, listening to the rhythmic, rapid tapping of his heel against the stone. Eventually, though, you would have to snap him out of it.

“Henry, a-are you all right?” You questioned as gently as you could. Henry started to nod, giving you a cracked, faux grin. Then he paused, his smile fell, and he shook his head.

“Well, if I’m honest? No. Not at all. I feel like I’m dying inside.” He admitted. “I mean, you’re sick, and so is Morgan! My two favorite living people! And there’s not a thing I can do about it- I mean, he’s just a baby, and we’ve only been back together for a year- I dunno. It scares me, y’know? Which is impressive! When’s the last time I’ve been genuinely scared, right! Nya ha ha!”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, Henry.” You tried to assure him. But he shook his head, folding his arms tightly.

“You don’t know that! All it takes is one thing to go wrong and it could be bye-bye wifey, or even bye-bye baby, and I...oh, I couldn’t handle that. Nope, not one bit.” 

It was certainly a reasonable concern. 

“Henry, sweetheart...come here.” You held your hand out to him, insisting he sit with you. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the pain that numbed your sense of worry, but you were far calmer than he was.

He took your hand, revealing trembling fingers. You squeezed it tightly, trying your best to comfort him despite your situation.

“Maribelle will take care of us. We’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

“But you can’t be sure!” He sighed shakily, “Anything can happen when it comes to Plegian flu. It can either be nothing at all, or really bad! And you never know until it happens. If something bad did happen to you or Morgan, I just...I don’t know what to do! You already told me I’m not allowed to re-animate either of you if you croak, so...I’m out of options!”

“I’m standing firm on that, just so you know.” You informed him with a soft smile, “But, Henry...there’s no value in worrying for worrying’s sake. W-we really shouldn’t be concerned with the unknown until it comes.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one having to take care of both of you! What if I mess up?! What if I make it worse!! I already broke Maribelle’s mortar and pestle, there are herbs everywhere, a-and I just-”

“Henry,” You pressed a finger to his lips, “You’re overthinking.”

“B-but I just...I worry about you guys…”

“I know.” You beamed at him, stroking his cheek. “But please, try not to worry. We need to wait for Maribelle’s diagnosis, and we can go from there, okay? It’ll be easier if we take it a step at a time.”

“Gosh, Robin...how’re you able to stay so calm all the time?” He looked at you incredulously, “I’m about ready to pop out of my skin and just run around like a headless Risen!”

“Experience.” You laughed. 

Maribelle came in not long after, informing you both that the flu didn’t appear to be as bad as it could be. 

“Morgan should recover within the week, though we’ll need to make sure he receives two doses of medicine each day; one in the morning and one at night. Henry, you’ll have to make it for him each day- is that something you can handle? Or will I be making more visits this week?”

Henry shared a look with you, seeing your encouraging smile. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“I can handle it, I promise!”

“Good. Morgan’s going to be counting on you. Robin, you should need more rest than anything else, but I’m recommending you take one dose each evening; it will help you sleep better, and it’s strong enough that it should hold you the next day.”

“That’s fine by me.” You agreed; the less disgusting, bitter herbs you had to ingest, the better.

“Your recovery time will be a bit longer than Morgan’s, though, judging by how you’re doing… I’d say two weeks at minimum; a month-and-a-half at most. Now if you want, I can have Lissa or Libra come and help take care of you, so that Henry can focus on caring for Morgan. Or, we can simply send Morgan off with a wet nurse while you’re here.”

“N-no, I-!” Henry interrupted before you could reply, putting a hand to his chest. “I can handle it, Maribelle! After all, if I can’t take care of my family, what kind of man would I be? Just a sad bag of bones and sinew! Not good for anything but crow food.”

Maribelle glanced over at you, looking for some sort of response. You knew she was still wary of Henry, especially now that she was out a very lovely mortar and pestle. But you were confident in his abilities.

“He can take care of us.” You told her, “I trust him.”

“Well...if you insist.” She conceded, earning a whoop from your husband- and an apology for it shortly after when he realized you weren’t to be around loud noises with your headache. “I’ll be coming to check up on you twice a week until you’re all better- until then, Henry, we’re counting on you!”

“You got nothin’ to worry about, Maribelle! We just take it a day at a time, and it’ll be great, nya ha!”

“Robin, if anything changes, or you need help...please don’t hesitate to call me or the other healers immediately.”

“I will.”

“I do mean anything, dear.”

“...I will.”

“If Henry does one thing wrong-”

“Hey!”

“I got it, Maribelle.” You chuckled, waving her away. “Thanks for your concern. We’ll be sure to call for you if we need anything. But I’m positive Henry will take care of us just fine.”

“You can bet your organs on it!” He grinned, giggling happily with his wife’s support. Maribelle gave him a long, hard look, but eventually took her leave. 

Henry was quick to move Morgan’s crib into the bedroom, guaranteeing that he could keep track of both of you and ensure you were both recovering nicely at the same time.

While it was heartbreaking listening to Morgan’s discomfort and those tiny baby coughs, it helped to see him improve day after day.

You did end up recovering about a week after Morgan, all thanks to Henry. He made sure to give you only the best. Most of all you were just thankful that none of you could get the Plegian swine flu ever again.

Especially since he bought Maribelle a replacement mortar and pestle that came from a questionable source, covered in animal bones and bird skulls and...you really didn’t know what corner of Hell he summoned them from.

At least there wouldn’t be another opportunity for him to break anything else of Maribelle’s, seeing as you wouldn’t be getting sick again.

You would take extra steps to ensure that just so he wouldn’t frighten Maribelle with another horrifying “gift”.

[disillusioned-phantasma]

.

.

.

The seals are back. This is exciting for just about everyone in your little seaside town, setting off a media frenzy rivaling the Olympics. Seals dominate the front page of the paper. Life-sized cutouts appear in shop windows and plastered to hotel lobby doors, welcoming visitors and advertising swimwear. Dr. Verhoeven, the local marine biologist, has already assembled a group of volunteers to rope off the beach, giving the seals plenty of space to waddle up the rocks and nap in adorable, blubbery piles. Last year’s juveniles are back and all grown up, but it’s whelping season again and there should be even more pups scooting down the beach soon enough.

Your friends drop by before the sun’s climbed all the way over the horizon, dismayed to find you holed up at home. They’ve got binoculars and packed lunches prepared for an afternoon outdoors. They barge in, convinced that you’re just feeling a little under the weather and that seals are the best remedy. You try to tell them you’re just tired, that you’ll meet up with them later, but even the dark circles under your bloodshot eyes don’t get you off the hook. An ad plays for “Sealwatch,” a beloved segment where Dr. Verhoeven takes call-in questions and local anchors share the best viewer-submitted photos of the aquatic visitors.

“You can sleep in the car,” Jeremy says, so restless he won’t even sit down. He bounces his weight from one foot to the other, hands jammed in his pockets. “There’s a million tourists in town right now. We have to get back before we lose our spot.”

Thea sits next to you on the couch. “Do you feel sick?” she asks, pressing her hand to your forehead. “You’ve never missed it before. Come on, I’ll give you my coat. It’s not even that cold out today, the weather’s perfect.” 

“You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you say. Your refusal, however minor, is unheard of. They can’t wrap their heads around it. 

“You’re already up. You thought about going,” Lilianne says, hands on her hips. She looks like she’s coming from a combat zone, decked out in tactical photography equipment, a camera harness and a waterproof vest. The tripod, you’re assuming, is already in the car. She’s been locked in a bitter rivalry with a tourist photographer who keeps winning the Most Photogenic Seal Portrait award. 

And she’s right, you are already up. You couldn’t sleep. When you were little, you’d hear that the seals were migrating back to local waters and you’d be bouncing around all night in excitement. You’d be up before anyone else, begging your parents to take you to the beach. Now, you stare at the ceiling all night in dread. Instead of getting dressed and rushing down to one of the viewing platforms near the beach, you check your locks and sit on the couch, staying perfectly still and silent. You listen. You wait for something. Your friend’s chatter and footsteps only gave you partial relief.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Cailean sits down in the open spot beside you, opposite Thea. He presses in close, pushing your thighs together. He looks at you slyly out of the corner of his eye, peering through black, curly bangs with an impish smile. He was a cute kid, short and chubby, but he shot up like a weed when he hit puberty. It’s easy for him to crowd you against the couch, taking up more than his own cushion with his tall, broad body. One of his muscular arms slithers over the back of the couch and rests on your shoulder. 

“What’s with all the locks, anyway?” Cailean teases. “Are you worried the seals are going to break in?” You shoot him a warning look. His smile slowly grows into a smirk. “If you won’t come for the seals, will you at least come for me? I barely get to see you guys anymore. I miss living here.” 

“Cailean’s practically a seal himself. He’s on the same migration schedule,” Thea says. She’s joking, nudging you with her elbow. You can’t even force a weak smile.

There’s no reason to keep up your resistance with the very thing you wanted to avoid in your house. Getting out is the next best option; fresh air, open space, room to escape. Jeremy whoops excitedly when you finally agree to go and rushes out to start the car. Everyone’s in high spirits, laughing, chatting, talking about the seals. Cailean slings an arm over your shoulder and herds you quickly towards the door, a gesture that makes you immediately suspicious. You stop dead in your tracks when you spot something on the floor, half-hidden behind your couch.

It’s a dark mass, a rumpled pile of slightly fuzzy material, like a cozy blanket. But it’s not a blanket. You know exactly what it is. You tear away from Cailean and gather it up in your arms. 

“Cailean, you forgot your...blanket,” you say tersely. Just holding it is dangerous. You feel the power in every single bristling hair, the unbelievable softness making you never want to let it go. You shove it towards him. Cailean stares down at it with something like a pout, then meets your eyes. He knows he’s been caught red-handed but doesn’t even look ashamed. He gives you a very unsubtle, very heated look.

“Thanks,” he purrs, gathering up the soft material and folding it over his arms. He makes sure to brush your hands together as he takes it from you, his touch lingering, fingers grazing your hands with a lover’s tender strokes. There’s no time to linger, Jeremy hollering from the driveway for the two of you to get a move on, but you know this isn’t the end of it. Cailean seizes your wrist before you can back out, a dangerous look in his eyes. Thea climbs into the passenger seat beside Jeremy, while you, Lilianne and Cailean cram into the back with camera equipment across your laps.

“Is it the usual spot?” you ask, desperate for a distraction from the way Cailean presses into your side, the possessive weight of his hand on your knee. 

“Yep,” Jeremy says proudly. “Dad said we’ll have to move over when the news crew gets there, but they’ll give us our spot back as soon as they’re done.” Jeremy’s father is a charismatic news anchor with the distinguished honor of hosting Sealwatch. He sets up on a seaside cliff across the road from the beach, the rocky vantage point naturally cropping out the tourists below. “Nice, looks like no one moved in while we were gone. You guys go ahead and get set up, I’m gonna find somewhere to park.” 

Jeremy drops you off at the top of the cliff. Despite your nerves, you find yourself relaxing in the sea breeze. You rest your arms on the guardrail and peer down at the beach. It’s hard to stay in a bad mood when you look at the seals wriggling in the sand. A new group has just arrived, sliding out of the waves. You can hear them barking, a cuddle pile slowly forming around several adults as the juveniles scoot closer. A handful of pups squirm in the sand, peering curiously at Dr. Verhoeven’s volunteers scurrying back and forth, preparing for the coming crowds.

“Is it just me, or are there more of them than usual this year?” Lilianne muses, checking through her viewfinder and adjusting her tripod again. 

“It’s the new conservation program. Dr. Verhoeven got a few other towns along the coast to close their beaches during the whelping season,” Thea says. She joins you at the railing, looking down at the seals wistfully. “The seals are a lot less stressed and come back more reliably, because they know it’s safe here.”

“Wait a minute, did you get a job at the marine life center? You always said you’d work there when we were kids,” Cailean says, suddenly beside you. He’s wearing the blanket over his shoulders. Playfully, he wraps one end around you, pulling you tightly against his side to share the warmth. You try to pull away just once, because his grip on your side suddenly grows hard enough to bruise. He gives you a brief, wordless glance, your final warning, before he returns to the conversation like nothing happened. Lilianne and Thea don’t notice. You want to scream.

“It’s a dream come true,” Thea says, beaming. “We see seals year-round, usually injured pups that need a little helping hand to get back in the water. It’s really rewarding.”

“Met any hot selkie boys yet?” Lilianne asks casually. Thea blushes and starts sputtering incoherently, mortified. “Do you guys remember that? Thea always loved those stories. She swore she was going to marry a selkie.”

“I just thought it was romantic!” Thea says helplessly.

“Romantic? Maybe if you’re a serial killer,” Jeremy scoffs. He must’ve found somewhere to park. He’s carrying a backpack with more supplies, a checkered blanket to lay on the ground so you can make this a proper picnic. “Stealing someone’s pelt so they have to marry you is kind of fucked up.” 

“It’s just a fairy tale,” Thea mutters. “I always thought it’d be cute if, like, they gave you their pelt, you know? To propose or something.” 

Cailean helps Jeremy spread out the blanket, leaving his own heavy, impossibly soft pelt draped over your shoulders. “That would be cute,” he agrees. “It’d be like the ultimate sign of trust, saying, ‘I love you so much that I’m giving you my future and my freedom.’” He looks at you sharply out of the corner of his eye, a smile slowly spreading across his face. You avoid his gaze.

You spend the day with your friends at the cliff, lounging in the sun, enjoying the sea breeze, watching the seals and making up names and little stories for them. Eventually, you relax, forgetting your fear. You’re even able to laugh and joke with Cailean, despite the intense longing in his eyes. He gets up whenever you so much as imply that you might want something, whether it’s a snack or just to stretch your legs. He flexes, rolling his shoulders and showing off a powerful swimmer’s physique, long, muscular legs and a broad chest. 

“Here, let me help you up,” he says, offering a hand. You take it and end up plastered against his chest, feeling the soothing warmth he gives off. You’ve been in a constant reverse tug-of-war with his pelt all day, constantly pushing it on one another. Cailean is always persistent, always pushy when it comes to this. Whenever he visits, you have to watch out for his pelt ending up stuffed in a closet or hidden under your mattress so he can lament “losing” it when it’s time to leave. But you’re even more persistent. You turn the house upside down and eventually it turns up, often in increasingly ridiculous places. At least out here, there’s no hiding it, but he’s still hellbent on getting you to hold onto it as long as possible. 

“I really don’t need it,” you say, shrugging it off your shoulders. Again, that heavenly soft texture against your fingers beckons you to hold onto it, to keep it close and never let it go, but you resist. You shove it into Cailean’s arms. 

He shoves it right back at you. You only hold it because he lets go so abruptly, content to let it fall on the ground if that means it’ll be closer to you. “You’re cold. I saw you shivering. Keep it,” he insists. 

“I’m serious, Cailean, it’s fine.”

“I’m serious, too. Put it back on right now or so help me—”

“Oh my god, you guys, look!” Lilianne cries suddenly. You hear her camera clicking nonstop. “The seals! They’re looking at us!”

She’s right. The sight is adorable to the rest of your friends, but to you, it’s chilling. Every seal on the beach is staring up at the cliff. They lift their heads out of the sand, scooting closer on their flippers. The pups bark curiously. You wonder if their parents are speaking to them softly in the language of seals, warning them against Cailean’s reckless behavior. What kind of selkie desperately tries to force their pelt onto a human? You feel embarrassed on his behalf. 

The hours fly by. Jeremy eats through his own share of snacks and everyone else’s. Lilianne gets the perfect shot of a seal pup nuzzling against his mother. Thea stares just a little too intently at the seals. Cailean slides the pelt under you to sit on and lets out a soft growl when you try to shift away. With the sun setting, Dr. Verhoeven’s volunteers start to clear everyone out. Time to give the seals their privacy. You load up the car but you’re not sure you want to go home. Cailean has this look in his eye that’s making you nervous. 

“I’m going to stay out for a while,” you tell your friends. You exchange hugs and farewells, watching Jeremy’s little car trundle back down the cliff. You’re not surprised that Cailean stays, too. With the others gone, he seems calmer, less intent on invading your personal space. He walks with you down a meandering dirt path, the whisper of the ocean filling the silence. He holds onto his pelt. 

“You know, love, it wouldn’t be all that different from how things were today,” he says. You glance at him warily. He offers a small smile. He’s within arm’s reach but he lets you have what little distance remains, not crowding you, not reaching for you. You walk through the last of the crowds, glancing at the seals lounging beyond the yellow tape and barricades. Just like before, every set of large, shining eyes turns to look at you, following you and Cailean as you pass. “You liked that, right? Spending time together? I liked it, too. I could be here every day if we were married. I wouldn’t migrate with the others anymore.” 

You don’t answer right away. You know it’s a very delicate subject for Cailean. The truth is you like him a lot. He was born here during the whelping season, on this very beach. The two of you were friends as soon as you’d laid eyes on one another. His parents delayed their migration to let him socialize with human children, and you spent your entire childhood at his side. He taught you how to swim. You snuck him fresh fish your father had caught. Together, you would sit in the sand and watch the sun go down, melting like liquid fire across the surface of the ocean.

You cried all day when he was old enough to start migrating again. He took your hands in his, looked you in the eye, and promised that he would marry you as soon as possible so that he would never have to leave again. It was the kind of silly childhood promise that you expected to laugh off later in life, but Cailean had been extremely serious. His first attempt at a proposal was when you were fifteen. He showed up in the middle of the night at your parent’s house, throwing rocks at your window. You found him standing outside, dripping wet and completely naked except for the pelt around his shoulders. He handed it to you. He told you he would be yours forever. 

He looked utterly bewildered when you handed the pelt back, telling him that you couldn’t do that to him. You knew the stories about selfish, cruel humans who stole selkie pelts. You wouldn’t be like that. It isn’t accurate to say that he didn’t take the rejection well, because he didn’t take it at all. He acted like it never happened. If anything, it only emboldened him, made him take more desperate measures. 

“Marriage is a big deal,” you tell him. “Shouldn’t we at least date first?” 

“Waste of time,” Cailean says, waving off the idea. “We already love each other. Why wait? If we don’t, I could lose you. You could meet someone else.”

“I haven’t found anyone else all this time. I haven’t even looked,” you admit. Cailean comes to a stop beside you. He looks hopeful, almost vulnerable. “I really do like you. I just don’t want to rush into anything. It’s a good way to make mistakes and get hurt.” 

Cailean looks like he wants to argue. You’re surprised that he doesn’t. Gently, sweetly, he touches your cheek, smoothing stray hair behind your ear. His fingers linger like it pains him to part from you. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life,” he says quietly. “But you’re not one of them. I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You let him come close, bending to press a kiss to your forehead. Your skin tingles. You wish he wouldn’t pull away. It feels hypocritical to call out to him, to tell him to wait, so you watch him go. He separates from you slowly, his pelt brushing against you. It takes all of your strength not to reach out and grab it.

Sleep doesn’t come. You toss and turn, haunted by Cailean’s soft features when he spoke to you earlier, the twinge of sadness behind his unwavering confidence. You worry about him. He’s so careless with his pelt, but maybe that’s just when he’s around you. If he’s afraid of losing you, then you’re terrified of some horrible person taking advantage of him, stealing his pelt and trapping him far from home. You wonder if that’s part of his frenzied efforts to win you over. He knows how fragile his situation is, how easily it could all be stolen away. 

You get out of bed. Some fresh air will help. You tell yourself this, insisting even as your feet carry you down towards the beach. Moonlight glints off of the waves and shines on the slick, snoring bodies in the sand. You’re just starting to think you’ve made a mistake, that you need to go home while you still can and think this through, when you hear a commotion, a rush of footsteps and shouting. You see something strange. A person, squeezing through the barricade, wrapped in a thick blanket, sprinting across the road. Another person giving chase, screaming. 

It’s Cailean, his eyes wide and wild, chasing after the person clutching his pelt. You don’t stop and think. You run after them both. 

Cailean’s fast but the person he’s chasing is faster, navigating the bumpy trails and downed trees of the coastal forest. They must be local, you think absently, they must know the area well. You don’t know the rules for this, how long someone has to keep a pelt for the magical binding to take place, but you can’t waste a second. They could be parked somewhere close by. They could even live somewhere around here. You don’t think about the ache in your legs, the pounding in your chest. You run. You have to get Cailean’s pelt back, no matter what.

You’re nearly as surprised as Cailean when the person you’re chasing veers off the path, onto a small, rocky patch of beach. In the light of the full moon, you glimpse a petite woman with long hair tied in a ponytail, a flash of the marine life center’s logo on the leggings of her wetsuit.

It’s Thea. You can’t believe what you’re seeing. Disbelief and horror slows your steps, but Cailean barrels straight for her. You see them circling each other, Thea clutching the pelt shut around her body. She runs her hands through Cailean’s soft, fine fur and your heart aches. She has no right to touch it. 

“Cail, wait, listen to me,” she says, hoarse and breathless from running. “Listen. I know you’re in love with them, but they don’t love you back. They don’t feel what I do for you. They don’t understand how selfish they are. I would’ve accepted your pelt a million times.” 

“Give it back,” Cailean says. His voice is pitched with fear, a terror you’ve never heard in him. Cailean is brave. He’s not afraid of anything. Not rogue waves, not sharks, not nosy marine biologists. It hurts to see him trembling like this. “You don’t know what you’re messing around with.” 

“I know all of the stories,” Thea insists. “I know you. I know how much you want a human to love you. I’m right here, Cail. I love you. Be my husband.” 

Your feet carry you forward without you realizing it. Your bare feet hit the sand and you realize you never put on shoes, never bothered. You knew, somehow, that something was wrong. Thea sees you over Cailean’s shoulder, her gaze growing cold. Whatever you wanted to say dies in your throat, drowned out by a vicious growl from Cailean. He lunges at her. He knocks her, pelt and all, into the water. Low tide laps gently at their bodies as they tangle and twist together. The sounds Cailean makes are utterly inhuman. Thea’s gentle pleading turns to gargled screams. You watch, frozen, as Cailean climbs on top of her. There’s blood on his lips and smeared over his bare chest. 

“Don’t talk to me about love,” he hisses. “You don’t know what love is. You’ve never felt the tug of it at your soul through miles of ocean. You’ve never shifted forms for it, changed your flesh and rearranged your bones just to be closer to it. You’ve never killed for love. You can’t possibly understand it.” 

Thea cries his name, or tries to. He shoves her head into the water and holds it under. He presses his weight against her back and pushes her deeper into the wet sand. Thea thrashes, flailing uselessly under him. She makes pitiful, painful sounds. The tide rushes in and you hear her gurgling and gasping under water so shallow it just barely reaches your ankles. Cailean tangles his fist in her hair and holds her head down until she stops struggling. The waves rush out blushing with blood. You see her wetsuit torn open in places, horrible, mangled bite wounds. Cailean doesn’t even eat the flesh. He spits it back out in mangled chunks and lets the ocean take it.

You take a shaky step back, soundless to your own ears, but Cailean hears it. He looks up and your heart skips a beat. Your eyes meet. He doesn’t look away as he moves, seemingly in slow motion. He lets go of Thea’s head. He grabs his pelt from where it fell in the water, wringing it dry and folding it carefully in his arms. He steps over the lifeless body at his feet. Thea’s corpse lies face-down in the sand. You wonder, dimly, what the papers will say in the morning. 

“Love,” Cailean calls out to you. He beckons you closer with a curl of his fingers. “Come to me.” 

It feels like a nightmare. You’re paralyzed, unable to move. You can only watch as Cailean comes towards you one slow, steady step at a time. He drapes his pelt over your shoulders. Even damp, it’s impossibly soft and warm. His hand grazes your cheek just like it did earlier today, but your gaze traces his wrist, back up his arm to his bare shoulder, down to the expanse of his chest slick with salt water. He’s naked, you realize. You try to take another step back and he stops you, a hand wrapping around your forearm. 

“You look so afraid,” he says softly. “You don’t think you know what this feeling is, but you do. You know it. You knew I needed you. You felt the tug at your soul.” Slowly, he sinks to his knees, easing you down with him. He pushes you down on your back, letting the pelt spread over the sand. “Do you feel that heat?” he murmurs, climbing over you. He tugs at your clothes. “I feel it. It’s time to consummate our marriage.” You try to tell him you aren��t married, but Cailean kisses you and steals your breath away. 

It’s hard to resist him, the encouraging press of his hips against yours, the curl of his hands against the back of your neck. Cailean just killed someone, just drowned Thea, leaving her body next to you in the sand, but he won’t let you look. He tugs at your chin whenever you try to glance at her. He cups your face in his hands and licks into your mouth. Your hands fly to his chest, nervous, trying to push him away, but Cailean is stronger than ever. This powerful body that always kept you from swimming too far from shore, that protected you from jellyfish stings and nuzzled against you at sunset, easily pins you under him.

“Waited so long for this,” Cailean moans between nips and kisses. He undresses you quickly, tugs off your damp pajamas and undergarments and leaves you bare in the moonlight. “I’ll savor you later, I promise, but right now I just need to make you mine.” The fear numbed you for some time, the terror and disbelief smothering your voice, but you start to come back to yourself as he pushes your knees up against your stomach. You struggle, cry out to Cailean to stop, to get off of you. 

He shoves you onto your stomach and quickly blankets your body with his. There’s no escape. He pins both of your wrists with one hand bites into the tender flesh of your throat, making you whine. He doesn’t kill you. You didn’t really think he would, but you remember Thea. Remember the monstrous bites on her body. You know what his teeth can do. The bite isn’t very hard or deep, but it stings and makes you go still. It feels like a warning. “Don’t struggle,” he says, his voice low, quiet, and firm. “Don’t fight me. Don’t try to get away. I have to do this. I won’t let anyone come between us. Not even you, love.” 

Cailean gives a slow grind of his hips. You feel him, hot and hard between your legs, thrusting against your thigh. There’s something odd about it, something thick and pulsing at the base. You whisper his name, begging him to stop. To ease up or slow down, at least, to give you time to breathe, time to think about all of this. But he bears down on you harder, presses more of his weight into you, keeping you pinned. 

“I love you,” Cailean murmurs. It’s embarrassing, the way he thrusts against you, the frenzied grinding between your thighs as he pants in your ear like an animal. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” he whispers like a mantra, keening when that thick knot at the base of his cock drags against your entrance. “I love you. I’m going to show you just how much.” 

You try to squeeze your legs together but he wedges a knee between them. He doesn’t force them open. Instead, he starts to touch you, his hands snaking under your body to rub your chest. He grinds his knee against your sex while his cock moves in a slow slide against your ass. You’re humiliated by how hot it makes you, the desperate noises you make, how you spread your legs for him. Your body wants Cailean. The rest of you can’t forget Thea lying dead in the sand.

“I love you,” Cailean tells you, over and over again. It’s as if he can’t remember how to say anything else. He whispers the words as his leaking tip finally rubs against your entrance, circling it, pushing gently and slowly inside. It’s only as he starts to penetrate you, pushing through the clench of your inner muscles and grunts at the strain, that he finally says something else. “This is forever. You’re mine, and I’m yours. I’ll never leave you. Never, ever again.” There is no gradual slide into your heat, so slow sink through your resistance. Cailean’s patience has dwindled over the years, evaporating with your every refusal. Now he has you right where he wants you. Like an animal, he takes what he wants. 

Cailean wraps a hand around your mouth just as you begin to scream. It hurts when he enters you, all in one hard, merciless movement. He stops to gasp, relishing in the grip of your body all around him. He moans your name, his hips moving in small, shallow thrusts. “It’s good,” he says shakily. “So good. Just like I dreamed it would be. Love, we should have done this sooner.” He pulls out but not far, no more than halfway. He doesn’t want to part from you. He shoves back in with a grunt and a slap of your hips together. The knot smacks against the heated flesh of your entrance. It twitches there and he grinds it against you, teasing you as much as himself. 

“When I knot you, it’ll be real,” Cailean says. “The end of our courtship. The start of our life together.” 

He slams into you again. You make a broken sound, muffled behind his palm. It hurts, but there’s an undeniable coil of pleasure tightening in the pit of your stomach. Some part of you has waited for this, too. It feels right to lay under Cailean, to make love surrounded by his warmth, his body above and his pelt below. You’re wrapped in him, one with him, just as he always said you would be. Your fear is smothered by heat and need. Cailean feels the moment you give in and a shudder runs through him. His slow, steady thrusts grow frenzied.

Cailean whispers sweet nothings and feral sentiments as he fucks you. The hand in front of your mouth moves under you, slipping between your legs. “That’s it, love,” he murmurs. “That’s it. Do you feel your husband’s cock deep inside of you? Taking you? Just feel it. Feel me. Love you. Need you. No one loves you like me. No one ever can. I’ll kill for you. I’ll die for you. Take me, love. I’m all yours.” He moves like he’s planned for this, like he’s practiced, rutting into you as strokes you hard and fast. The heat and the friction, the fullness as Cailean fills you with every hard thrust, forces you over the edge. You cum with his name on your lips. You collapse into the softness of his pelt. You’re surrounded by Cailean’s sea salt scent. 

“Love,” Cailean mutters, “I’m going to cum. Going to make you mine.” He speaks through clenched teeth. His arms wrap around you, holding your lower body tightly against his. Your fingers scrape through his pelt helplessly, trying to hold onto something. Cailean fucks his knot into you in quick, feverish thrusts. Panic surges through you briefly. You choke on his name, try to warn him it won’t fit, but it’s too late. You feel it pushing, feel him try to cram it into your body, the heat and pulse of it against your flesh. Cailean pushes your head down and raises your hips. He mounts you, using gravity and his hard downward thrusts to force his knot in with a burst of painful pressure and a fleshy, wet pop. 

It’s only then that he cums, and you almost pass out. It’s too much. He moans, still trying to thrust into you, every jerky movement dragging your hips with him. He humps into you and cries your name again and again, sounding delirious, breathless, and completely wrecked. You shiver under him. You wait for it to end. Finally, he stops moving. Cailean lays down, curled up on his side around you. Your bodies are still connected, his knot engorged inside of you. You feel little bursts of cum filling you past breaking, past what you thought you could take. Cailean wraps his arms around you. It would be easy to fall asleep here, lulled by the hiss of the ocean, Cailean’s scent and warmth, the softness of his pelt beneath you. He was careful to keep his back to Thea, giving you a view of the shore, but you know she’s there. You know he killed her.

You also know she tried to steal his pelt. To take him from you forever. There’s an ugly feeling inside of you that you’ve always tried to hide, but it rears its head just briefly. It’s relieved now. It’s content, wrapped in Cailean’s arms. “I love you,” Cailean says again, kissing the back of your neck. You think about the frightening things he said to Thea, about love and changing shape. You’re worried that it doesn’t disturb you. You’re even more worried that you think you understand.

25: Selkie

the stories say that selkies have to carefully guard their pelts or they could be forced into marriage with a human. so why is this one always “forgetting” his pelt at your house?

->explicit. contains yandere, obsessive/possessive behavior, mild gore, murder, noncon, knotting.

Keep reading

[bibibitchery]

watching their mother stumble to the car, billie knew that this night was about to get rough. she jumped in the passenger seat while their father slumped into the driver’s. “what’s the address of the hotel?” their mom said, her speech slurring. they pulled up the address and handed their mom back her phone. although their mom was having fun, their dad looked beyond angry. this puzzled them; after all, it was him, not her, who had been refilling her glass all night. they asked to switch spots with their mother so they could direct their father back to the hotel. their mother was giggling and they helped her to the back seat. enveloping them in a hug, she whispered “you know, you’re my favorite” they nodded and quietly agreed, depositing her in the back seat. closing her door, they dropped their smile momentarily. truth be told, they were exhausted. they loved that their mom was having a good time, but they remembered how she gets when she’s drunk and was beyond frustrated at their father. the two of them had never had the best relationship, well, at least they hadn’t had a great relationship since they were eight. but that’s beside the point. he deliberately got her drunk and wasn’t doing anything to remedy the impending breakdown. although she didn’t always break down when she was drunk, the chances of a meltdown increased exponentially with how many of her children were around. with all four of them present in the car, it was near guaranteed.

she was giggling along in the backseat, chatting with their siblings, and their dad made a comment about her getting “too goddamned drunk on the family holiday” they weren’t sure whether or not he intended for her to hear, but boy did she hear. she got upset; as an ex-mormon, drinking was an especially sore subject for her. while billie had left and begun drinking when they were 18, she hadn’t left until she was well into her 30s and didn’t start drinking until years after that. they never wanted her to feel guilty about drinking, but they were getting the idea that their father wanted her to feel guilty. she got quiet for a time, they gave their father the stink eye, although with his eyes on the road, and he most likely didn’t notice.

a few minutes later, she began joking around again. the kids and her were laughing and playing, billie didn’t quite know exactly what about, but they were happy that she seemed to be enjoying herself. *slap* they heard a noise from the backseat, followed by profuse apologies from their mother. “oh my god, elias, i’m so sorry! are you okay? are you hurt??” she sounded as though she was on the brink of tears. billie asked what happened. “i’ll tell you what happened, mom is abusing her children!” their father turned to billie, giggled, and put his finger over his lips, signaling for billie to not say anything. they knew that no matter what they said, no matter what amount of reassurance they offered, their mom would soon begin crying again. she always had the “i’m just the worst mother” thoughts, and when drunk, the thoughts came out in tidal waves. they looked back in the rear-view mirror and saw tears silently streaming down her face. they turned to their father and demanded that they found a toilet, lying and saying that they had to pee.

as they were driving, billie was pondering as to whether or not to be kind, but when pulling into the parking lot, their father began giggling. they were furious. the van crept into the gas station parking lot and they all but dragged their father from the driver’s seat. positioning the two of them behind the gas price sign, billie went off on him. he was being a horrible husband, father, and, frankly, a horrible person; they didn’t care if people passing by heard what they had to say. he should know better than to throw those “jokes” at her when drunk. he barely made those jokes when sober, so what made him think that it was acceptable to talk to her like that when she was drinking. they didn’t swear at him frequently, but in that moment, they were too angry to stand there and say anything kind at all. he got her drunk, called her a horrible mother, and had the audacity to laugh about it? this was juvenile behavior that one would expect from a couple in their teens. he was nearly five goddamned decades old and he needed to grow the fuck up. they stormed inside to vape in the bathroom, telling him to get some goddamned chips and coke.

stepping up to the car, billie plastered a wide smile back on their face and instructed their father to do the same. their mother was still crying, but flynn, their younger sibling, was comforting her. flynn was a good kid and should never have had to pay for their father’s sins. billie exclaimed that they were 15 minutes away from home! “huzzah!” isaiah cheered, the other five repeated the cheer and their father started the car up.

[ragingbookdragon]

Shadow & Light

Simon "Ghost" Riley X M!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Hi, I saw someone in a search somewhere say there wasn't enough Ghost x M!Readers so I will remedy it <3 -Thorne

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Ghost couldn’t really call him a kid. Hell, he was only a few years younger than Soap was. But he was the newbie on the 141 and hadn’t seen a day of fighting in his life. Wet around the ears with nothing commendable in his file but a college degree and a few years working at a police department where Ghost suspected he was the janitor and not an officer. Ghost had no clue in hell why Price even got him selected for the team. He wasn’t even special forces of any kind. Just a seemingly plain human being. Cowardly too, he’d concluded. Ghost had watched Soap do training exercises with him just to see how decent he was, and the entire time they were in the ring, the newbie evaded every hit and never once struck out. The newbie couldn’t even fucking fire a gun correctly without shaking. Ghost and Soap had ultimately decided if there was ever a chance that would bring the newbie to battle with them, they’d die if their lives were in his hands.

How wrong he’d been.

It had only taken a week of running the newbie ragged before Ghost took the issue to Price; the Captain didn’t even look up when he barged into his office and, “The kid’s gotta go.”

“Why’s that?” Price asked, lifting the coffee cup to his lips, acting as if he had no idea why Ghost was pissed.

“He’s shit at fighting. He’s a liability. We’re fucked if he’s ever on the mission with us.”

He nodded in agreement. “True statements. He has no self-defense skills besides basic training and is potentially a liability.”

“Then why? If the 141 is made up of the best of the best, why is some fresh newbie here with us?”

Price looked at him. “Have you even sat down and talked to him? And I mean talk, not as Ghost, but as Simon. One human to another?”

“No.”

“Might I suggest trying that route?”

“He’s useless, Price.”

“To you. But you haven’t seen his abilities yet.”

“Like what?” Ghost scoffed. “Being a complete moronic coward?”

Price grinned and waved him off. “You’re dismissed Lieutenant.”

Ghost wanted to argue but his Captain’s voice booked no room for arguments, and he grunted, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him.

***

Ghost avoided the newbie like a plague. Let Soap and Gaz deal with him whenever he had questions or training. He was going to stand his ground on the issue, and he knew Price was going to agree and let the newbie go at some point, but for some god forsaken reason the kid stuck around despite it all.

He watched though. And he had to admit, what he lacked in ability and skill, he made up for in personality. Everyone liked him. He smiled and laughed and joked and brought a brightness to the team that Ghost hadn’t seen in quite some time. The 141 was men and women whose friendships were forged in battle and yet this kid, this useless newbie, brought out a light in their darkness. Ghost didn’t trust him, but he did respect him for it. He'd managed to get himself stuck on weapons cleaning with him though.

***

“Thanks for volunteering to help me clean equipment, Lieutenant,” the newbie said, dragging an oiled rag over the gun. “It would’ve taken me forever to clean all this by myself.”

Ghost’s hands had frozen on the knife he’d been sharpening, eyes narrowing as he connected the dots of the sudden shift in rotation of cleaning duty. Price. He thought and glared at the blade as he continued to sharpen.

“Sir, can I ask you a few questions? Nothing personal, of course, just…some things I’ve been wondering.”

Ghost grunted.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He racked the pistol a few times with a practiced ease, something that caught Ghost’s attention as he put the gun back together and disassembled the next with expert hands. “You don’t talk much. Not super friendly either. Then again, I understand the necessity of arm’s length in a job like this.” He started oiling the rag. “Why don’t you talk?”

Ghost saw his reflection in the silver of the knife. “If there’s nothing to say, why speak?”

“Hmm…you speak when you need to, quiet all else.” He continued wiping the gun down. “You remind me of my father. A man of many deeds, but few words.”

Ghost had watched him rack the gun again and put it together before starting on the third and that’s when he decided to ask, “How do you know how to clean weapons?”

The newbie looked up, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“You can’t shoot for shit, yet you can take apart and put together a gun in less than a minute.” Ghost carefully adjusted the knife in his grip, the motion not going unnoticed by either, especially when the newbie’s eyes flickered down and back up. “One chance,” was all he warned.

“Well done, Simon,” he chuckled, setting the gun down before reclining in his chair, hands behind his head as he leaned back. “It’s only taken you two months to figure out.”

Ghost watched him, eyes narrowed carefully.

“Name’s Renegade, at least that’s what the CIA calls me when they need me.” He seemed extremely nonchalant about admitting he was a spy. “Laswell’s my aunt. Adopted aunt of course, but still family. When I was looking for a transfer, she offered the 141 as a new station.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” he replied. “I’m counterterrorism, Simon. I hide away in secret places, slowly picking at regimes for information until I can stand back and watch them crumble internally. This little group seems like the perfect place to hide and run around with.”

“You’re a rat.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But I’m a well-paid rat who sleeps at night knowing he does what he’s supposed to.”

“How many innocents has your intelligence killed?” Ghost questioned and Renegade gave him a look.

“Probably as many as your hands have.” He waved a hand. “I’m not here to be liked Simon, and believe me, it’s obvious you don’t like me. You act like a constipated teenager the way you ignore me. Almost as if you like me.” Standing, he didn’t even flinch as Ghost did too. “But I am here as a counterintelligence officer under Laswell and Price, so you’ll just have to deal with it.” Ghost stood in his way of the door, and he simply tilted his head in exasperation. “Really? You’re gonna threaten me?”

“Oh no,” Ghost warned. “I don’t make threats.” He raised the knife, pointing it to Renegade’s throat. “I’m watching you.”

Renegade stepped closer until the knife dug into his skin and he flirted, “Oh, Simon, you can do more than watch. My door’s always open.” Winking, he bypassed Ghost and walked out of the door and Ghost threw the knife after him, planting it in the wall. “Missed me~”

***

The door slamming open startled both and Ghost griped, “You did not tell me he was fucking CIA.” His eyes found Laswell’s and he pointed at her. “He’s your fucking nephew, isn’t he?”

“What’s he done now?” Laswell sighed.

Ghost scoffed, throwing his hands in the air as he looked at the two of them. “You brought more CIA into the 141? Are you out of your fucking minds? He cannot be trusted.”

“Why’s that?” Price asked.

“Because there isn’t anything stopping the CIA from going rogue and doing fuck knows what because they feel like it. What if an offer of enemy secrets comes up in exchange for one of us? You really think he wouldn’t take it?” he glared at Price. “Really?”

Laswell sat up. “Renegade’s not a traitor, Lieutenant.”

“Right, as if the CIA isn’t a giant fucking organization built on traitors.”

By this time, Renegade had wandered up behind him. “No, Simon’s got a point. The CIA is notorious for having traitors in their ranks.” The three jumped as Renegade stepped inside and handed Laswell a file. “I don’t think your Lieutenant likes me much, Captain Price.”

“No shit,” he retorted and looked at the two of them, one glowering, the other a flirtatious smirk on his face. “Both of you, get out. Go sort this out somewhere I’m not. Simon, he’s here to stay. Renegade, if you lie to us or turn, I’ll pull your heart out your ass myself.”

“Duly noted,” Renegade commended.

“But Cap—”

“Go.”

***

Ghost stomped down the hallway with Renegade on his heels, and he could fucking feel the smirk on the spy’s face as he strode. “You really don’t like CIA, do you, Simon?”

He spun, backing Renegade up a wall as he growled, “Do not call me Simon.”

“Everyone else knows your name, Simon. It’s no secret.”

“My friends, know my name. You don’t know me.”

“I know everything about you,” he replied with a secretive smile. “I could probably tell you more about yourself than you even know.”

“You’re barking up the wrong fucking tree,” Ghost warned, slate eyes narrowed in coldness.

“Oh, I don’t bark,” Renegade countered. “Barking is for dogs who want attention. I bite. Much like you do.” He tipped his head to the side. “You’re like Batman, Ghost. Thriving off the fear of your prey. If they’re terrified of the shadows, you have the upper hand, but I am your Hal Jordan, Simon Riley. I am the man without fear, and I am not scared of you.”

Ghost glared at him, then the anger left his eyes, replaced by a stony indifference as he stood up straight; without a second glance, he left Renegade leaning against the wall, the spy’s words replaying in his head over and over and over again.

Oh ho, how wrong he’d been.

[henqtic]

sick day . xavier thorpe x black!reader . wc: 573.

summary: reader takes care of xavier when he gets sick.

prompt: "are you sure? i don't want you to get sick.." ( @novelbear​ )

·:*₊‧ masterlist . taglist form . request works . ·:*₊‧✩

Xavier knew his immune system was like an army run by a bunch of soft shelled turtles. The thought of going out to his art shed during subzero temperatures should never even have crossed his mind. The insulation in there was shit, and he didn’t even care to put on an actual winter coat, just the overpriced Nevermore hoodie thrown on top of his laundry basket.

Most of all, he knew you should’ve been telling him ‘I told you so’ when he texted you at six am, asking for cold medicine and complaining that he couldn’t breathe out of his nose.

But you were here, there actually, carrying enough blankets to cover your eyes.

His temperature had been fluctuating for the past three hours and now he was at his coldest. He’d wrap himself up in them like a burrito, only to get overheated once again — and throw them to the floor with a huff.

The cycle would repeat on and on throughout however long he’d stay sick this time — the only difference is, you wouldn’t be to his aid like a personal nurse.

You’d fed him the cough medicine, taken his temperature, kissed his rosey cheek, and gave him a final diagnosis of not showing up to classes.

“I think school starts in about thirty minutes, you should probably go get ready,” he noted, solemnly taking the blankets and plopping them onto his bed.

He grabbed onto your hands, weaving your fingers together as he gave you a soft, appreciative smile.

“Already?”

“Yeah, I guess caring for your sick boyfriend really makes the time fly.”

He attempted to laugh at his own ‘joke’, soon turning into a coughing fit as he turned his whole body away from you. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized without reason, empathizing with his weakened composure.

His throat was probably all sore and scratchy now.

“No, you don’t have anything to be sorry about, me being a dumbass isn’t your fault. Thank you for taking care of me baby, really. I think I’ll just nap.”

“Nap? Like. . . all day?”

“Yeah, I’ll get better quicker,” he shrugged, grabbing the remote off of his nightstand to turn on a ‘background music’ show.

It was his version of white noise.

“Oh. Well then scoot over, I’ll nap with you.”

“What?”

“I’m not gonna just leave you here,” your response was earnest, almost like what you were saying was common knowledge.

The soft confusion in his eyes further dampened his features.

He looked miserable when he was sick. Eyes all red, and bags all full. His face was most vacant of color, all drawn to his nose where he consistently blew it. Leaving him would be like watching a dog get kicked and letting it limp down the street.

“Are you sure? I don't want you to get sick,” he said cautiously, sitting up but not yet inviting you in.

“Yeah I’m sure. I don’t care about catching a cold, I care about you being cooped up in here with your terrible watch list.”

“My shows aren’t bad [ your name ], normal people aren’t willing to watch the same eight Harry Potter movies over and over again.”

You scoffed as you crawled in, wrapping your arms around him from behind. He’d never admit it, but being little spoon when he was sick was one of his favorite natural remedies.

“Your brains all foggy right now, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

🔖— !! @mollysolo​​ @pandoraneverland​​ @wxnderingthoughts​​​ @instabull​ 

༊ @henqticstudy​​ — follow and turn on notifications for this blog to only get notified when a work is posted ( or just fill out the taglist form )

thank you for reading, every single like and reblog is appreciated  🌷 !

[jisungsmochi]

helping you through a tough time

some scenarios where the dreamies would try to comfort you after you’ve been feeling down for a while

(lowkey was in my feels while writing so it may be a bit sad )): BUT THERES FLUFF I PROMISE)

//

mark:

mark is quite observant, so he had noticed that you weren’t being yourself lately. but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up with you. at times, he would try to make small jokes but it wasn’t enough to fully put a smile on your face.

“hey, where’s that smile i adore so much?”

you felt bad for making him worry, but you too weren’t even sure what was bothering you. you just thought that maybe life just felt overwhelming or you were just an emotional person. whatever it was, mark wanted to help you.

“i-i’m sorry for being so weird lately, something has to be wrong with me” his face immediately drops. he moved to he was sitting across from you, making sure you were looking right at him.

“don’t say that! you are entitled to feel however you feel, i just want to know how i can help” you saw the concern in his eyes and couldn’t contain how much admiration you had for him. you let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer to him, placing your head in his shoulder.

“i think just being in your company is enough to make me forget about everything else” his heart fluttered at your words.

“i’ll always be here for you” he placed his arm around you, gently stroking the surface of your shoulder.

“that’s all i need” you moved to place a soft kiss to his jaw as he switched on the tv.

the rest of the night was filled with him asking if you were okay, making sure you were comfortable, and a few kisses.

“if you ever need a night like this again, i better be the first person you call” mark mumbles as he plays with your hair while your head rested on his lap.

“i’ve got you on speed dial” you softly giggle as his heart warmed even more. he didn’t have to do much to comfort you. all he needed to do was be there. simple enough, just like many things in your relationship. mark hated confrontation and conflict, he hated not being able to help others. but he also realised he needs to let you come to him and explain what you need, to make things work.

renjun:

he immediately assumes that space would be the best remedy, since it’s what he would usually want. but you were different from renjun. you often overthought, making up worst case scenarios for every little thing that could possible happen in your life. renjun’s mind was more open that yours, that’s for sure. he never worried about many things, so seeing you being so quiet and reserved, raised much concern in him. usually you would meet him halfway with his rambling about random topics. but you hadn’t been engaging in much of your usual banter.

“hey babe, a-are you alright?” renjun sat down with you on your bedroom floor as you were typing an essay on your laptop.

“never better” he could tell you were being sarcastic.

“seriously, what’s up? you haven’t been chatty as usual” he moved to shut the screen of your laptop, moving it onto your bed. you knew you had to open up to him, but it was hard when you didn’t even know what was wrong.

“i just have this sinking feeling in my chest that something bad will happen. or i end up being a failure in life” you could barely look at him, but his shoulders suddenly fell. how could you say such things about yourself?

“y/n, you are one of the brightest people i’ve ever met. our conversations are truly one of a kind, i can never talk to anyone the way i do with you. you are in no way, shape or form, a failure. yes we make mistakes, but that’s because we’re young, we have to learn from them” you listened closely to every word that left his mouth. he’s always had such a way with words.

you immediately felt yourself tear up, allowing him to hold you close to his chest.

“i just want to do well, for me and for everyone else”

“and i’ll help you every step of the way, you’re not alone, okay?” you nodded as he pressed kisses to your forehead.

to you, renjun was a calmness during the storm.

jeno:

he would be confused when you don’t respond as enthusiastically as you usually would. at first he just assumes you’re having an off day due to your busy schedule, but then he noticed it had been going on for much longer than he liked to see.

“let’s go out tonight” he brought up to you, hugging you from behind. you just sighed, not feeling up for leaving your apartment.

“not tonight, maybe some other time” you try to pull away from him, but he was hesitant to let you go.

“is everything okay? did i do something? are you angry with me?” you immediately freeze, turning to face him as he still held you in his arms.

“no of course not, i’m not mad at all” you felt jeno’s grip relax, his composure becoming more calm.

“then why have you been so quiet lately?” he didn’t want to make it seem like he was trying to start an argument.

“i just haven’t been feeling the best. i cant really explain it with words” you shrug, bringing your hands to gently stroke the hair at the back of his head as he leaned in closer to you.

“well i don’t like seeing you like this. let me try to cheer you up, okay?” he pouted softly as you started getting emotional. you hadn’t had many relationships before, but you truly felt jeno could be the one. the way he cared so deeply about you, he would try to do anything to make sure you were happy.

“hmm a warm bath with you seems really tempting right now” you allow yourself to smile as jeno perks up.

“i like the sound of that! i’ll pour some fancy wine that jaemin got us a while ago! meet you in the tub” he quickly presses his lips to yours, pulling away to grab the wine glasses. you just shake your head in amusement, this was your life now. and you were beyond lucky to have jeno be a huge part of it.

haechan:

he would try his best to analyse the situation before he opens his mouth. he would usually crack some jokes, maybe nudge you softly if he saw that you were grumpy or in a mood. but something in his head told him you weren’t just having a bad day. it was unusual to see haechan be so quiet, so you end up asking him if he was alright.

“i’m fine, babe. i want to know if you’re alright though” the mood shifted, it become more still and serious. you gulped, your body feeling numb.

“i-i’m okay” you weakly answer, watching as he gave you a blank look. he knew you were lying, he knew you too well.

“please don’t lie to me” his voice became softer, he wanted nothing more than to see you laugh. he wanted to see your head fall back as you let out the most adorable laughs he had ever heard.

“i’m not sure what’s wrong. i just feel down, and i’m not sure how to get over it” your words shattered him. his mind was spiralling with ways to cheer you up.

“i’m all ears. i’m here for you, okay? anything you want to get off your chest, i’m here” he carefully held your hands in his own, gently rubbing his thumbs over the surface.

“i know, y-you’re amazing” you whispered, looking him in the eyes. he couldn’t help but smile at how you were looking at him. anything you did, could melt him into a puddle.

“i love you so much” he mumbled, moving closer to your face as he gently placed a kiss to your lips.

“i love you too” you mumbled against his lips.

the rest of the day, he made sure to do all your favourite activities, whether that was playing silly card games, baking cupcakes or mimicking cringy tv shows together. he was able to both cheer you up, and make you realise how inlove with him you actually were.

jaemin:

he would be hesitant to confront you head on, in the case that you weren’t even sad or mad. but something in his gut was telling him something was wrong. you hadn’t left your room all day, only a few times to eat something small before telling jaemin you had to finish an assignment. it was just past midnight when you heard jaemin knock at your door. he waited for your signal before entering, eyes landing on your sitting on your bed. he noticed you had a few tissues on your bedside table, your eyes were slightly puffy and your face looked flushed.

“love...what’s going on?” he whispered to himself, walking over to snuggle in bed with you.

“just not having the best days lately” you shrugged, letting out a small sniffle. although jaemin found you adorable right now, he felt bad that he didn’t bring it up earlier.

“have you been crying?” you almost didn’t want to answer, but you knew he could tell. you slowly nodded, refusing to face him. jaemin just sighed, moving your head to lay on his shoulder.

“i want you to cry on my shoulder the next time you’re upset. it’s reserved just for you” jaemin smiled at his own words, watching as a small smile landed on your face.

“i should have come to you earlier, i didn’t want to burden you with my overwhelming emotions” he looked at you, confused.

“babe, you’re not a burden to me at all. why do you feel bad for having emotions, hm?” jaemin nudges you off his shoulder, shifting to place his hands to the sides of your face. another tear left your eye as you finally looked at him. he was so worried. he was deeply inlove.

“i’ve always been like this” you whispered as he wiped the tears from your face.

“well, i’m here to help you, so please let me know what i can do” you weren’t even thinking before you kissed him.

“ah now i know” he joked before kissing you back.

you regretted not opening up to jaemin, but you sure as hell don’t regret kissing him. you hoped this feeling never stopped.

chenle:

he’d be quite clueless with how to ask you how you were feeling. you both didn’t take these things seriously. it was rare you had any heated arguments or moments to talk deeply about your feelings, since you started dating. but there’s a first time for everything. chenle, himself, wasn’t the most transparent person in the world. he didn’t like to let others know if he was struggling, so you were both similar in that way. chenle took it upon himself to ask you how you were doing, he wanted to be like how he wished someone would approach him.

“h-hey, i’ve noticed you’ve kind of been out of it lately, i just want to make sure that things are okay” he seated you down after you declined going to the weekly dreamies hangout.

you froze at his words, how were you meant to respond? do you take the easy way out and just shut it down or do you be transparent?

he could practically see the cogs spinning in your mind.

“well personally, whenever i’m feeling out of it, i like to talk to you. you make me laugh with your dumb jokes and your rambling makes me start rambling too, if that makes sense” you knew what he was doing, he was trying to get you to open up, to rely on him.

“i like talking to you too...seeing you always makes my day” you slowly ease into the conversation, the atmosphere instantly becoming more calm. chenle nodded, urging you to continue,

“i’ve been dealing with some insecurities. it has nothing to do with us or our relationship, just me” you shrugged, watching as chenle listened closely to you. he wanted to understand every part of you, the way you feel, the way you thought about things in life.

“as relieved i am to hear you’re not having doubts about us, i can’t help but worry. as your boyfriend, i want to help you, could you let me do that?” chenle felt like he might have been asking for too much but you didn’t think that at all.

“o-of course. i just wasn’t sure when the right time was to get this deep with you” you admitted, chenle finally understood. it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, but rather your fear he might not understand you.

“well i’m all ears, i’ll be more than happy to let you into my own thoughts too” the rest of the night was filled with deep conversations until the early hours of the morning. you felt asleep in his arms, feeling happier than you had ever been.

jisung:

he’s not as clueless as people think he is. he is aware of other people’s emotions, but just felt awkward talking about it. but being in a relationship served as a test for jisung. was he ready to delve into his own emotions while also caring for someone else’s?

after you shrugged off one of his hugs, he was beyond stunned. obviously you were entitled to deny affection if you weren’t feeling it, but it was the first time it had happened in your relationship. he wasn’t sure how to react. he watched as you slumped yourself on the couch, wrapping yourself in your favourite blanket as you stared aimlessly at the tv. jisung paced back and forth in the kitchen, wondering if he would be able to help you feel better. he scrambled through the cabinets, preparing you a matcha latte. he noticed you drank it whenever you were stressed or needed to calm down. so why not now?

“i-i made this for you” he slowly placed the warm drink on the coffee table, causing you to sit up.

“thanks sungie” you look at him, signalling for him to sit down next to you.

“are you feeling okay? did something happen today? you know you can tell me anything” you were slightly taken back by his straight forward words. but you were appreciative of his concern.

“ah well, today wasn’t the best day. actually, i’ve been feeling quite empty lately. i’m not too sure why, do you get that too?” you carefully took a sip of the warm drink, sighing at how good it tasted.

“sometimes i guess. like nothing in the world really matters. i mean we’re just on some floating rock! and we’re expected to be successful and happy at the same time, it’s kind of hard to imagine” he suddenly felt a weight, he didn’t even know was there, lift off his shoulders.

“exactly! that’s how i’ve been feeling too. i just keep it all inside, i’m not sure why” you leant back on the couch, jisung copied your movements. he snuggled close to you, basically enveloping you in a warm hug.

“i think it’s nice that we can talk like this. you’re the only person i want to talk to about these things” he admitted, his breath fanning over your cheek. your noses softly brushed against eachother, making you both giggle.

“same here” you move to kiss him, quickly pulling away. but jisung pulls your right back into him. you didn’t have to feel so alone, neither did jisung. you felt you could navigate this relationship, and life, together.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Only You - Prologue

Word Count : 2306

Warnings : swearing, toxic parents

Story Masterlist

Taglist : @yellowroseskolchek @whatudowhennooneseesyou @perfectlysane24 @rebelspy @missmustachejelly @baguette-atiny @almost--legal @nevieatiny @mxnxmistic

“My name is Y/n, but everyone calls me Ivy.” She introduced herself with a wide smile, holding out her hand to the two men who are now her coworkers. The taller of the two mirrored her smile and shook her hand with excitement.

            “I’m Yunho, your future best friend.” She giggled to herself, knowing Sunflower would never let her replace her.

            “You try telling my current best friend that. She’ll have your head.” Ivy joked with him which caused the shorter of the two to stifle a laugh. Both hers and Yunho’s heads whipped to look at him, causing his face to go red.

            “I uh … I’m Yeosang.” He didn’t shake her hand. He barely looked at her, which made her feel like he already didn’t like her.

            “I can’t believe you would betray our family like this, Y/n.” Her mom said as the two sat across from each other. “What would your father say?” They both knew. They didn’t need to say it out loud, because they both knew exactly what he would say. Exactly what he would do.

            “I said I wanted an iced coffee.” The customer complained, immediately throwing the cup of freshly made hot coffee towards her. “If you can’t even make a simple fucking iced coffee, get a job elsewhere you incompetent bitch!” The yelling customer caught the attention of all the patrons sitting and enjoying their coffee. She tried to blink back her tears and remedy the situation before Yeosang got involved, knowing he wouldn’t be happy that she messed up again.

            “I am so sorry. I’ll give you a refund and make your iced coffee immediately.” She walked towards the register to take the cash out, but a hand grabbed hers and stopped her actions.

            “You will do no such thing.” Her eyes met Yeosang’s. She’s seen him upset a handful of times, mostly at her. But the look he held in his eyes this time was different. He was pissed, but he wasn’t pissed at her. His gaze was directed at the customer. “We do not condone abuse here at Wonderland Café. So I will have to ask you to leave before I call the cops.” Yeosang told the customer.

            “Are you fucking serious right now? I paid for an iced coffee. I want my fucking iced coffee.”

            “If you would have nicely told my coworker here that, we would have gladly remade your drink. Instead, you physically attacked her. So if you want an iced coffee, you’re going to have to go somewhere else. I hope I never see your face again.” She couldn’t look away from him as he calmly told this customer off. She couldn’t help the heat making its way to her cheeks, or the way her heart kept speeding up. “Follow me.” Yeosang told her softly, but she didn’t hear it over the pounding of her heart in her ears. When he noticed she didn’t follow, he walked back towards her, sliding his hand into hers, lacing their fingers, and pulling her behind him to the break room.

            “I am so sorry, Yeosang.” She cried, finally allowing the tears to roll down her cheeks. And then she felt her arms, legs, and stomach begin to burn. That’s when she noticed the coffee that was now staining her outfit. The customer had impeccable aim.

            “Don’t apologize. She didn’t order an iced coffee. She’s just a bitch.” He grabbed both of their things before popping into the owner’s office, asking for permission to take Ivy to the hospital. The owner emerged from her office; concern laced in her eyes as she gave Ivy a once over.

            “Oh dear. Please tell me it was an iced coffee.” Yeosang shook his head. “Then what are you two still doing here! Get her to an emergency room. Both of you take tomorrow and the next day off too.” She shooed them out before taking their place behind the counter.

            “You don’t have to do this. I know you don’t like me very much. I can go myself.” She reached for her stuff, but Yeosang refused to give them to her, instead tossing them into the backseat of his car before opening the passenger side door. “Yeosang.”

            “Get in the car, Ivy. I’m not letting you do this alone, okay?” She quickly obliged and got into his car. “And for the record, I don’t hate you.” He said once he got into the driver’s seat. “I just get shy around pretty girls.”

            “I’m sorry, mom.” She said, barely able to meet her mother’s eyes. Without looking, she knew the look of disappointment her mother held in her eyes.

            “Have your fun for now. But that’s all this is, okay? A fun pass time.” Ivy nodded.

            “Here’s some medication to help with the pain, and a doctor’s note for your boss saying you need a week off. I recommend that when you go back, you stay away from anything hot for at least two additional weeks.”

            “Did you hear that, Yeosang. I have to stay away from you.” She said, still loopy from the drugs they gave her to help with the pain. The doctor chuckled, telling Yeosang his girlfriend was adorable.

            “Yeah, I know.” Yeosang responded to the doctor, knowing Ivy would never remember this. “Thanks for all your help, doctor.” He carefully took Ivy’s hand and the two left the hospital. He helped her get in the car and buckle her seatbelt. As he was leaned across her buckling her seatbelt, she poked his cheek and giggle.

            “So handsome.” Yeosang felt the heat rise to his cheeks, so he quickly finished what he was doing and got into the driver’s seat. He couldn’t help but think about how cute she was like this. He wondered when things began to change. When it stopped being about how pretty she was and was about his growing feelings instead. He knew she was the only girl in the world he couldn’t have. How his dad would disown him if he ever found out he was falling for his family’s only enemy.

            “I’m going to swing by the café quickly to give the owner your doctor’s note, then I’ll drive you home.” Ivy wouldn’t look away from him, studying everything about him as he drove. He tried not to let it bother him. “Do you have someone at home to take care of you?”

            “What if I wanted you to be the one to take care of me?” She giggled. Yeosang smiled when he glanced over at her. And he knew in that moment that she had him wrapped around her finger.

            “Then I guess I’ll have to take care of you.”

            “You know I’ll have to tell your brother and father about this, right? They might not be as understanding.”

            “Wooyoung already knows.” Ivy responded before taking another bite of her food. “He found out.” She added.

            “Hey idiot! I went to the café but the giant puppy behind the counter said you had the week off!” Yeosang looked over to Ivy, wondering who this strange man walking into her house was. Has she had a boyfriend this entire time? He felt like he needed to hide. And maybe he should have, but not because he was the other man. Because the person rounding the corner into the living room where the two were, was her brother. “What the fuck, Y/n.”

            “Listen, Woo, I can explain.” She jumped up from the couch, immediately going into defense mode.

            “Why do you have so many bandages on?” Wooyoung rushed to her, inspecting her arms as best he could without hurting her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? I would have come to take care of you.” Yeosang stood up from where he was sitting to introduce himself to Wooyoung.

            “It was just an accident at work. Yeosang has been taking care of me, so you don’t have to worry.” Wooyoung finally noticed the other man, recognizing him immediately.

            “Don’t listen to her. It wasn’t an accident. A customer threw a cup of hot coffee at her.” Ivy shot him a look as if to tell him that Wooyoung didn’t need to know. Yeosang expected Wooyoung’s attention to go back to Ivy, but his hardened glare did not leave him. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. She asked me to stay, but now that you’re here, I can go.” Ivy wrapped her hands around one of his forearms, asking him to stay. His brain was yelling at him to leave, knowing this man had to be her brother, and he knew he recognized him. It would be the smart thing to do.

            “You said you were going to go, so get out.” But Yeosang met Ivy’s eyes. He knew she wanted him to stay. She pleaded with her eyes, and though he should leave, his heart tells him to stay. “Y/n, have you lost your mind? Did the coffee get into your brain?! Him and his family are the enemy!”

            “But I like him.” She pouted. Yeosang’s eyes widened at her sudden confession. He should have seen it coming considering the kiss they shared before Wooyoung walked in, but it still took him by surprise. “I want him, Woo.” Wooyoung looked back to his sister, his face softening at her pout.

            “I like her too.” Yeosang spoke up. “I know our families hate each other, but I promise I would never hurt her.” She looked up at him with a soft smile. Wooyoung so badly wanted to stop this from happening, but he could tell the amount of care the two held for each other.

            “You need to tell mom. If she approves, I’ll give him a chance. For now though, Kang Yeosang, get the fuck out. I will take care of my sister.”

            “Wooyoung.” He shot her a glare, and she knew she couldn’t fight him on this. “I’ll see you when I’m back at work in a couple days.” She told Yeosang, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t be. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

            “What was his reaction?”

            “He wasn’t happy.”

            “What a loyal son I have.” Her mother beamed as she took a sip of her drink. “You could learn from him.”

            “Let’s go on our first date after we close.” Yeosang whispered into her ear as she situated herself behind the register. She smiled at him, quickly agreeing. Yunho looked between the two of them, wondering what happened to cause such a change in the air surrounding them.

            “See you guys tomorrow!” Yunho said, waving goodbye to Ivy and Yeosang, who continued their closing duties. They softly sang along to the music and they closed, stealing glances towards each other, before finishing everything.

            Before she could go to the back to grab her things, Yeosang stopped her, grabbing her hand, and leading her to a table that was now set up with two coffees and two pastries, with a single candle in the center. “Are you okay having our date here? I can take you somewhere else if this isn’t enough. Ah geez, it’s horrible isn’t it? Fuck it, let’s go somewhere else.” She placed her hand over his lips as he tried to blow out the candle.

            “Kang Yeosang, this is absolutely the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me.” She beamed at him, causing Yeosang to blush.

            “Well then, shall we?” He pulled out a chair for her, pushing it closer to the table as she sat down. The awkward air of a first date didn’t surround them. It was comfortable. It was this moment that they both realized that they were going to fall harder than they ever have before. This was their person.

            Banging at the glass door pulled them out of their little world. Turning, they saw Wooyoung standing there with a look of anger and disappointment. “Ignore him. It’s not like he can get in anyway.” Ivy told Yeosang, hoping to continue their date. But Yeosang shook his head.

            “I don’t want him to hate me more than he already does. You should go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

            “I actually have an appointment to check on the burns. I won’t be in until the afternoon. You’re opening with Yunho tomorrow.” Yeosang almost forgot about the burns she received two weeks previous. There were seemingly no marks on the skin he could see. But her legs did receive the brunt of the attack.

            “Okay fine, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. But right now, you need to go with you brother.”

            Her and her mother went their separate ways with nothing but a quickly spoken goodbye. Her mom didn’t even realize that the car she got into was driven by Yeosang. “You didn’t have to drive me, you know.” Yeosang reached over and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together.

            “We barely get to spend time together outside of work, so I will take any opportunity to see you.” Her heart melted at how adorable he was being. He brought her hand to his lips to place a quick kiss to the back of her hand.

            “I’ll talk to Wooyoung.” She told him. He shook his head.

            “It’s okay. I know why he’s being like this. I just hope he’ll see that I meant it when I said I would never hurt you.” The words were on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say them, but she also didn’t want to scare him. It’s only been a month since they officially started dating. How could she tell him she loved him?

            “Well, mom just gave her approval. For now anyway. And Wooyoung always keeps his word, so things are bound to change.”            

Little did they know just how much things were about to change.

[solomonish]

Way To Go MC, You’ve Allowed Yourself to be Poisoned (Demon Brothers)

CW for: descriptions of food and eating, brief descriptions of choking-like symptoms. (mainly in the intro, though the individual stories mention coughing, (light) blood and fainting). there will be talk of food and keeping an eye on what is being eaten in the individual character stories as well.

Ahh thank you nonnie! I got tired and stopped at the demon brothers but I’ll finish the nowdateables later if you want! Which let’s be real, I’ll probably do soon because I wanna write for Solomon lol

I hope you like it!

---

It started off like any other night, with you grabbing a seat at the dinner table as the last of the food was placed in the middle. Someone beside you took your plate and gave you your portion for you, smiling at your murmur of thanks as they set it down. You waited until the last person, Levi, sat down, smiling at him as he muttered something about finishing a level to nobody in particular. 

The moment you ate your first bite of food, something felt...off. Your tongue was tingling the slightest bit and you swore you could feel an uncomfortable heat follow the food as it slid down your throat. Thinking it was just a weird Devildom spice - after all, you’ve been here for how long? and nothing has happened yet? - you take another bite and immediately regret it.

Though such a food was no big deal for demons, it was powerful enough to knock you out of your chair and hunch over, grabbing your stomach as you cough forcefully in a desperate attempt to get the food out. Your insides were burning, your airways closing in and your chest crying out in pain the more you coughed. Soon enough, tears clouded your vision, and though you could hear the chaos around you, the only thing you could focus on was what felt like fire burning you from the inside out.

When you start coughing:

The moment you let out a little cough, his eyes are on you curiously. It’s just a remnant of the days when you were still so new to it all: the fragile little human makes a strange noise, be prepared to save a life.

He almost let his eyes fall from you, but he noticed that you weren’t stopping. It wasn’t the first time you had caused a scene at dinner, saying something afterwards about it “going down the wrong tube.” Still, this seemed...different.

When you fall off of your chair, he’s out of his before you even hit the ground. He’s kneeling by your side a second later, trying to tilt your head towards him so he can fully understand what is happening.

He finally realizes that you aren’t just choking and this is much more urgent when the blood starts coming out of your mouth.

He takes his attention away from you for a moment to ask who cooked dinner, and the brothers promptly rat out Mammon.

Though Lucifer is clearly agitated at that, he decides to lecture later and instead ask what Mammon put in the dish. Everyone erupts at once about halfway through because “How could you have forgotten what that will do to a human??”

That’s the last thing you remember for yourself - whether from the poison itself or being unable to breath through all your coughing, you passed out fairly quickly afterwards

Taking care of you afterwards:

Lucifer isn’t the type to panic in the moment. He’s very accustomed to taking the lead and having everything under control.

That’s in the moment, though. When he has Satan mix up the remedial potion, he’s fine, checking over you and keeping his brothers a safe distance away while he makes sure you’re still breathing. Once you’re safely in bed, brothers having been banned from your room until at least morning, and he’s the only one left lingering in the doorway, that’s when it all begins to set in.

There’s less regret and more general uncertainty in these moments - it starts with him wondering if he should really leave you alone, and soon enough it spirals into him reminding himself just how careful he needs to be with you in the Devildom. (And really, after taking charge of seven demon lords on accident, isn’t it just like you to get killed by a spicy leaf? Honestly, he should’ve known better.)

Once you finally do wake up, he tries to act like his normal “down to business” self - “I’ve told my brothers they are not to overwhelm you today, though we both know how that will go. I’ve made Leviathan figure out what bland foods are safe for humans, you’ll have to take it easy for now as your stomach is still irritated. Let me know immediately if you feel woozy or nauseous for any reason-” He prattles on and on, and though you’ve stopped paying attention you can still feel the softness in his tone

He tries to be gentle with you, and you have to remind him that you were just poisoned, not bedridden for months. Sometimes he’ll shoot you a glare and try to justify himself by saying it’s just like you to make another foolish mistake, but others he just won’t say anything and will keep the hand he has placed on your lower back “for safety”

Firmly believes in establishing as many preventative measures to keep this from happening again, so the next few weeks are going to be....a lot.

Sets up an alarm so he can remind you every lunch not to pick any of the “not safe for humans” options. Probably also gets you a seat in a class that goes over poisonous plants in the Devildom. 

Do not try to skip this. It’s easier for everyone if you just let him ease his mind how he likes.

When you start coughing:

At first, Mammon assumes that you just heard the joke he made and (naturally) started laughing so hard your weird little human body couldn’t take it

So essentially, you start choking and he starts laughing at you thinking you’re laughing together

That all stops the moment you fall out of your chair and double over, suddenly dry heaving on the floor.

He sort of short-circuits for a second, not entirely sure what to do until one of the more knowledgeable brothers stoops down beside you

They tell him to just keep your airways clear and make sure you’re still breathing while they go to get the elixir they need, and he does. It’s one of the few times they see him so serious - he just doesn’t want to mess up, so he doesn’t focus on any of their comments or bite back

(”Gee, Mammon’s actually stepping up for once” “Yeah, too bad he was the one that poisoned them in the first place”) 

(Lucifer: he WHAT)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Mammon is usually the first thing you see in the morning, so that doesn’t come as a surprise. What does surprise you is how quiet he’s being. 

When you sit up and groggily ask, “Is something wrong?” (barely getting the words through your swollen lips) he is torn between trying to say something smooth (”N-not now that you’re okay!! not that i care....”) or calling you a dumb human. So instead he just stares at you

Eventually you can get it out of him what happened, and it explains why your face feels like it had been burned and your stomach feels gross

Mammon says he’s going to come up with a surefire way to protect you so nothing like this ever happens again, but his version of protecting you is sticking by your side 24/7 and he already does that so?

You’re the one that’s going to have to take the lead. Make a list of common ingredients that are SUPER deadly to humans and make sure you both have one for reference

Soon enough, though, he figures out how he can help you without your guidance and you catch him pointing out what’s safe without you having to ask

He follows you to the lunch line and examines the clear plastic boxes until he can point out a few human-safe options. He’ll bend to whisper in your ear in line at some fast-food joint. If you’re not sure, he’ll be the first to ask before you even remember that’s something you should be doing anyway.

He’ll even try to make dishes he thinks you’ll like without the poisonous ingredient! Sometimes it takes a few tries but if he wants you to try something with him, he WILL make it himself

When it comes to you, Mammon really will give you the best care he can. Sometimes he just needs that extra push to think things through.

(And if this wasn’t a push. a hard shove. over a cliff. into shark infested waters)

(don’t do this again, mc. his demon heart can’t take it)

When you start coughing:

Levi has never mentioned how his brother don’t normally speak much to him at dinner and he’s just learned to be highly attuned to you. He notices a lot of little things you do, and is normally the first to realize when you’re choking or something.

That’s why, when you start coughing this time, he is the first one to panic. He knows that that isn’t a normal cough, he just doesn’t know what to do about it.

He looks down at his plate and realizes what’s on it, something he cries out right when you fall to the ground, clutching your stomach. You’re on the other side of the table and his brothers are already crowding around you, so Levi doesn’t get to see the blood and can only hear your coughing.

When your coughing gets weaker as you faint, he freaks. the. fuck. out. Did you die?? Even as he tries to look over his brother’s shoulders, he can’t get a good grasp of what happened until somebody tells him.

(It doesn’t matter much though. He’s still stuck in a loop of wondering what he could’ve done if he had gotten to dinner sooner, if he had managed to score a coveted seat next to you, if he had just looked at his plate or offered to take over for Mammon...)

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up in your bed and Lucifer is the one who comes in, asking you how you feel and if you’re up to classes to die. 

Being poisoned sure does take a lot out of you, so you ask to stay. Lucifer gives a quick nod and warns you not to shirk your duties, wishing you a fast recovery and letting you know that (human safe) food has been set aside specifically for you.

You doze off soon after (hey, a sick day may as well be spent sleeping in, right?) and when you wake up, somebody else is there, looking at you with inquisitive orange eyes and nearly scaring you half to death.

When you scream, he screams, backing up into your dresser and knocking some of the things off of it. 

“I-I’m sorry-! I was just- told to check up on you- just in c-case....I’ll leave now!”

Boy’s gonna make you chase after him when you’re basically sick smh

If you go to his room and demand to be let in, he will - and he’ll let you stay under the guise of “well if you have to check on me every hour it’ll be less of a hassle if I just stay here...”

You won’t be able to get him to say he feels guilty for letting this happen, but when you pick up on the signs ensure him that he’s doing fine taking care of you. HIs cool room helps soothe your mouth (which is still a little irritated), and you’re honored he has an alarm set to check up on you

You know he’s feeling better about it all when an alarm goes off and he just asks “Hey you good?” and he chuckles a little bit when you respond “Hold on I gotta check my own pulse....... yeah i think i’m good”

Overall he is worried but he doesn’t know how to communicate it? So it’s a lot of quick, worried glances and double checking nutrition facts on packages before he hands them to you.

He kind of leaves you to your own devices, but he does send you worried glances every now and then until you’re recovered. He also makes it a point, when Mammon’s on dinner duty, to tell him exactly how he prepared the meal, though you don’t know if it’s for your sake or just to bother him. Probably both.

When you start coughing:

Satan has taken to leaving his books in his room for most dinner and talks to you in their place, so he notices what’s in the dish pretty quickly.

However, the second step of realizing what it could do to a human doesn’t quite hit him until you’re already on your second bite.

He reaches out to grab your wrist anyway, watching you cough while also staring at him in confusion. As he watches your face redden and your mouth swell, you take your wrist from his grasp and cover your mouth with your hand.

He’s the one who knows what to do, so he appoints someone to keep and eye on you while he runs (yes, runs, but he’ll act all cool about it if his brothers bring it up later) to his room to get some potion that’ll (hopefully) negate the effects

(Don’t let him hear me say this but) he’s similar to Lucifer in that he’s very level-headed when it happens - somebody needs to be focused on the cure when some of his more dramatic brothers are screaming (looking at you, Mammon and Asmo)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Satan might be the best at taking care of you, but he’s probably also the least fun.

Once he realized a while ago how fragile a human could be (and that he was interested in actually keeping you alive rather than just watching how long it takes for something to hurt you), he put in an effort to read up on how to help a poisoned human in the Devildom.

He knows how you must be feeling, and he offers you soothing teas or even a (human safe!) numbing lip balm to help you out.

(He finds great pleasure in how ridiculous you look, now that the danger’s passed - though he won’t tell you outright, you can tell it by the amused grin he isn’t even trying to hide)

Don’t be surprised if you catch him eyeing your plates of food for a while after the incident, and any time you catch him in the act he’ll look at you, take a drink out of the nearest cup and lift his eyebrows in a weird little acknowledgment that he’s been caught before saying “It looks tasty.”

Overall, he’s the standard amount of worried? Even though he will take every opportunity to tease you about how you looked afterwards or how feeble you are to be taken down by something so small (jokingly), he won’t ever get out of the habit of double checking your food to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

When you start coughing:

Asmodeus eyes you warily when you start coughing, but continues with his entertaining until you hit the ground.

He’s by your side in an instant, hands hovering over you as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself (he doesn’t).

He doesn’t remember calling for Satan, but Satan is the one who kneels by you, so maybe he does? His focus is on you and deciding on something he can do to help.

This ends up shielding your face, puffy and a mess from your tears and retching, from the others who are all peering over at you in concern. He knows it’s not the most pressing detail, but he figures that maybe he can preserve your dignity a little bit, no?

He follows the action with his hands covering his mouth nervously, watching as they have to force a potion down your throat now that you’re unconscious. He’s allowed to stay by you once they determine that you’re safe since he normally doesn’t cause too much of a fuss - not when he looks as pale and miserable as he does now, anyway.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s not too experienced in the healthcare field, but boy does he know self care! He knows how to get your skin feeling less gross after the rather...irritable reaction it had and the best way to rest is if you feel totally physically relaxed, right?

For a while, if your stomach still feels like it’s churning or you’re otherwise unfocused, he’s the first to defend you from anybody who thinks you’re overreacting. 

Also makes sure nobody outside of the house knows how...unsightly of an ordeal it was. He isn’t shaming you internally or anything, but he’d loathe to have such an unpretty picture in people’s heads when you’ve been nothing but showstopping the whole time beforehand!

Will make sure to grab a seat across from you juuust before you take a bite for a while. It doesn’t matter if he’s across the room in the middle of a story or if you’re at a cafe with someone else and he’s still home. You’ll find him sliding in wordlessly to the seat across from you and watching you intently, making sure you’re eating something that isn’t going to burn you from the inside out.

Has multiple websites bookmarked on his D.D.D. that tell him what is poisonous to you and makes sure YOU are aware of what you’re putting inside your body before you eat it. He seems to genuinely think you’ll forget to save yourself from such a life-threatening situation, but the pout he gives you when you try to get him to stop is enough to convince you to live with it.

When you start coughing:

When you start coughing, he reaches over and starts patting your back absently in the way that usually helps.

He notices the way you grasp onto the table in an attempt to keep yourself up, coughing into your other hand as it gets worse by the second. When you almost slip off, he reaches out to catch you before you hit to floor

Is ready to do the Heimlich when one of his brothers stops him because 1) he’d probably snap you in half, and 2) that’s not what’s happening

He watches blankly as Satan approaches him, laying you down gently as instructed. That’s probably worse, watching you writhe on the floor like that.

He’s the one instructed to help hold you down so they can feed you the potion cure. He wants to hold your hand but it’s covered in blood, and he doesn’t want to risk loosening his grip on you and you somehow spilling it.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s the one most shaken up about the whole ordeal, I’d think? While the others are definitely worried he’s the one that has the BIGGEST problem with the feeling of helplessness so I think it would bring back some memories

He definitely keeps a watchful eye over you until you can tell him coherently that you’re okay, and even then he’s still treating you like porcelain for a short while

He can’t help it! Any time he’s reminded of just how frail you can be (and how unexpectedly something horrible can happen) he just...needs a few gentle moments to collect his thoughts.

Does NOT want you even looking at anything that has that plant in it (or anything else poisonous for that matter). Will straight up eat an entire dish from the pan if you give it a glance that he thinks means you’re thinking about eating it. He can usually get away with it since that’s similar to what he already does, but every now and then you see the look in his eyes and wonder if there’s something more to it

He’ll warn you in the future if he knows something is poisonous, but if you’re trying something new he’ll automatically ask you “Can you eat that?” If he doesn’t know, he can at least remind you to check for yourself.

When you start coughing:

Very few things can snap Belphegor out of a drowsy dinner stupor. You suddenly falling on the floor and coughing your insides out is one of the things that can.

If his brothers weren’t so concerned with you, they’d have a few quips about how quickly he startled awake

The first thing he does is dart his eyes back to the table, where he quickly realizes that they just inadvertently poisoned you. When he turns back, it seems the others have already come to that conclusion and someone is running off to help you

He knows that he doesn’t have much to offer in terms of help, but he will tear somebody (Mammon) away from you and kneel next to Beel.

He keeps himself under control by comforting Beel as he holds you down. 

There’s definitely a sick feeling in his stomach, something familiar about you lying on the floor and bleeding that he doesn’t like. He pretends to be averting his eyes at the sight of them forcing a potion down your throat and not some regrettable memory.

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up and Belphie is curled up next to you in your bed. Nobody else is in the house and it’s 3 PM. You feel gross and you can’t reach your phone to actually confirm what time it is and you have no idea what the fuck is going on until he wakes up

Which he does, after you poke and prod him enough and he’s very grumpy about it

“yeesh, you get poisoned and suddenly you think you’re the princess of the devildom”

“I get WHAT”

Definitely is planning to get Mammon back tenfold

He tries to act nonchalant about it but he does keep waking up ever few hours and lifts his head to like. check that you’re good for the first day or so. 

Sometimes he gets this sad look in his eyes and you have to smooth his hair back and reassure him that everything’s okay. It works a little but if he thinks he can trick you by pretending to sleep and then steal a few moments where he can Brood on his own while STILL cuddled up next to you, he will.

Suddenly takes an interest in what you’re eating. Every day. Every meal. 

He doesn’t go to check on you but he does text you a few minutes before lunch or if you’re getting dinner somewhere other than the house “What are you planning on eating?”

Gets real huffy if you don’t give him a straight answer. Usually will respond with a “Whatever don’t get yourself almost killed again”

If you decide to get cheeky and answer “Probably straight poison, like right out of the mysterious bottle with a skull on it” he will just say “ugh, sounds like you. have fun.”

“...”

“...”

“...seriously, don’t do that mc.”

he sets alarms to wake up so he can make sure you don’t ingest literal poison be a little nice to him please

[fe-fictions]

Where? ~oh~ where? Have those Henry fics gone?~ I needs my crowman

(I've got some Henry taking care of Robin and Morgan when they get sick! Huge thanks to @zankavogue , who compiled a huge archive of fics from the deactivated blog! I'll be reuploading as many as possible!!! U V U)

The family had taken a brief, albeit very fun and relaxing, trip in Plegia. Morgan being only eight months old certainly made things interesting. Having the whole family there to enjoy the beauty of Plegia outside war time was fun.

Plus, you were both Plegians, so it was nice to learn about your roots.

It was a magical time. Or at least, it would have been. You woke up the morning after you came home and found yourself unable to get out of bed.

You had a fever, your head was pounding, and you were a snotty mess of misery. Henry was amused until he heard baby Morgan bawling down the hall. You both caught, according to your husband, the Plegian swine flu.

No one was immune from it, not even sweet, innocent little blood bags like Morgan (Henry’s words, not yours).

So Henry quickly went from teasing you and being fascinated by how miserable you were to going into full-blown panic.

Like any disease, a baby catching it had a higher risk of complications. Most recover, Henry explained while frantically scribbling an urgent letter for Maribelle to tie to one of his crows, but itty bitty babies could suffer serious health problems.

Henry got to work on preparing you a bucket of cold water, a second bucket for the kerchiefs you would be blowing your nose into all day, and a third bucket in case you couldn’t keep your food down.

You didn’t.

“Gods, Henry- did you have to send that filthy animal to me? I’m literally down the block! It would take you fifteen minutes to-”

“Fifteen minutes is a waste of time! Morgan and Robin could be dead by then! And if it’s either of them, it’s no joke, nya ha!”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“It’s nervous laughter!” He chuckled again, though judging by how pale his face was, it seemed to be true. 

Maribelle simply scoffed and hurried to the bedroom, ready to treat her friend.

“Robin, darling! Oh, you look positively ghastly!” She gasped, drawing the mask over her mouth and nose. She pulled on her medical gloves, a stave at her side and a big pouch of herbs on her belt. “The Plegian swine flu is no joke...it’s very rarely found in Ylisse, but when it travels with you…”

“I-it’s a disaster.” You wheezed, not before you were overcome by coughing. “Anything y-you can do will be a welcome remedy.”

“Luckily for you, there’s nothing here that herbs and plenty of rest won’t fix. Now Morgan might be a little trickier, given his age...but we can at least get started with you.”

Maribelle was quick to send  Henry off to grind up the herbs, preparing some disgusting concoction guaranteed to get your body back to normal.

Presuming Henry could put it together.

“Now, when did you start to feel ill?”

“W-well, if I’m honest… It started around-”

Crash

“Ah, gods- I broke the cup!!”

“-The time we got home, last night. It was late-”

Smash

“The pestle’s shattered!!”

“-And I just thought I was tired, but...my head feels about the same as-”

Bang

“The herbs are everywhere!!”

“HENRY!!” Maribelle shouted out the door, “What in the gods’ names are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a mess!” Henry apologized, his voice shaky and unsure. “I-I just meant to help a bit, but it looks like I’m making things worse, nya ha!”

“Why don’t you come and sit,” Maribelle pinched  her brow, “Just settle down until you stop breaking things.” 

You watched as Henry wandered back into the bedroom, looking surprisingly pale and nervous. You had never quite seen him in such a way, before.

After all, it was always good times and weird vibes with your husband. Since when did he become the anxious type?

“I’ll be right back, Robin. I’ll get your medicine.”

“Give some to Morgan, first.” You asked, “I can wait.”

Maribelle nodded to you before taking off, leaving you alone with your husband who was bouncing his leg and fidgeting with his hands with a nervousness that you’d never seen before.

For a few moments, it was quiet, listening to the rhythmic, rapid tapping of his heel against the stone. Eventually, though, you would have to snap him out of it.

“Henry, a-are you all right?” You questioned as gently as you could. Henry started to nod, giving you a cracked, faux grin. Then he paused, his smile fell, and he shook his head.

“Well, if I’m honest? No. Not at all. I feel like I’m dying inside.” He admitted. “I mean, you’re sick, and so is Morgan! My two favorite living people! And there’s not a thing I can do about it- I mean, he’s just a baby, and we’ve only been back together for a year- I dunno. It scares me, y’know? Which is impressive! When’s the last time I’ve been genuinely scared, right! Nya ha ha!”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, Henry.” You tried to assure him. But he shook his head, folding his arms tightly.

“You don’t know that! All it takes is one thing to go wrong and it could be bye-bye wifey, or even bye-bye baby, and I...oh, I couldn’t handle that. Nope, not one bit.” 

It was certainly a reasonable concern. 

“Henry, sweetheart...come here.” You held your hand out to him, insisting he sit with you. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the pain that numbed your sense of worry, but you were far calmer than he was.

He took your hand, revealing trembling fingers. You squeezed it tightly, trying your best to comfort him despite your situation.

“Maribelle will take care of us. We’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

“But you can’t be sure!” He sighed shakily, “Anything can happen when it comes to Plegian flu. It can either be nothing at all, or really bad! And you never know until it happens. If something bad did happen to you or Morgan, I just...I don’t know what to do! You already told me I’m not allowed to re-animate either of you if you croak, so...I’m out of options!”

“I’m standing firm on that, just so you know.” You informed him with a soft smile, “But, Henry...there’s no value in worrying for worrying’s sake. W-we really shouldn’t be concerned with the unknown until it comes.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one having to take care of both of you! What if I mess up?! What if I make it worse!! I already broke Maribelle’s mortar and pestle, there are herbs everywhere, a-and I just-”

“Henry,” You pressed a finger to his lips, “You’re overthinking.”

“B-but I just...I worry about you guys…”

“I know.” You beamed at him, stroking his cheek. “But please, try not to worry. We need to wait for Maribelle’s diagnosis, and we can go from there, okay? It’ll be easier if we take it a step at a time.”

“Gosh, Robin...how’re you able to stay so calm all the time?” He looked at you incredulously, “I’m about ready to pop out of my skin and just run around like a headless Risen!”

“Experience.” You laughed. 

Maribelle came in not long after, informing you both that the flu didn’t appear to be as bad as it could be. 

“Morgan should recover within the week, though we’ll need to make sure he receives two doses of medicine each day; one in the morning and one at night. Henry, you’ll have to make it for him each day- is that something you can handle? Or will I be making more visits this week?”

Henry shared a look with you, seeing your encouraging smile. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“I can handle it, I promise!”

“Good. Morgan’s going to be counting on you. Robin, you should need more rest than anything else, but I’m recommending you take one dose each evening; it will help you sleep better, and it’s strong enough that it should hold you the next day.”

“That’s fine by me.” You agreed; the less disgusting, bitter herbs you had to ingest, the better.

“Your recovery time will be a bit longer than Morgan’s, though, judging by how you’re doing… I’d say two weeks at minimum; a month-and-a-half at most. Now if you want, I can have Lissa or Libra come and help take care of you, so that Henry can focus on caring for Morgan. Or, we can simply send Morgan off with a wet nurse while you’re here.”

“N-no, I-!” Henry interrupted before you could reply, putting a hand to his chest. “I can handle it, Maribelle! After all, if I can’t take care of my family, what kind of man would I be? Just a sad bag of bones and sinew! Not good for anything but crow food.”

Maribelle glanced over at you, looking for some sort of response. You knew she was still wary of Henry, especially now that she was out a very lovely mortar and pestle. But you were confident in his abilities.

“He can take care of us.” You told her, “I trust him.”

“Well...if you insist.” She conceded, earning a whoop from your husband- and an apology for it shortly after when he realized you weren’t to be around loud noises with your headache. “I’ll be coming to check up on you twice a week until you’re all better- until then, Henry, we’re counting on you!”

“You got nothin’ to worry about, Maribelle! We just take it a day at a time, and it’ll be great, nya ha!”

“Robin, if anything changes, or you need help...please don’t hesitate to call me or the other healers immediately.”

“I will.”

“I do mean anything, dear.”

“...I will.”

“If Henry does one thing wrong-”

“Hey!”

“I got it, Maribelle.” You chuckled, waving her away. “Thanks for your concern. We’ll be sure to call for you if we need anything. But I’m positive Henry will take care of us just fine.”

“You can bet your organs on it!” He grinned, giggling happily with his wife’s support. Maribelle gave him a long, hard look, but eventually took her leave. 

Henry was quick to move Morgan’s crib into the bedroom, guaranteeing that he could keep track of both of you and ensure you were both recovering nicely at the same time.

While it was heartbreaking listening to Morgan’s discomfort and those tiny baby coughs, it helped to see him improve day after day.

You did end up recovering about a week after Morgan, all thanks to Henry. He made sure to give you only the best. Most of all you were just thankful that none of you could get the Plegian swine flu ever again.

Especially since he bought Maribelle a replacement mortar and pestle that came from a questionable source, covered in animal bones and bird skulls and...you really didn’t know what corner of Hell he summoned them from.

At least there wouldn’t be another opportunity for him to break anything else of Maribelle’s, seeing as you wouldn’t be getting sick again.

You would take extra steps to ensure that just so he wouldn’t frighten Maribelle with another horrifying “gift”.