#i just don’t retain it i’m always feeling cold

[dilatorywriting]

“I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more.”

For the event, can I request Malleus for this? I need to send ALL my love to him ASAP. Although for this, feel free to have him being the one saying it to reader.

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 1.2k

Prompt 51: "I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

There was something about being in love with a fae that would always be at least a little intimidating.

No, it wasn’t the unearthly powers that could literally rip through the fabric of time and space with a snap of his fingers. No, it wasn’t the cold, serpentine stare or the sharp fangs in his mouth that shined like well-polished knives under the right light. It wasn’t even the horns. Even though they added an extra foot onto the dragon’s already stupidly impressive height.

But there were other things, sometimes. Less tangiblethings.

You tried not to think about it too much, because you loved Tsunotarou. Really, you did. And you didn’t want some… some creeping thing at the fringes of your consciousness to ruin that.

It was cold tonight, and you puffed warm breath onto your fingers. Normally Malleus was the one waiting for you to arrive at your usual Gargoyle Filled haunts, but he’d had a meeting with his retainers today. And you weren’t surprised he was running a bit late in the aftermath.

‘Man, I’m surprised Draconia is ever on time for anything,’ Ace had complained, during some mandatory assembly or other. Watching as Malleus floated into the room a solid two hours after scheduled.

‘He’s usually very punctual,’ you’d answered, confused.

‘Sure, sure. But don’t fae have, like, super fucked up senses of time?’ the redhead mused. ‘Like I bet you could tell him to meet you in an hour and he’d show up a week later or something.’

“Child of man,” a familiar timbre called out over the snow, and you perked up immediately, hopping from foot to foot to get your circulation going again before trotting out to meet him halfway.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped. “How was your day?”

“Dreadful,” he answered, deadpan, and bent his arm neatly so that you could tuck your fingers into the crook of his elbow and snuggle yourself into his side. He was like a walking furnace, what with the roaring, emerald fires in his belly. And the snowflakes seemed to melt before they’d even touched his skin. “Nothing but paperwork. Perhaps I should turn them all into enchanted quills, and then they might finally be fit for their positions.”

You snorted into your glove. “You’d need to turn some of them into ink then, too.”

“Ah, of course,” he intoned. And then shot you a smirk that was just on the right side of besotted. “Whatever would I do without your wise guidance?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you teased, and then smiled right back in that stupidly, soppy way. “But you seemed more than smart enough to manage on your own before I came along. And I’m sure you’ll go back to being brilliant when I’m gone,” you added on a laugh.

But Malleus didn’t join in your giggling.

The fae stopped in place, and you were dragged to a halt with him. You blinked up at him, confused. His expression was… complicated.

“You are leaving?” he asked, each word sounding like it had to be pried out of his mouth with a crowbar.

“What?” you blinked. “Of course not.” Crowley never having bothered to lift a feathery finger to find you a way home aside, you had more than enough reasons to stay here for as long as your meager, mortal life would allow. Going home… it soured something in your stomach that you didn’t even want to consider. So you just tightened your fingers around his arm and shot him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster. “Even if I had the choice, I’d be staying right here.”

But that just made Malleus’s brow pinch up tighter.

“Then what did you mean?” he questioned, perplexed. “When you said ‘when I’m gone.’”

Ah.

You fought a guilty wince. You hadn’t wanted to drag your own little terrors into his worries as well. You really needed to get a better leash on the poor quips that managed to tumble out of your mouth.

“Well, just that, uhm…” You waved your free hand awkwardly. “You know.”

More furrowing.

“I do not,” he said, sounding grumpy. It was a bit adorable, seeing an almighty prince and near God pout at you. But you fought off the urge to coo over his pursed lips and scrunched nose. Time and place, self. Time and place.

“I’m mortal,” you said finally, hoping that would cover it.

“And?”

Ugh. Come on, dude. Give me something here.

You shrugged, tight and awkward. “Just that, well, you know. Your lifespan is near infinite right? And mine is sort of set to be…” You held up your fingers and pinched them close together. “Uhm. Not that.”

“And you think that such an inconsequential factor means that you will be leaving me?” he asked, and you blinked at him in outright confusion.

“It’s pretty consequential,” you squeaked out, and averted your gaze. “And.. and besides. I knew that from the beginning. And I just want to be able to make the best out of the time with you that I have,” you said, hoping it sounded properly reassuring and not like the start of a particularly peppy obituary.

“…I see,” the Prince said, low. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll be gone, I’m sure.”

You blinked again, owlish and slow.

“Pardon?”

“What is the human expression…?” he hummed, tucking your arm back tightly against his side and starting up your leisurely stroll once more. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder? Almost so much as time itself.”

Yeah, you wanted to amend. But not from beyond the grave.

“I guess so,” you shrugged.  

“Can you imagine then,” he hummed. “How much I’ll love you in a thousand years?”

“I—” you swallowed, feeling tears prick at the back of your eyes.

But rather than give your poor, fluttering soul a chance to recover, he just pushed onwards.

“I will love you forever, and when ‘forever’ ends, I suppose that I’ll just love you even more,” he said, perfectly level and serious, like he hadn’t just absolutely pulled your heart out of your chest and set the whole of you on fire.

You stared up at his regal, handsome face from beneath a soft veil of falling snow. With those cold, emerald eyes, the pointed fangs, the horns. You felt like your stomach had fallen out at your toes, like the whole of you was bound to float away like a balloon lost in the breeze. Because he’d said—he’d really—

“And of course,” the dragon shrugged. “I’ve always intended to extend your lifespan to begin with.”

You gaped at him wordlessly for a moment, before letting out a hideously embarrassed squawk and pounding at his chest with your gloved hands.

“You could’ve told me that!” you shrieked, practically steaming in the cold with the heat pulsing off your cheeks.

“I suppose,” he smirked, catching your flailing fists easily in one of his own large hands. “But then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction to my declarations, would I?” he cooed, all smooth, dark chocolate and smoky embers. “And I had to work so hard to memorize those lines. Fitting as they are, I was told that the moment to use them would have to be perfect, and—"

“Did Lilia set you up for this?” you choked.

Malleus snorted and turned to tug you further down the path. “Only a little.”

.

.

[withleeknow]

hiya! I noticed you have your requests open and if you don't mind, could I please suggest: "for once... I was right" with "don't you dare walk away from me" for Lee Know - maybe angsty but I don't mind you just going with the flow.

thank you!

blue hour.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: exes au, exes to ...? 🫢, angst; minho's pov mostly, open ending kinda, some light cursing, unedited don't look at me word count: 2.2k (i got carried away a little bit) listen to 🎧: breathe again - sara bareilles

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

“this should be the last of your things.”

“thanks,” you say, rummaging through the box that minho hands over to you. everything that you left at his place throughout the entire time you were together; every sweatshirt of yours in his closet, every piece of jewelry on his nightstand, every bottle of nail polish that you kept in his bathroom reserved for nights where you two would pamper each other. they're all here, except for... “did you see my red scarf though? i can’t find it anywhere.”

“no, i checked,” he says. “this is everything.”

“hmm, okay.”

you hold the box between your arms, and minho can’t help but feel something twist painfully in his chest. it’s like you're holding your relationship, or what’s left of it anyway, ready to make your swift exit from his life. two years of love, all dumped into one stupid cardboard box.

you both stand there in silence for what feels like forever, just staring at each other, then at your surroundings, neither of you saying anything. minho knows why he hasn’t bid you a farewell goodnight yet; it’s because he doesn’t want this to end. even though it’s a sad occasion, the finale to your story, he still wants to the seconds to stretch on, for the minutes to last longer. after all, isn’t this the last time he'll ever see you?

why you haven’t left him to his devices and gone upstairs, he isn’t sure.

another moment passes. life goes on but it seems like you two are in your own bubble where nothing moves forward. everything stays rooted to the spot.

“do you want to go for a walk?” you ask after a while. the question surprises minho enough that he lets it show, and it makes you quickly tack on an excuse. “the weather is nice and i... i don’t want to be on my own.”

yes, he does want to go for a walk with you. anything to be with you even if it’s only for a moment longer.

“sure,” he says. “let’s go for a walk.”

“okay. i’ll leave this upstairs and get my jacket.”

he watches as you disappear inside your building, only to reemerge momentarily afterward, a wool jacket draped over your frame. he wishes you’d worn something lighter, just so he could have an excuse to wrap his arm around your shoulders if it gets colder.

you walk side by side around your neighborhood, a distance between your bodies that never used to be there before. it’s strange, of course it is. but minho supposes this is yours and his new reality now.

“how are the cats?” you ask.

“they’re okay. dori had a cold a couple weeks ago, but everything’s fine now,” he tells you. “they... they miss you.”

i miss you too - that's a thought that he doesn’t say out loud, only keeps it to himself because it feels too humiliating to utter those words to you.

“they’re cats. how can you tell?”

“i can always tell.” he shrugs. “they wait by the door when i’m already home. they sleep on your-... they sleep on the other side of the bed.”

if you notice his slip up, you don’t say anything. you purse your lips and nod somberly, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “they’ll forget about me soon enough,” you say.

minho glances at you. he wants to rebuke that statement, to argue with you over something as silly as whether or not his freaking cats will retain their memories of you in the future. but he just bites his tongue and swallows down the lump in his throat, humming to let you know that he’s heard what you said. not a hum of agreement, just one of acknowledgement.

“how’s work?” he asks. god, it’s just so fucking weird to be asking you these things. you know each other inside and out and yet, you’re here making small talk.

torn apart when all you two should be is together.

“it’s alright. still the same, kinda boring. you know there’s not a lot that can happen in that place in one month.”

yes, because it’s been a little over a month since you parted ways, since you moved back into your old apartment and left his home perpetually cold and empty. he can’t blame you for leaving when he was the one who agreed to break up. he can’t blame you for his heartache when he was the one who broke your heart first.

he didn’t mean to, but isn’t that what they all say?

“do you still want to leave?”

“sure,” you reply. “if i can find something better, i’d leave that place in a heartbeat. but for now, it’ll have to do. it used to be a bit more bearable though.”

“i hope you find something that makes you happier.”

“thanks.” you give him a smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. “how about you? how’s life?”

minho almost says the first thing that comes into mind. life is terrible without you. i think about you every single minute of every day but you're not here and it’s my own damn fault.

he could lie and come up with something much more palatable, because he doesn’t reckon his truth is something you’d like to hear right now.

but he doesn’t want to lie to you. in the time that you were together, minho never lied to you, not even once, not even over something stupid and insignificant. beside, he’s got a feeling that you would see through his bullshit anyway.

his answer ends up being a sad shrug, then, “it’s life. i’m hanging in there.”

your footsteps slow until you stop completely. this makes him stop too, turning around to look at you with his head tilted to one side, confused.

“it’s not like you to sound so defeated,” you comment.

“what?” he asks with a sigh. “it’s the truth.”

“it’s not the whole truth.”

“what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to be honest with me,” you tell him, your shoulders slumping just slightly. “i still care about you. i want to know you’re okay.”

minho takes a step closer until he’s right in front of you, the closest that you two have been all night. his body feels the warmth radiating from yours but he has to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and touching you.

“if you really want to know, i haven’t been myself since you left.”

guilt flashes in your eyes. it wasn’t his intention at all.

you bite your bottom lip, inhale a shaky breath, before you speak, “i’m sorry for leaving.”

“don’t apologize. i’m sorry for driving you away.”

then he watches the tears well up as you look at him. he’s been wondering this the whole night, how you seem so cavalier about it all, how you’re able to speak to him so casually as if you’re just old friends with some shared history, and not as though the wound is still fresh. he’s still bleeding and you’re acting like you’ve already healed.

but he sees it now. you’re just as sad as he is, just as miserable. the only difference is you’re better at hiding it, or maybe you’ve just had more time to get used to the way it hurts.

is this how you felt in the weeks, the months, leading up to your departure? every time he neglected you, prioritized something else over you, missed every date and overlooked every text message? every single instance where he was too busy for you?

he never wanted to break your heart, but alas, here you are.

he didn’t want you to go, and yet, when you felt like you couldn’t handle the loneliness anymore, he hadn’t stopped you from walking out the door. he gave up, and he gave up so easily.

nothing along the lines of ‘don’t you dare walk away from me’, no tearful argument, no explosive and definitive end to your relationship. minho just let your love slip away.

how must that have made you feel on top of everything that he did - or didn’t do - to you?

minho has been called every variation of ‘cold’ before. to everyone else, he’s callous, rough, intimidating and unapproachable. but to you, he’s kind, soft, gentle and loving. it never mattered what anyone thought of him, as long as you always knew that he loved you, that you saw him for who he was.

but toward the end, what if you saw him how the others did? what if you had deemed him cold too?

the mere thought makes him sick to his stomach.

you sniffle, wiping at your eyes. “you don’t have to say that. it’s in the past now.”

fracture upon fracture upon fracture. minho doesn’t know how much more of this his heart can take.

his fingers twitch, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching for your hands. to his surprise, you let him.

your hands, so delicate in his, so warm.

“i should’ve fought harder for you,” he says, his voice so small that you barely catch the words at all.

but his eyes… he hopes you can see it in his eyes - the regret, the longing, the pain of losing you dimming the light of the stars he holds there.

giving his hands a light squeeze, you say, “and maybe i should’ve held on tighter instead of letting go.”

“i made you feel like you weren’t enough. it’s the worst thing i ever did to you. i understand why you left.”

you try to calm your breathing, because you really don’t feel like breaking down in front of him right now. you don’t say anything in response; what are you even supposed to say? you told him everything that you wanted to the night that you two broke up. everything that you tried to bottle up for months was laid on the table that night. you watched as he listened to you, watched as his heart broke alongside yours. that was it.

“i… i’m sorry,” minho stutters, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks scared. “i’m sorry. can’t we try again? i swear i won’t let you down again. i swear to you.”

“min…” the nickname slips out of habit and for a second there, minho thinks you would say yes. but then… “i know you’re sorry. i know we didn’t break things off because we fell out of love. but i don’t think you’re at a point in your life where i can be the most important thing right now. you may not mean to, but there’ll be things that you prioritize over me… and i’m not at a place in my life where i can settle for being on someone’s back burner either. the timing’s just off. it’s not your fault, life just got in the way.”

minho stares at you, the stars dying out one by one. the hurt is beyond what any word can describe but in a way, he understands. it fucking sucks, but he gets it. he has to accept it now.

he nods solemnly, tracing odd patterns on your palms. then he asks, quietly, “can i hold you? just for a while.”

please indulge me, he thinks. this is the last thing i’ll ever ask from you.

you don’t reply with words. instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. you two stay there in each other’s embrace for god knows how long. it could’ve been minutes or it could’ve been hours. you always lose track of time when you’re wrapped up together.

you hold him like he - tough and intimidating minho - is made of glass, and he holds you like he doesn’t ever want to let you go.

but he has to eventually.

you untangle yourself from him to find that he’s been crying. the tears on his cheeks catch the light from the street lamps, reflecting like crystals in the night. when you wipe them away, you tell him, “for once, i was right.”

“about what?” he sniffles.

“you really are a hopeless romantic,” you smile, trying to lighten the mood. as much as you can anyway. “i knew you’d prove me right one day.”

minho wants to scoff but his eyes are burning from the tears and his throat feels like it's closing up, so he lets you have this one. the last one, right?

maybe he is a romantic, and maybe it’s only for you. maybe it makes him a little hopeless.

the walk back to yours ends too quickly. but truth be told, even if you had walked together until the sun came up, it still wouldn’t have been long enough for him.

you both stand there, two heavy hearts looking at each other, looking for one another.

there’s no goodbye, only goodnight.

and you’re the one who says it first.

minho returns your sentiment with a choked up voice, a brush of his fingers against yours, and when you finally turn to walk up the steps, his gaze lingers on your retreating figure.

then he calls your name softly. “hey, uhm... i’ll let you know if the scarf turns up, okay?”

you turn back with a knowing smile. it’s still sad, but there’s some faith hidden there.

“i hope it will.”

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 16.01.2024]

[carmenberzattosgf]

It's 💙💙💙me again !I've Come to be annoying ! Lol . Okay so hear me out , it's cold as shit in Chicago during the winters and the reader just moved there and isn't used to it and her clothes arent warm enough and it makes carmen annoyed as hell BECAUSE ITS COLD AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING ?? So he's always giving you his coat and reader is always like "no no no , you're gonna be cold 🥺🥺🥺" while she's grabbing his biceps but at the same time she's like all "heheheeh" on the inside and giddy and he just gives her a stern look and spank on the ass for being irresponsible 🫣 but at the same time he loves her wearing his jacket and now she's only allowed to wear his jacket basically 💙

You could never annoy me friend!!

But yes I sooo agree with this. I’m thinking pre relationship you would show up to work after walking there when it was FREEZING. All you have to keep you warm is a flimsy little jacket. You suck it up and don’t complain.

Carmy notices though when the day is over and you’re about to head out back into the cold with your sad excuse for a jacket.

“Y/N. Did you forget your jacket in your locker or something? It’s freezing you need to go grab it.”

“This is all I’ve got! I haven’t had time to buy a proper winter jacket since moving here. I’ll be fine though. I made it this morning just fine.” The concerned look on Carmy’s face turns into one of complete shock.

“What the hell were you thinking? It’s like 20 degrees outside.” Carmy begins to unbutton his thick fleece-lined denim jacket and shrug it down his shoulders.

“Woah, woah, woah. What are you doing?” You grab at his arms to stop his movements. His biceps flex beneath your palms. You knew he was ripped, but to feel his muscles under your own hand is much different than just looking at them.

“I’m letting you wear my jacket.” You two argue back and forth before you finally give in. He stands behind you and helps you slip the jacket on. It’s soft and cozy, and the smell of Carmen overwhelms you. “There we go. That’s much better now, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t lie. He was right. “Thank you Carmy. I’ll get this back to you tomorrow. Promise.”

“No. Don’t worry about it. You said you didn’t have time to get a jacket, right? Consider it a ‘welcome to Chicago’ gift.”

“You don’t have to do that! This is a really nice jacket. I don’t want to take it from you.”

“Trust me. I have plenty just like it. Besides, it looks nice on you.”

Now once you two are in a relationship? Yeah you forget your (his) jacket on purpose just so you can wear whatever one he wore to work back home. The main reason behind this is so you can smell like him for however long the jacket retains his scent.

He’s come to expect this and actually keeps an extra jacket in his locker so he doesn’t freeze to death in Chicago winter.

But yes. Every single time it happens he will playfully scold you and slap you on the ass because he knows you love it.

He truly cannot get enough of you in his clothes. He would walk home in the blistering cold if it meant he got to see you wearing one of his jackets

[richarlotte]

more things you swear by?

Japanese Lingerie.

I swear by Japanese lingerie, especially if you love detailed sets. My body doesn’t suit American-made lingerie now that I’ve lost so much weight, and I learned about Japanese lingerie from r/abrathatfits on my journey to find what suited me. The bras are forward projecting and give me a much better side view. I love buying matching lingerie sets, and the sets I usually go for are lacy and intricate; they’re incredibly well priced for the quality they are, and they fit me the way I like my sets to fit me. Buying lingerie is extremely feminine to me, and I love finding sets that complement my body. I’m still not as secure in my new body as I’d like to be, and good lingerie makes me feel beautiful again.

French Tips.

French tips are my go-to. They look good, they’re low maintenance, they’re universally acceptable, and they look clean. When done right, they make my hands look longer and thinner than they are, and I love that with a thinner white line, they look and feel delicate. I mostly do French mani-pedis; it’s a habit I got into when I first went to Chicago, and it’s served me well, so I doubt I’ll ever stray from it. The nail salon combo is widely accepted to be DND865 and DND473, and I do an acrylic overlay on top of my natural nails, keep an oval shape, and request a thin tip if I’m not doing BIAB again. I won’t get into the acrylic vs. BIAB debate at the moment, but I will say that when properly done, BIAB looks amazing, is better for helping you retain length, and it lasts longer than acrylic while looking better.

Classic Makeup and Flicky Layered Hair.

I love styling my hair and doing my makeup; it’s like a reward for waking up in the morning. I get to sit down, make myself pretty, and enjoy the entire process. I figured it was time to update my skincare and makeup routines once again, so I took the time to start watching makeup tutorials (Uma Jammeh, amazing) and using what products I already have to adapt certain looks to my face. As for hair, I’m obsessed with Sarmadina de Beaute as of late and layers. I think my hair looks best with heavy, flicky layers (Remington curls) if I don’t have the time to do a blowout, and I’ve really embraced the process of both finding styling inspiration and actually doing my hair. I found my ultimate inspiration the other day, ordered hair immediately, and cut and styled one of my synthetic wigs to get the look in the interim, and I’m smitten.

Minimal Jewelry.

I’ve always worn minimal jewelry; I’m a major fan of Cartier, and I’ve curated a small collection that I wear nearly every day. I love accessorizing, but I don’t like wearing a million things that have no meaning; I prefer to only wear things I love or things that have a story behind them. Gold is my metal and diamonds are my jewel. I prefer this combo over all of the other combos I’ve seen or worn before, but I also occasionally wear mother of pearl when the time is right. I dislike being weighed down by poorly made pieces; I think jewelry can be used as a statement (when needed), and putting thought into what I wear and what I want my jewelry to say has saved me a lot of misery. With the exception of my charm necklace or lavaliere necklace, I try to wear the same sets every day.

Lymphatic Massages and Red Light Therapy.

Now that it’s November and the weather is soon to turn cold again, I’m much more focused on cardio and my diet. Because I’ve filled my weekday mornings with Pilates and my afternoons with the elliptical and stairmaster, I’ve added lymphatic drainage massages and red light therapy to my weekend schedule. I’ll be in Europe, on the slopes, in the freezing cold for the majority of my winter break, and I’m preparing for that now. Lymphatic massages are a lifesaver for me, especially during allergy season, and full-body red light therapy is just an additional benefit. I’ve also switched from studio yoga to hot yoga and from the steam room back to the sauna, stopped drinking coffee, and really started focusing on increasing my flexibility.

Tinting, Tanning, and Toning.

I love having dark skin already, but I do tend to go wild with the self-tanning in the winter. In my mind, there’s nothing more beautiful than dark skin against white snow, and the darker I am, the better I look. I grew up being told that I was too dark, but I’ve embraced it. I’m proud of my skin, and I love the richness of it, and I use tanner as a way to cover up the scarring on my body and contour my face. As for tinting, I tint my brows and lashes darker than I normally would in the colder months because they don’t turn over or fade as quickly. I never ever tint my eyebrows jet black; that color is far too harsh for my face, and I can’t pull it off at all. I use the darkest brown on my brows and jet black on my lashes. When it comes to toning, I spray my entire body with the Ordinary’s glycolic acid and let it dry after showering for the best results. I swear by it for clearing body acne and preventing any body odor.

It’s similar but different.

[dearpyramus]

Lip x sick!reader

tags/warnings: soft!lip, probs ooc (sorry), doting!lip, sick!reader, emetophobia tw (nothing graphic)

a/n: i wrote this while drunk LMAOOO hope it’s ok, also kinda rushed the end oopsie daisy, 1.2k words

(fic btc)

Lip’s calloused hands snuck around your waist as you straddled on top of him, hips grinding against his crotch. Your hands trailed his shoulders, lips famished for his own.

It was the perfect moment: hot, heavy, and pure ecstasy—if it weren’t for the pain in your stomach. You had been feeling like that for a bit but tried your hardest to push it down. You were sweating; it felt cold and clammy. It took so much in your body to will yourself to continue, feeling weaker by the minute. You pushed it down, however. You didn’t want to ruin this moment.

You couldn’t keep up the act for much longer. Either you were terrible at hiding it or Lip had some sixth sense when it came to you. Whatever the answer, you felt his motions on your waist abruptly pause. When you lifted your head to face his, you were met with furrowed brows. A soft and concerned expression pained his face, and immediately you felt your stomach drop. You ruined the moment, you thought

You leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, continuing to grind your hips into his. The movement was pointless as he was quick to pull you away.

“Baby…what’s wrong?”

Of course he had to pull out that soft voice of his. Something only few people were given the privilege of hearing. Something that never failed to make you absolutely melt; feeling like a lullaby to your ears.

You let out a shaky sigh, trying to shake off the nausea and fatigue.

“I’m uh—“

You trailed off, not wanting to lie but also not wanting to worry him. Perhaps you weren’t actually sick and you were just being dramatic. You wouldn’t put it past yourself.

Before you could finish you thought, he introjected, still retaining that soothing voice.

“You don’t look so well…”

His response caused a realization in you. You looked as shitty as you felt. There really was no point in hiding it now. What was supposed to be a romantic night was now him trying to nurse you back to health.

God damn it, you thought. Why’d your body have to ruin this.

You almost instinctively let out a shaky sigh. You hated being sick; it always caused a feeling of panic whenever you felt even the slightest hint of nausea. You tried your best to remain composed, hoping it was just dull pain.

You didn’t register the silence until he spoke up again, cooing softly.

“Talk to me baby”

A large hand cradled your cheek, thumb rubbing softly and tilting your head to meet his. You were still stacked on top of him and noticed how your body quivered with exhaustion. Whoever gave you this sickness was going to pay.

“I don’t—feel too hot…”

Your breath hitched as you spoke, taking so much effect to even choke out a few words. Your arms felt like they were gonna give out. You wanted nothing more than to flop onto his chest. You remained strong, not wanting to seem clingy. You were much more needy when you were sick, much to your embarrassment.

His hand moved from your cheek to your forehead, softly pressing down. You couldn’t help but to close your eyes, relishing the contact. God, why were you so needy?

“Jesus, babe, you’re burning up”, he sighed, rubbing your forehead.

You couldn’t help but to mutter an apology, even though it was out of your control. This was supposed to be a romantic night, now he has to play nurse. Go figure, you thought. He was quick to shush you and shake his head, leaving no room for argument.

“Hey, if you’re not feeling good that’s ok. Lemme take care of you. You’d do the same for me”

Damn it, you thought. He was right. You would do the same for him in a heartbeat. You were a hypocrite.

You let out a shaky sigh, too exhausted to counter him. You flopped text to him, lying on your back and rubbing your face. God, you felt like shit. All you could do now was hope for it to pass. Unfortunately, you only seemed to feel worse.

Lip was about to say something when you cupped your mouth, mentally preparing yourself for what was about to occur. You made a mad dash to the bathroom, running lik you’d never both. You leaned over the toilet to heave. Lip was quick to follow you. A hand was placed on your back, rubbing soft circles as you got sick. Another hand gently pulled back you hair. He whispered soft reassurances to you as you got sick.

“Just let it out, don’t fight it….thats it, baby”

Once you were done you let out a gasp, still leaning against the toilet. You let out a whimper, your body trembling a bit. Lip was still rubbing your heaving back. His voice was impossibly soft as he leaned closer to you.

“Shh shhh shhhh. I know, i know baby. I know you feel shitty. I’m sorry…”

You wanted to tell him to not apologize, that it was out of his control. Instead, you continued to try and catch your breath, feeling too shitty to do anything else. The movements on your back were a bit firmer.

“S’okay. You’re okay. Y’just sick, is all. I know…i know…”

He continued his rambles of reassurances as you tried to collect yourself. You willed yourself to lip your head up, still looking down as you let go of the toilet seat. The hand grasping your hair moved to your thigh and began to press firmly at the expanse there.

“How ‘bout i run ya a nice bath, hm?”

You nodded. The idea of a bath sounded heavenly right now. Lip smiled, which sent a wave a warmth through your body. You could never get enough of it.

The sounds of the water soon filled the bathroom. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, slowly coaxing you up to your feet. You would never admit it, but you enjoyed this doting side of Lip. You couldn’t help but to lean against him, feeling too weak to stand on your own.

“I gotcha, just lean on me”

He murmured, repeating like a mantra as he lowered you into the tub. The water felt so nice, causing you to relax ever so slightly. You curled your knees into your chest and hugged them. It was a self-soothing mechanism you’ve had for the longest time.

Lip continued to coo reassurances to you as he washed your body. He gently rubbed body wash on your body, trying to soothe you as much as he could.

“That’s it, just try to relax….i know ya feel gross…good girl, that’s it…I gotcha”, he would murmur.

He rubbed shampoo into your hair, fingers gently massaging your scalp. You felt as if you could fall asleep right then. He continued these gentle motions as he rinsed it out and applied conditioner. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, sighing softly at the affection.

You wanted to cry at how gentle he was being, even when he was drying you off. He treated you as if you were fragile and could potentially break at any moment; with such care and love. You relished this soft side of Lip, hoping you’d get to see more of it.

[ominoose]

𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Jake Lockley x GN!Reader Summary: Boyfriend Jake drives you to work in the cab, insists you find a way to pay. Warnings: Smut WC: 1.3K

S/o to @reallyrallyauthor for the old lil chat we had about this and @silver-night-m for reminding me of it and reading over this <3

The day was already dragging on, and it was only 9am. 

Sleeping through the alarm before work was one thing you could potentially manage to bounce back from. Spilling coffee down your shirt after burning your meager breakfast of toast, not so much. 

Enter Jake, cab keys spinning around his index finger and barely suppressing a grin. He was the most attentive boyfriend one could dream of, seeming to possess some inner alarm that rang the moment you were even slightly miffed.

“Need a ride querido?”

Drops of rain obscured your view of the world beyond the taxi window, but you didn't need to see to know how dreary it was. Jake truly was a godsend, keeping you dry and snug within the warm taxi that seemed to permanently retain the new car smell alongside the faint fragrance of his cologne. 

The taxi crunched over stones and shuddered to a stop outside your workplace, the engine humming faintly.

“Thanks so much babe, I owe you one.” Some of the earlier tension had left you, the man seeming to have some innate ability to soothe you.

Although the morning had been a disaster, Jake had managed to salvage some of it for you. Instead of wanting to call the entire day quits, you now had the will to make it through until at least lunch without committing workplace assault.

“No hay problema, that’ll be £10.50.” His voice always took a more warmer, gravelly tone when he spoke his native tongue.

“Sure thing,” you giggled, hand on the door handle, seat-belt already unbuckled, “See you when I’m home babe.”

A sudden sharp click came from every side of the car. The doors had locked.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid you cannot leave if you don’t pay.” 

Normally his dry banter would force a smile onto your lips, no matter how much you wanted to grump, a power he used and abused. Today didn’t feel like a day you’d be in the mood to joke.

“Jake, I left my wallet at home! I’m already late, let me out.” “Well…” The rumbling drawl lacing his voice cut through your attempts to miraculously shake the door open and shot straight between your legs, “Maybe you can pay another way.”

 Hair slapped against your face as you whipped around to face him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. A relaxed smirk adorned his olive skin, naturally, and dark brown eyes raked over the entirety of you.

Before another breath could be drawn his lips were crashing onto yours, molding softly yet passionately. Goosebumps erupted across cold skin as leather gloves smoothed up the curve of your thigh, fingers digging into the soft inner flesh and stopping just short of where you very suddenly needed him.

And then he was gone.

“Jake-”

“Chica. You are the one paying me, eh? Tut, tut, trying to wiggle out of paying a poor working man.” The words were punctuated with a few pointed pats on his inner thigh, those same dark eyes now crinkling with mischief. 

You knew what he wanted. It was hard to pick apart the desire and annoyance. Maybe they were one and the same, but in the end there was only one way this was going to play out.

A final dubious glance was cast at the fogged up windows, the pedestrians barely visible beyond, before your hands were unbuckling his belt.

You were already late as is, and blowing Jake was better than blowing up at the annoying guy at the desk next to you.

Jake's hands were already threaded through your hair, gently rubbing your scalp with his thumb in endearing familiarity. A low, gravelly hum was drawn from deep within his chest the moment his hard cock was bobbing free from his trousers, the heady musk enticing you as a silver thread of precum leaked from the brown tip.

The taste of salt bloomed across your tongue and your thighs automatically clenched. Slowly your head took the entirety of him, sliding him against the flat pad of your tongue, almost pressing an open kiss against his pubic base.

Satisfaction was evident by the way he sighed. You could practically picture his head leaning against the headrest, eyes closed, not a trace of his usual tense demeanor. There was power in knowing you were the only person in the world that could bring him to total bliss and freedom.

When you pulled back and began bobbing your head at a leisurely pace, his breaths became huffs and his fingers tightened against the crown of your head. Jake wouldn’t dare gag you down without approval, ever the gentleman, and it was a small, intentional inaction that endeared him to your heart.

Wet squelching noises filled the cab as you sped up, passion and absolute adoration for the man before you pumping through your veins and filling you with the need to take care of the man that was always the caregiver. The need to show him the intensity in which your heart beat for him had your throat clenching around his length as you took him to the hilt again and again.

He must’ve felt it if the sudden sound of leather being strained and him keening into your mouth was anything to go by. Jake was nearing his limit already, a man who was usually so composed even during a blow job was now a panting mess. It was clear he was in a losing battle with himself, his hips bucked slightly off the seat before he forced himself down, fingers clenching then unclenching in your hair. 

Usually he’d mutter encouragement, telling you how good your mouth was, you were doing so good, his bebé. Now he could barely get a full word out, his mind too far gone to even translate to English.

“Si- Si mi amor… Eso es todo- Bien, muy bien... Por favor, nena, por favor..... Sí.”

Jake always came with a strained groan, choking out a breath then straining to take it back in. The salty yet pert cum hit against the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex and for the first time Jake tugs at your hair to pull you back. 

Tears blur your vision entirely but the feeling of tissue dabbing at your mouth assures you that you don’t need sight or any other sense. Jake will take care of you, even after the most mind blowing blowjob of his life. A fresh tissue dabs gently at your eyes, revealing the rare, charming sight of Jake with tired, drooping eyes saturated with love. 

“Maldito mi vida, it was only a £10 fare.” The words were playful, but his voice was soft, quiet. Raw.

“Thought I’d tip the best cabbie in London.” That got a smile from him, his thumb stroking over your jaw. If you squinted you could’ve swore his eyes glossed over, but before the thought lodged itself he had already sat back, sliding his gloves on.

“Gracias, cariño, but you’re now an hour late. Better hurry if you want to afford any more rides.”

Panic flooded over the moment as you scrambled to gather your things, smooth yourself down and stumble out of the car, shouting love yous and thanks to him over your shoulder as you book it to puppy-eye your boss.

In your haste you don’t notice the way the taxi lingers, the driver smiling to himself and shaking his head before he pulls off of the pavement and loses himself in the traffic.

[storm-angel989]

Hello!!

I was wondering if you could do a Val x daughter teen reader.

- She’s super duper sleep deprived (yawning every other 5 minutes and it’s so obvious she’s fighting to stay awake), and relies on a crap ton of energy drinks to keep her up and going. How would Val, Vel, and Vox react to finding out about this?

Hi Friend,

Thank you so much for your patience <3

As all three of the Vee’s very well know, sleep is so important. They want to see Reader succeed, but not at the expense of her own health. So take a peek at what happens!

Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

My official bedtime is eleven. I crawl into bed at two. 

My day started at 4:30.

Get up. Drag myself to the gym. Lately, I’ve been listening to my textbooks on audiobook while I run because I, for the life of me, can’t get my brain to retain any of the information. My first sip of an energy drink is paired with water as I frantically scramble to scrub my hair and get dressed in my uniform before I need to leave for school. 

Seven thirty. Skip breakfast in favor of the second energy drink of the day. Slide into my homeroom seat exactly six minutes before the bell rings. I can’t be late, or else I risk getting kicked off the water polo team. 

School ends at three. I lose track of how many energy drinks I buy, how many cups of coffee I consume. All I know is it’s easier to study and drink coffee than it is to study and eat. And midterms start tomorrow. 

Practice starts at three thirty and by the time I get in the water, my week and a half worth of cramming for midterms is starting to catch up to me. It’s all I can do to stay awake, and unlike the other girls, I’m grateful for the freezing cold water. 

This routine had been mine for the past two weeks, and I was exhausted. Cramming for exams always sucked, but this time around felt harder than most. 

“I just need to review one more chapter,” I promised myself as I climbed into the limo. The ache in my head matched the heaviness of my eyelids and I let out another yawn. “One more chapter, and then…”

Out of habit, I pulled out my exam schedule. I felt my heart drop and jolted awake as I read through the test list for the next day. Fuck. Science was tomorrow. Not history. I hadn’t even started to review science.  I opened up another energy drink as I stared into the eyes of what would be another all nighter. As the last drop of liquid entered my body, I could feel my heart beat- an uncomfortable buzz. I tried to ignore it as I exited the limo and trudged upstairs. My mind blurred as I went through the motions without remembering exactly what I was doing. 

“Ah, princessa, I’m glad you’re home,” my father’s voice floated across the room. “Your Uncle Vox just finished making dinner. Come sit.”

“I can’t, Daddy, midterms start tomorrow,” I replied through a yawn. “I have to study, I mixed up…”

“You can’t study on an empty tummy. Your body needs fuel,” my Aunt Velvette replied.

Her tone told me I wasn’t getting out of it. I dropped my backpack and hazily made my way across the living room. I stumbled but caught myself on the table. I could feel all three sets of eyes on me as I righted myself and slowly sank into my chair. 

“Babygirl, are you feeling okay?” Vox asked as he pressed his hand to my forehead. “You don’t look good.”

“No, no you don’t,” my father added. “Did you eat before practice?”

I tried to remember but the memories of the day wouldn’t come. I shrugged in response. 

“Have you been drinking?” Velvette demanded after a moment of silence. She crossed her arms. “You’re stumbling, you’re pale, you’re slurring your words, something is wrong.”

“No! I’m just, I’m really tired,” I protested as I tried to bite back a yawn. “Midterms, they're tomorrow and I..I need to study. I can have another energy drink, maybe that will help.”

I went to push myself up from the table and felt the heaviness of Vox’s hands on my shoulder hold me in place. His other hand reached over and clicked on my VoxTech watch. 

“When did you go to bed last night?” My father asked gently. 

“More importantly, how many energy drinks did you have today?” Vox asked. 

Unable to hold back, I yawned. “It's midterm week, I dunno. Guys, I have to study, I…” 

I watched all three of them exchange glances. Vox hit a button on my watch and they both looked at their phones. Alarm spread over each of their faces.

“No. You’re not going anywhere except to bed,” my father said firmly as he stood up. 

“Dad, no, I’m…I’m fine..” I started to protest as he lifted me into his arms. “Daddy, I’m sixteen, lemme go…” I laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes as I tried to push myself away from him. 

“Mhm, yeah, you’re right, you are sixteen,” he replied softly.

The next thing I knew, he laid me down in my bed and pulled the covers over me. I felt the weight of his body on the bed as he sat down next to me. 

“Close your eyes, ninita,” he said softly. “You need to rest.”

Under the warmth of the covers, snuggled in the comfort of my bed, exhaustion swept over me. Unable to fight, I sank into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

It could have been days, or hours later. As I slowly came to, the red digits of my alarm clock flashed. Eleven thirty am. Panic rushed through me. Late! I was so late! I sat straight up, but before I could swing myself out of bed, Vox’s hand pushed me down. 

“Hey, hey kid. Calm down. Relax, you’re fine,” he said soothingly.

“No, Uncle Vox I have my history midterm today, I have to go, I’m so late!” I babbled as I tried to push against him.

“You’ll make them up, deep breath,” he replied evenly. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m going to let your Dad and Vel know you’re awake. If I let you go, will you please stay down?”

Slowly, I nodded as the panic began to subside. He released me and sat down on the bed next to me. A few moments later, the door opened and they both walked into the room. 

“How are you feeling?” my father asked. 

“Better? Dad, my midterms, practice, I have homework,” I began.

He held up his hand. “Stop. Take a breath. Uncle Vox called the school. Your midterms are rescheduled for two weeks from now. Lots of time to study without you running yourself down to nothing.” 

“As for homework and practice, you don’t have to worry about that until Monday, which is when you’re allowed to go back to school,” Velvette added. 

“Allowed back to school? What the fuck does that mean?” I asked. 

“It means you’ve been asleep for almost a day and a half. It’s Thursday, sweetheart,” Vox said gently. 

Panic washed over me. A day and a half? I slept for a day and a half?

“See, the problem with sleep deprivation is that it catches up to you. No amount of energy drinks or coffee can fix the issue. The only way to feel better is to sleep,” he continued. “And it appears that you, little girl, pushed yourself to your max.”

“And could have done some serious damage to your body in the process,” my father added. “So this is how the rest of this weekend goes. You’re going to the doctors to get checked over…”

“Why? I was just overtired,” I protested. 

“No, you were exhausted. And you consumed so much caffeine your heart rate and your blood pressure were sky high,” Vox answered.

“Your Aunt Velvette, Uncle Vox and I have been taking turns sitting with you just to make sure you were okay,” my father added. “So no. A checkup is not negotiable. We’re also going to have a discussion with the doctor on the importance of sleep and the negative effects caffeine can have on the body. Anyway, after you get the all clear, you are going to spend the weekend resting. You can watch movies, study for a few hours, I don’t care. But when your body is tired, you need to sleep. Otherwise, you’re not going to recover from this.”

I felt myself deflate. “Am I grounded too?”

“Call it grounding if you want, but you’re staying home all weekend,” my father replied calmly. 

A thousand protests raced through my mind. I had an away game this week. I needed to keep in shape. I had projects to do and laps to swim. But as I studied the concerned expression on my fathers face, I realized that nothing I could say would make them change their minds. The creeping feeling of exhaustion swept over me and I yawned as I settled back against the pillows. 

I felt lips press to my forehead and I snuggled back under the covers. Maybe a bit more sleep wouldn't hurt.

[thatrandomwriter]

Caught

Ghostface Stu Macher x Reader

Warnings: violence, swearing, sexual language, knife-play

Summary: What happens when Reader catches Stu before he can cover up the evidence of his latest murder?

It wasn’t like I’d never showed up to Stu’s unannounced before. In fact, I had done it plenty of times - either to surprise him, or simply because I could not be bothered to call ahead. But something felt off today, when I stepped through his unlocked front door and into his house. His was always leaving the front door open, even when his parents were out, which they had been for a few days now. I was always telling him to keep it locked, especially now with a killer on the loose, but he never managed to take my concern seriously.

“Hey, Stu, you upstairs?” I called up to him from the hallway.

“Yeah, I’ll just be a minute,” his voice raised at the end of the sentence, strained slightly.

I began to climb the stairs, “Everything okay?”

“Yep, yep, of course, just gimme a minute okay? One minute and I’m all yours, okay baby?”

I waited. One minute turned into five, and I decided that enough was enough. I finished my climb and pushed open his bedroom door.

“Stu?”

He turned to me, shirtless, his sweater bundled and bloody against his chest in one hand, a knife in the other. This was no kitchen knife, either, long and curved and dramatically pointed. It was the sort of knife meant for tearing through flesh.

“Stu,” I repeated his name - what else was there to say? His sweater was stained deeply red, he must have been in the middle of cleaning up whatever mess this was when I had arrived.

A grin broke out across his face. Then a laugh. My feet were frozen to the floor. This was a sound that should be heartening, but instead my stomach churned.

“Are you - are you the killer?” The words felt unnatural, ludicrous, even. Stu, my Stu, a killer? This was insane. There must be some other explanation for this, I thought, but still my body was frozen and my stomach felt choppy as an ocean.

“Oh baby, you’re so stupid,” Stu’s sweater had dropped to the floor, but he retained the knife, “How are you possibly surprised by this? Aren’t you supposed to know me better than anyone?” he pouted at me. Mocking.

“I thought I did,”

“Come on, now, don’t be like that - don’t act all high and mighty, hoity toity, morally superior,” he punctuated his sentence with the knife, gesturing into the air, “I know you get off on this shit - no-one watches Halloween that many times if they don’t want to fuck Micheal Myers,” Stu stepped towards me, slow and deliberate. I felt like prey.

My words stumbled, “That’s - it’s not true. And this is real life, not some movie, or a stupid fantasy,” So maybe I had an unhealthy interest in slashers. That was irrelevant. Micheal Myers had not killed any of my friends.

“Can’t I be your stupid fantasy?” He had backed me into a wall. There was no avoiding him now, no escape, no evading his touch. He placed an arm above my head, caging me in.

I felt cold metal sliding across my neck, down my chest. “Please don’t kill me,” my eyes were blurry with tears.

“Looks like you know your lines already,” Stu tilted his head down, lips making contact with my neck. Then teeth, pulling and sucking at the soft skin beneath his mouth. My breathing caught. I was achingly aware of the knife pressing into my side, and the feeling of him kissing my neck. My heart was pounding, and I was not sure which sensation contributed to it more - my persisting attraction to him, or the imminent threat posed upon me. Perhaps it was some strange combination of the two.

He pulled away to take in my face. I turned my head away, sure that if he saw my face directly, he would see the conflict on my face. But his hand gripped my jaw, turning my chin towards him so that his eyes could meet mine.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He was grinning madly, “Now I need you to promise me baby, that you won’t tell anyone about this? I can make all your fantasies come true, but you know what I’d have to do if you told anyone, right?” His knife, which had been pressed into my side just enough for me to be aware of its presence, began to press deeper. Enough to make me gasp. Stu groaned. “You make such pretty noises, don’t you?” he pressed the knife against me harder. I felt it cutting, not deeply, but just enough to draw blood.

“I promise, I won’t tell anyone,” It was not as though I had a choice. But still, my breath was heavy. I did not hate this, or Stu, nearly as much as I should.

“Good,” Stu did not remove the knife straight away, instead sliding it forwards, lengthening the cut. I cringed, attempting to pull away from the burning sensation at my side, but Stu had me held in place. Tears slipped down my cheeks.

“I said I promise, okay?”

Stu leaned in, catching a tear on his tongue as it fell. The corners of his mouth twitched up. “Prove it to me,” he challenged. I was not sure exactly how I could fulfil his request, but I made my best guess, leaning up to kiss him on the mouth. The knife let up as my mouth slid against his, my chin upturned towards him. His hand found the back of my neck, cradling the back of my head in a movement that pressed my mouth further to his. My lips parted to allow his tongue to glide against mine, playful, teasing. The heat of his bare chest burned even through my clothing, igniting my skin wherever we made direct contact, burning even hotter in contrast to the cold blade now grazing my ribs. My body arched under its caress. It was so wrong for me to derive any enjoyment from this, but I had no choice, I told myself. I was doing this to stay alive, that was it, not because the sensation of Stu’s knife against my body made me feel alive, sending sparks shooting up my spine. My hands found his back, tracing the hollow of his spine, fingernails finding friction. Stu’s teeth caught on my lower lip, biting down to elicit a gasp from me.

“Can I really trust you, baby?” Stu had pulled away, only slightly, to murmur against my lips.

All I could manage was a nod.

The knife rose to my neck, “I need to hear you say it for me,” Stu’s eyes were wide, wild. I did not doubt in that moment that if I did not give him what he wanted, he would slit my throat and likely enjoy it. The thought had my breath hitching in my throat.

“You can trust me, I promise,”

His eyes narrowed, analysing my face, scanning for any insincerity. I scratched down his spine again with my fingernails and he groaned, leaning down to kiss me again, long and lingering, “You sure know how to make keeping you alive worth my while,”

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Mafia!Jeong Yunho x F!Reader TW : angst ; stabbing ; mentions of blood ; hospitals ; it's still kinda fluffy though because Yunho isn't actually an asshole ; Word Count : 3.0k

“Your phone is ringing…” You mumbled tiredly, letting out a little yawn as your arm draped over Yunhos chest, snuggling closer to his side, wanting to ignore the vibrating of his device against the hardwood of the end table. You hoped that he’d ignore it too, but his arm quickly slid out from underneath you to snatch his phone off the table, already on his way off of the bed to leave the room. “You could just let it ring, or turn it off…” You muttered, now wide awake from the sudden shift. 

“It’s just a quick call, love. I’ll be right back.” He tried to soothe you, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, his hand brushing over your hair before he walked out of the room, the door left cracked just enough to let the light from the hallway shine in across the floor. Even though he was talking quietly, his voice was low enough in the silence that it almost seemed loud, the muffled words unintelligible, yet they drifted into the room and filled your ears. 

You tried to listen, but it seemed like the more you tried to hear, the quieter he got. He was always so secretive, sneaking around and never telling you where he was going. You always tried not to let it bother you, but laying in bed, his side now growing cold the longer he was gone, the warmth underneath the blankets had left with him… your stomach began to twist as thoughts filled your mind about what he could be doing behind your back. Was he cheating? Was there another woman, a secret family? Were you the side piece that he went to when he didn’t want to go home to his other family too late at night? 

“I’m back…” He whispered, shutting the door as quietly as he could behind him before climbing into the bed beside you, his arm moving to wrap around your waist once more and pull you against his chest, but your body tensed up as you sniffled softly into your pillow. “Hey… Hey, what’s wrong?” He whispered urgently, quickly rolling you over as if he could see you in the darkness of the room. “Are you ill? Do you not feel well?” 

You held your breath, thinking that maybe in doing so the sobs would subside, but after a few seconds you shakily gasped, crying full force now as you stared up at the outline of him in the faint light that came in from underneath the door. “Y-You’re cheating… On me… I kn-know it!” You stammered out, weakly trying to push him off of you, but he let his weight drop a little more, holding you in place beneath him. 

“What are you talking about?” He sounded shocked, and even a little bit offended that you’d assume such a thing about him. “I would never do something like that… You know that I love you and only you. Where are these thoughts coming from…?” 

“Who called?” You whispered, and now he was tensing up, you wished that you could see his face, see his expression, but just from the way his body reacted to those words, it only made your thoughts seem more valid. “It was your girlfriend… Or your wife… Or fiancee… Wasn’t it? She wanted to know where you’re at? What did you tell her?” 

“No no… God, no.” He sighed, finally getting up, propping himself up on his knees. You could hear the deep breath that he took, the sound of it being forcefully pushed out. “It was my boss… Okay? Please don’t… Don’t assume things like that. You’re the only girl in my life… There’s no one else.” 

“Your boss?” You questioned, unable to retain the scoff that left you. “Right, because everyone's boss calls them at 3 in the morning, Yunho. Don’t play me for a fool, I’m not stupid.” You retorted, rolling over onto your side and pulling the blankets higher around you. “Just be honest with me… I’m tired of the sneaking around, I’m tired of wondering where you’re at. I’m just tired of trying to find excuses for the way you act to make myself feel better.” 

The light suddenly flicked on and you were being forced to look at him again, his face solemn but serious as he stared you dead in the eye. “I don’t want you to wonder, I don’t want you to worry. I want you to believe me when I tell you that I’m not cheating on you. I’m not and I would never. It was my boss, honestly. My job is… Not the best… And I don’t want you getting involved in it. Just trust me, okay? Please?” 

His fingers were gripping tightly into the sheets as his eyes bored into your own. You had never seen him look so serious, so panicked since the two of you had been together. You didn’t know whether to believe him or not. His job had always been kept a secret from you, and even now, he wasn’t going to tell you what he did even though he was practically using it as an alibi. “Fine.” You muttered, huffing loudly as you pulled the sheets from his grip, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the light. You weren’t sure what was the truth with him or what was a lie, but you knew that you were going to find out one way or another. 

“I’ll be back a little after dinner time, alright love?” Yunho said on his way out of the bedroom, his fingers working to finish buttoning his white button up shirt. “Don’t wait up too long for me.” He walked over to where you stood in the kitchen, grabbing a waffle off the stack that you had made. “I’ll take it to go.” 

You gave him a smile as you turned to look at him, nodding along with his words. “Get to work safely, text me when you get there.” He hummed in agreement, his lips wrapped around the waffle. “You’re gonna get crumbs all over your shirt, babe.” You groaned, brushing your fingers along his chest to clean him up. “I love you.” And you did, even if he was doing the unthinkable, the unforgivable, you knew that you’d still love him. 

“I love you more.” He murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, his fingers gripping onto the loose fabric of your night shirt, pulling you closer and chuckling into your mouth when you stumbled forward against his chest. “I’ll try to finish up fast… want to come back home to you.” His voice was husky now, his cheeks burning bright. 

You chewed your bottom lip shyly as you looked up at him, silence filling the space between the two of you, but you quickly patted his shoulder. “Alright… off you go. I’ll see you later, babe.” You murmured sheepishly, and he laughed softly at your shyness, ruffling your hair before turning to head out the door. 

Now came the hard part, the part where you had to follow him to wherever it was that he was going but stay far enough away that he didn’t actually see that you were following him. Was he really going to work, or was he going to meet up with whoever it was that had called him at that ungodly hour last night? 

You were still in your nightshirt, not even caring at this point as you slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed your keys. Did it even matter how you looked? If he was actually working, you’d just stay in the car and go right back home. If he was cheating, well… You were sure that being humiliated by your boyfriend in that way would be much worse than being seen in your pajamas. 

As soon as his car took off, you rushed out of the house and climbed into your own, making sure to keep him in your sights no matter which road he turned down or which side street he took. It was only when he started getting further away from the city that you began questioning where the hell he was actually going. Did he realize that you were following him? Was he just messing with you now? 

Part of you wanted to just turn around and head back home, forget about this whole thing and find a new way to figure out what he was actually doing. There had to be an easier way than this, and maybe when he got home he’d actually question what you were doing if he found out. 

You were on the verge of turning around in the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse on the side of the road… Until he pulled into the parking lot. There were only two other cars there and you assumed that maybe they were just fishermen that were using the dock on the back to sit on. If Yunho was cheating, this definitely wasn’t the kind of place he’d want to meet someone in… Right? 

At this point you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t pull into the parking lot, he would easily spot you there, so you drove for a little bit, giving him time to do whatever it was that he was doing, maybe he’d pull back out, maybe he had the same idea you did and was just using the parking lot to turn back around. 

You drove, and you drove, and then you turned around, his car still in the parking lot when you drove by, so you quickly pulled in, parking as far away from his car as you could before climbing out. Whatever the warehouse was being used for, it wasn’t what it had been originally made for. There was no sound of active work going on, there was no talking that could be heard. The only thing you did hear was the sound of water lapping against the rocky wall just below the pier. You’d need to get in… You just didn’t know how. 

“He’s in your trunk?” Yunho asked in disbelief as he stared at the guy in front of him. “I said to get him here, not fucking kidnap him!” He groaned loudly with annoyance, running his hands over his face before motioning to the door. “Hurry up and go get him, and I swear to god, if we get busted because of your idiocy, you’re gonna be next.” He watched with irritation as the man ran out the door, dropping down into the little office chair. ���I can’t trust anyone in here to do shit. And if any of you call me at that time again, you’re out. You understand?” The rest of the men that were gathered in front of him all nodded in agreement until a scream was heard from outside, everyone's head whipping towards the door. 

“Don’t worry! I got it handled!” The man’s voice called from outside, and then light was streaming in through the door as he dragged in the body of what Yunho assumed to be the man from the trunk. “Looks like you were followed, boss. What do you want me to do? Do I kill ‘em?” The man was far too excited as he pulled out his knife, the sun reflecting off the cleanly polished silver. “She’s kinda pretty though… Maybe I can keep her for a bit?” 

The sound of whimpering came from the shadowed body that was kneeling limply in front of the man, and Yunhos skin crawled, his stomach twisting with nausea. He knew that whimper, he knew every single sound that could ever leave your mouth. “Did you hurt her?” He was on edge, clearly tense as he slowly walked over to the man. 

“Of course I did, boss. Just a little bit though… She ain’t dead yet. Just a little cut up is all.” The man said proudly, finally letting go of your hair that he had been gripping tightly onto to hold your head up. “You can have ‘er first if ya want.” 

Your body fell forward and even though Yunho was seeing red, wanting nothing more than to murder the man that had hurt you, you were hurt, and he needed to make sure you were okay. He dropped to his knees in front of you, sitting you up carefully to look you over. “Love… Hey… Y/N…” He whispered, his eyes darting over your body, and it was easy to spot the stain of red that seeped through your nightshirt, the once baby blue fabric turning a dark crimson red. 

Your body jolted as you coughed, blood spraying from your mouth as you did, splattering against his face. “You weren’t… Cheating…” You sputtered, and even though your eyes were squeezed tightly shut, the pain clear on your face, your lips still seemed to pull up into a smile. 

“Of course I wasn’t…” He said shakily, pulling you into his lap to hold you close as his head whipped around to the very confused and very on edge men behind him. “Why are you standing there like a bunch of fucking idiots?! Get my keys and get my car started!” He shouted, although the tone of authority was wavering. He was angry, he was scared. “Don’t talk anymore, okay? I’m gonna get you to the hospital…” He brushed your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead as he cradled you against his chest. “If I were you…” His voice got quiet, his head rising up to stare at the man in front of him. “I’d run now… I’d hide… Because once she’s in the hospital… You’re dead. And if she doesn’t make it… You’re gonna wish you were never born.” 

The man didn’t even have a chance to respond as Yunhos car was pulled up to the door. You were his number 1 priority, you were right now, and you always would be. 

You sat in the hospital bed, munching on tiny ice cubes as you watched the news on the tv screen in front of you. There was a murder in the abandoned warehouse, and there wasn’t just one body found, but there was another body in the trunk of one of the cars in the parking lot. Your car had at some point been driven back to yours and Yunhos shared apartment, although you weren’t sure by who, and right now you didn’t really care. There was only one thing on your mind, one thought that was eating away at you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t want you to be scared… I didn’t want you to think I was some… Evil person. I didn’t want you to leave me.” He mumbled, his hand holding tightly onto yours as his head hung low. “I never thought that you’d follow me… I- I told you not to worry… I told you…” 

“I thought you were cheating… I didn’t know what to do… I just wanted to be sure that you weren’t. Even if you did tell me what you did… I probably wouldn’t have believed you… This would have happened anyway.” You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you dropped your eyes from the tv screen. “You told him he had a chance… You didn’t even let him run…” You commented when you heard the man’s name on the television. 

“He hurt you… He didn’t deserve a chance.” Yunho stated matter-of-factly, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. “I should have told you anyway… I should have taken you there so you had no reason to doubt and this wouldn’t have happened. Would you have left me though? Would you have been scared of me? Are you scared of me?” 

It was something that you still hadn’t thought about. Were you scared of him? Did you have a reason to be? If you were to try to leave him, would he off you like he offed the man that hurted you? It’s not like you wanted to leave him though… He was still the Yunho that you fell in love with, he clearly cared more about you than anything else. “I’m not scared… Not of you… But they know where we live… They could-” 

He shushed you quickly, although it wasn’t because he wanted you to be quiet, he just didn’t want you to finish whatever it was that you were thinking. “They won’t hurt you, they won’t come near the house anymore. Everyone knows now that you’re not to be touched, you’re not to be looked at even. You’ll be safe, you’ll be protected… I’ll make sure of that. You’re worth more to me than all of the money in the world… I won’t let anything happen to you, not anymore.” He pushed himself up off the chair that he had been sitting in, smiling warmly as he leaned in to kiss you softly. “Now get some sleep, love. I’ve got some calls to make, and then I’ll be right back up here with you… Okay?”

You sighed softly, sinking into the hospital bed and turning off the tv. “Are you gonna be safe?” You whispered, refusing to look at him as you asked the question. You weren’t sure how long he had been doing what he does, and it’s not like he had ever come home with anything that would indicate he was hurt in any way or in any sort of danger, but now that you did know what he does, you worried about him. Maybe that’s why he hid everything from you in the first place. He didn’t want you to worry about him, but now it was inevitable. 

“Don’t be silly, love.” He said lightly, playfully booping your nose. “I’m always safe. I told you not to worry about me, you need to think about getting better. Now…” He pulled the blankets up around you, tucking them in around your sides. “Get some rest, I’ll sneak you in something good to eat after you wake up.” 

He gave you a little wink before leaving the room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it once he was out in the hall. Things would be complicated now, nothing would be the same, and neither of you would be safe once you were out of the hospital. He’d keep you safe though, always, no matter what happens. 

[dottores]

ALIEN BLUES | PANTALONE

summary: a stressful day of dealing with the snezhnayan aristocracy leads to the challenge of you trying to convince your lover to come to bed and rest.

genre: not rlly sure how to categorize this, light angst, it’s mostly hurt/comfort i suppose

warnings: none, mentions of chronic illness, unedited (not run thru grammarly and partially written on my phone)

wordcount: 2.4k

notes: in honor of pantalone losing my poll i wrote a little thing for him. jk that's not rlly why i just wanted to. @saintdainsleif @mxnjiros @dxlucs @manjiroscum @suyacho @no3tis @dynalite @tokyometronetwork

When it comes down to it, the Regrator will always be a beggar boy playing dress-up--draped in the finest of silks, donning the most expensive gems, drowning in wealth, and yet still the court jester in the eyes of the old-blooded nobles of Snezhnaya. 

You watched him carefully from where you were curled up in your shared bed, eyes heavy and lips tugging downward. He was tired. You could tell from the way his eyes drooped and his shoulders were slumped. His skin was paler than usual, a sickly sort of pale that had your throat tight with worry. 

“Do not look at me like that,” Pantalone’s voice was hoarse and exhausted, taut with stress. He didn’t even have to look away from his parchment to know you were staring. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not giving you my pity,” you said quietly, resting your chin on your knees, tucked beneath the thick blankets. Outside, the harsh wind rattled against the glass of the window of Pantalone’s room, you could see the ice spreading across the bottom of the window.

“I do not need your lies either,” his voice was sharper this time. His gaze drew up from the desk, finally, violet eyes trained on you in a way that you knew was meant to be a warning, but it found itself rather ineffective considering the dark bags beneath them weighed his gaze down to the point he could barely hold them open, glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose.

“Join me in bed,” you said softly, hand slipping from beneath the cover so you could hold it out toward him. He shook his head, ready to look back at his letter, but you spoke again before he could pry his gaze from you. “I’m cold.”

Pantalone did not seem convinced, eyes dragging from your form to the fireplace blazing on the wall opposite the bed. 

“Please,” you tried again. “I really am cold, come feel my hands.”

“You’re never cold,” Pantalone murmured, but you couldn’t help the giddiness that built in your stomach as he pushed the chair back, wood dragging against wood as he rose to his feet and slowly made his way toward you. “You’re like your own personal furnace.”

His fingers were freezing, you realized, as the tips brushed your palm, but you didn’t let the shock of the sudden cold show, instead you wrapped your fingers around his, tugging gently to pull him on the bed with you. 

He followed too easily, knees hitting the mattress next to your hips as you laid back against the soft pillows, hovering over you. He was always docile after days like this--where he spent the morning, afternoon, and night dealing with the elite of Snezhnayan society, the nobles that the Fatui were forced to deal with in order to retain peace amongst the people. He had never gotten along well with any of the Snezhnayan nobles, an orphan born on the streets of Naveretrov on the Fontaine border, something that the blue bloods loved to make a mockery of, knowing there was little the Harbinger could do in retaliation lest he start a civil war or find himself being made an example of at the hands of the Tsaritsa. 

They called him the Begger King when he was within earshot, and they called him worse when he was out of earshot, spreading nasty rumors about how he had managed to pull himself from the troughs of poverty that ranged from selling his body to selling his soul. You didn’t know how much truth there was to any of the rumors, and you never cared enough to ask, whatever Pantalone had to do to survive was his business and his alone--the scars that littered his body were reminder enough. He didn’t need you, of all people, reopening old wounds. The nobles did enough of that. 

And there was nothing that could be done about it until the Fatui was in a stronger position, one that could solidify their position in Snezhnaya. Internal politics were complicated—they had the support of the Tsaritsa, but the Tsaritsa did not have the support of her people, and they could not risk an internal revolt when planning rebellion against the heavens. The people looked to the nobles for guidance and leadership, and the nobles were livid at the idea of the Fatui trying to usurp their influence. It was a game of politics, for now, and the nobles took advantage of their secured position, trying to flaunt their superiority to the Harbingers.

They would regret it before long. 

You brought your hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks gently and running your thumb over his chapped lips. Pantalone’s eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing his cheek as he kissed your right palm, and then your left.

“Rest with me,” you said, swallowing thickly as Pantalone leaned his face into your touch. You could feel him start to shake his head. “Please. Just for a bit.”

“I’m busy,” Pantalone said, and your own eyes slid shut as he dipped down, pressing his lips against yours softly, but only for a moment--just enough for you to catch the faint taste of iron on his lips. “I’ll join you in bed soon.”

‘Soon’ would be dawn, you had played this game with him numerous times before. The Harbinger would rather spend the hours he should be sleeping slaving away at his work than be late on an invoice or a letter for the Snezhnayan nobles, giving them more ammunition to use against him. 

But you couldn’t let him do that--not this time. The thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, the iron on his lips, the sickly pallor and cold skin, and the way he was trying to hide the way his breath was labored. 

His illness was acting up again, badly this time. 

Pantalone would never be like the Snezhnayan elite: his cursive was pretty, but not the antique sort of pretty that most of the old blood Snezhnayan nobles wrote in, it was sloppy in some areas, and too jagged in others; his way of speaking, too, was not something that was commonly found in wealthy Snezhnayans--he was careful to mask it when he was around others but whenever he was too exhausted from work, too tired to keep up the mask, you could hear the strange way his voice dipped, the more informal speech patterns.

Pantalone would never be like the Snezhnayan elite just as the Regrator would never be like the rest of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Years of barely surviving on the streets, unable to get the correct medications when he fell ill, left his body vulnerable and prone to illnesses, his lungs weak and his heart at risk. It came in waves: some days he was perfectly fine, able to keep up with Tartaglia easily when he trained; other days, he could barely push himself out of bed without his lungs giving out. The Regrator’s station came from his ability to keep the coffers full, not from his combat prowess, something that Arlecchino enjoyed pointing out. 

“One more mistake and you lose your place,” she mocked. “Perhaps your head too. Good luck preventing the coffers from drying during the winter again. Her Majesty will not be so gracious a second time.”

“I love you,” you said, and you hated how your voice cracked, and you hated even more how Pantalone looked away. He had always known you better than you knew yourself. He knew what you were thinking.

“I don’t want your pity,” he said again, but there was no heat behind his words as he stared at the fireplace, you watched the flames flicker against his glasses, reflecting in the violet of his eyes.

“You will be of no use to anyone tomorrow if you let this get worse,” you said, sitting up to brush a stray curl from out of his eyes. “Another day with the elites. You have to be on-“

“I know,” Pantalone interrupted, voice harsh. He shut his eyes for a second before repeating himself, softer this time. “I know. I’m not tired yet.”

You studied him for a moment, eyes tracing the dark bags beneath his eyes, but when your gaze met his, you knew he was telling the truth. You could see the way his mind was racing, the furthest place from sleep he could get. It didn’t matter how much his body tired physically, he would never sleep when he couldn’t shut off his mind.

“Lay with me then,” you offered. “At least allow your body to rest, even if your mind can’t.”

“I do not like being idle,” Pantalone refused, shaking his head. 

You leaned up, kissing the corner of his lips. “Tell me about what’s happening tomorrow,” you said quietly. “We won’t sleep until we’ve shut that pretty head of yours off.”

Pantalone let out a noise akin to a scoff but for a second, his eyes brightened in amusement. 

He had always been weak to praise.

Your arms tightened around his shoulders and Pantalone didn’t try to fight it when you pulled him to lay flush against you, the feathered pillows fluffed around your head. You slid his glasses off of his face as he rested his head against your chest, raising your hand to his hair to card your fingers through the dark locks, pulling the comforter over the two of you.

“It’s just another day of meetings,” Pantalone said. “You know how they go. I offer plans that will strengthen the economy so we can survive the winter, they shoot them down for being too radical all the while belittling me.”

You sighed softly, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. His eyes fluttered shut on instinct as he relaxed into you.

“I can talk to my father-“ you tried to offer, but Pantalone’s eyes were back open in an instant, cold and hard and trained on you. You sighed, already knowing what he was going to say but trying anyway, “He can help.”

“I don’t want help,” Pantalone said tightly, voice harsh. “Much less from blue blooded scum like him.” 

You went quiet, not sure how to respond. You understood his resentment against the nobles but… sometimes he was harsh, and you didn’t particularly care for your father but sometimes it was hard to remember that his words weren’t directed toward you, the venom behind them blinding. Pantalone seemed to have realized the implications of what he had said right away.

“I’m sorry,” Pantalone said after a moment. “I didn’t mean-“

“I know,” you sighed.

“Well, I meant it about him,” Pantalone corrected. “I just didn’t mean it about-“

“I know,” you stressed. “We’re supposed to be lulling you to sleep, not getting you riled up.”

“And whose fault is that?” Pantalone murmured but he was already letting his eyes slide shut again, so you decided to just drop it.

… Kind of.

“You should at least let Dottore-“

“Do not involve Dottore.”

Pantalone was now stiff in your arms, eyes sharp and alerts like a cornered deer. 

“They won’t say anything when he’s around,” you tried to convince him—anything to not have him torn down all day when he was already dealing with his illness. 

It was to no avail.

“I don’t care. I can handle this myself,” Pantalone said. “Do you understand?”

“… Yeah,” you finally agreed. “Yeah, I understand.”

He studied you for a moment, desperate to ensure you weren’t just talking to get him to shut up, even though he knew very well you would never do something that would make him uncomfortable. Once he got what he was looking for, he settled down again, melting in your touch. 

It was a comfortable silence that the two of you rested in, the flames crackling in fire place and the wind rattling the glass. The near argument had exhausted him, you could tell from the way his breath was a bit too heavy and a bit too shaky.

You would try to wake up before him in the morning, which would be a feat in itself considering he was usually up at the crack of dawn. You wanted to run down to the kitchens and have them cook up the herbal remedy that would ease the aches of his sickness… if only long enough to survive the meetings with the nobles.

Lost in thought, you were caught off guard as thin fingers wrapped around your own, giving a gentle squeeze to your hand.

“Thank you,” Pantalone murmured. 

You watched him, studying him for a moment, the way his expression was lax and his body was free of any tenseness as he looked up at you with lidded eyes, finally on the verge of sleep. He could only ever look so at ease when he was wrapped up in your arms.

Thank you for bearing with me when I’m difficult. Thank you for dealing with the bouts of hostility. Thank you for looking out for me because I can’t do it myself. Thank you for loving me, you’re the first person who ever has.

All of the things that he would never be able to tell you out loud swam behind the violets of his eyes as he looked up at you—for as much as Pantalone was the silver tongue of the Fatui, it became twisted and tangled whenever it came to expression any emotion besides anger and resentment… especially around you. You could only give him a small, pained smile.

“Your stubbornness will be the death of you,” you said softly, running your fingers through the thick, black hair. And it was not a figurative saying or exaggeration—it would kill him, he’d push himself until he was on death’s door and then he would keep pushing, trying to prove his worth to people who would never accept him. You were watching him kill himself and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Pantalone didn’t respond, but his eyes didn’t meet yours this time, the closest thing to acknowledging that you might be right. Your throat felt swollen as you kissed the top of his head again, holding him just a bit tighter as he finally began to doze off in your arms. 

[eurydicees]

3 or 20 with skts for the things you said prompt!!

i've been having a hard time recently so i gave all my issues to sakusa. i hope this turned out ok <3

as simple as brushing your teeth, or: some ways he learns to love you

summary: kiyoomi does not know when he last brushed his teeth. atsumu is kinder about it than expected. they love each other. prompt: things you said too quietly / things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear pairings: established kiyoomi sakusa/atsumu miya words: 1917 warnings: discussion of some not so pretty body stuff (kiyoomi doesn't brush his teeth for a while and they talk about it. that's the whole fic.), a one-line mention of throwing up after drinking

“It’s bothering you again, isn’t it?” 

Kiyoomi flinches, tearing his gaze away from himself in the mirror. He hadn’t heard Atsumu come over to their bathroom. He had left the door open, just intending to grab some lotion before exiting again, and Atsumu must have caught sight of him from the hallway. 

Living together has been good mostly, even if that was slightly unexpected. Sharing his space has never come naturally to Kiyoomi, but Atsumu has been as accommodating as he can be and so allowing his boyfriend of two years a place in his apartment so far has been a net positive. 

It’s only been a few months though and Kiyoomi forgets sometimes that Atsumu is there. He forgets that when he stares at himself in the mirror and makes faces at his reflection, there’s the risk of Atsumu catching him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kiyoomi says stiffly. He turns away from Atsumu to look at his reflection again. “Nothing is bothering me.” 

At the edge of his peripheral vision, Atsumu crosses his arms, leaning against the arch of the bathroom doorway. “Babe, something is always bothering you. And I see you grimacing every time you bite something too hard. Don’t think I don’t notice. Your teeth are hurting you again.” 

“My teeth are fine.” 

Atsumu is frowning, Kiyoomi knows he must be even if he isn’t looking at the doorway. “You don’t have to lie to me about it, Omi. If you’re in pain then—” 

“I’m not in pain,” Kiyoomi snaps. It comes out harsher than he wanted it to, but standing in their tiny bathroom with its bright white lighting and wide, imposing mirror, he’s beginning to feel a little like a caged animal. “I told you. My teeth are fine.” 

Atsumu is quiet for a minute, and Kiyoomi almost thinks he’s going to change the topic. But then again, Atsumu Miya has never once been able to let something go. “How long has it been then?” 

“How long has what been?” There’s a crisp annoyance in Kiyoomi’s words. 

“Since you brushed your teeth.” 

Kiyoomi stills. He feels a little breathless as he runs his tongue over his upper row of teeth. He can feel the buildup of plaque and a tooth juts out at an odd angle, a product of not having worn his retainer as a teenager. Another tooth is starting to feel much sharper than it used to. “That’s none of your business.” 

Atsumu snorts. “As the guy kissing you on the daily, it feels like a little bit my business.” 

“Well no one is fucking forcing you to do that!” Kiyoomi’s snap is cold and cruel, like a slap to the face or like biting straight into ice. 

Atsumu recoils, uncrossing his arms and straightening up. “No, no one’s forcing me to do it, I like doing it. I’m just—brushing your teeth is kind of a significant self-care thing, Omi.” 

And suddenly Kiyoomi is so fucking tired. “Just leave it alone.” 

“If it’s been so long that it hurts to chew, then I feel like I’m right to be worried.” 

“It doesn’t hurt to chew.” 

Atsumu sighs, and Kiyoomi loves him for caring, he does, but he didn’t—he didn’t ever want to have to have this conversation. He knows it’s disgusting. He’s perfectly well aware that it is. He also knows its unhealthy, and he knows that he should just go to a dentist who will tell him to stop being a disgusting fucking child and brush his teeth. Not in those exact words probably, but it would sting like that. 

“Omi. Babe. Kiyoomi.” Atsumu steps forward, and Kiyoomi doesn’t react, doesn’t turn as Atsumu puts a hand at his elbow. “Why are you fighting me about this?” 

“I’m not—” 

“Kiyoomi.” 

Atsumu is serious, drawing a hard line in the sand with just the tone of his voice. He actually wants to talk about this and Kiyoomi kind of wants to cry or lash out or storm off and he doesn’t know which of the three will hurt least. 

“It’s disgusting,” he murmurs, low under his breath. He doesn’t think he actually wants Atsumu to hear it, doesn’t want him to know: know the truth of the mouth he kisses, know the shame of the boy he thinks he loves. “I know it is. You don’t have to tell me.” 

Atsumu steps closer, moving to stand behind him and hooking his chin on his shoulder. “Didn’t catch that first part, baby. What do I not have to tell you?” 

His words are suddenly achingly soft and crying is starting to seem like the best option. Kiyoomi doesn’t deserve this tenderness. His teeth hurt and he doesn’t deserve Atsumu’s kindness, much less this intimacy. 

“I’m disgusting,” Kiyoomi says, louder, and his voice cracks. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

In the mirror, Kiyoomi sees as Atsumu lifts his head with the concern in his expression only growing. He puts his hands on Kiyoomi’s waist and guides him in spinning around so they face each other. “You aren’t disgusting.” 

“I don’t remember,” Kiyoomi says quietly, “when the last time I brushed my teeth was. And now they’re—fucking rotting out of my mouth and you’re never going to want to kiss me again and—” 

“Kiyoomi.” Atsumu doesn’t wait for him to finish panicking, cutting off the ramble before he can truly begin spiraling. “Breathe. You’re okay. Your mouth is not rotting and I am always—always—going to want to kiss you.” 

Kiyoomi looks at him then, really, truly looks at him, at all of the worry and the love in the lines of his expression, and then he feels the tears start to spill over. He squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly feeling so fragile and so far past broken. 

“I’m trying,” he chokes out. “But I’m—it’s—it’s gross and—” 

“Breathe,” Atsumu says again, running his hands in smooth, even motions up and down Kiyoomi’s arms. “I’m not gonna deny that it’s kind of gross, baby. But it doesn’t make you disgusting and it is never, ever going to make me love you less. There is nothing you could do to make me love you less, no matter what habits you have or don’t have that I don’t get. Okay?” 

Kiyoomi swallows. His voice small, he whispers, “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Atsumu says firmly. “Do you want to talk to me about it now? For real, without lying?” 

“I don’t know why it’s so hard,” Kiyoomi confesses. He’s staring at Atsumu’s mouth, at his unchapped lips and the gentle curve of a smile that perpetually rests there. “I know it’s disgusting and I know it’s unhealthy but I hate the sensation and so I can’t make myself do it. Despite being an adult and despite it—hurting. And the longer I wait, the worse it feels to try. And there’s blood and it hurts and—I can’t make myself do it, so I just don’t, and—and I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Atsumu says first. He puts a hand on Kiyoomi’s cheek to wipe away some of the tears. At some point, he had stopped crying and now he’s left feeling like a small child worn out from a meltdown. “I’m just trying to understand. I’m not judging you.” 

“You are,” Kiyoomi snaps, wrenching himself out of Atsumu’s grip. “Everyone does. Don’t think I don’t notice.” 

Atsumu looks at him for a long, tense moment. Then, “And when have I ever been like everyone else? Omi, I just don’t want you to be in pain anymore.” 

“I’m dealing with it.” 

“You aren’t and you know it.” Atsumu takes a small step forward again, pressing Kiyoomi against the sink. He takes his hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “You’re so thorough in every health thing but this. What makes this so different?” 

“I don’t know,” Kiyoomi murmurs, looking down at their clasped hands. Shame washes over him like a river, like muscle memory, like déjà vu. “It just hurts. Whether I do it or not. So I don’t. I’m sorry, please don’t—” 

Atsumu hums a little, low in his throat and Kiyoomi cuts himself off. “Stop apologizing. I’m not upset with you. I just hate that you’re hurting and I can’t do anything about it.” 

“It’s my own issue,” Kiyoomi mutters. “Consequences of my own actions. Lack of actions.” 

Atsumu takes a slow breath. “Maybe, but I’m still going to be here for you. That’s kind of part of the deal of dating me, Omi. You’re stuck with me.” 

Kiyoomi snorts. “Okay.” 

“What if we do it at the same time every night?” Atsumu offers. “Together.” 

“Maybe.” Kiyoomi shrugs noncommittally. 

“It’s a yes or no question, babe.” 

Kiyoomi takes a breath. Atsumu is smiling, hopeful with his stupid perfect teeth all on display. Kiyoomi kind of wants to kiss him but his own mouth is disgusting and so he doesn’t. 

“It’s going to be gross,” Kiyoomi says. “There will be blood. There always is.” 

“Okay.” 

“I don’t want you to see me like that.” It’s murmured under his breath, low and unsure of itself. “All…gross.” 

Atsumu lets go of his hands and puts his own hands to Kiyoomi’s cheeks again, cupping his face in his palms. For a moment, Kiyoomi is so small there, and so protected. 

“Kiyoomi Sakusa,” Atsumu presses a kiss to his forehead, soft and cold. “I want to love you for the rest of my life. That means there will be moments when one or both of us do gross things, or embarrassing things. And none of it will change the fact that I love you. If brushing our teeth together will help get it done, I don’t care if I see any blood, or plaque, or old food, or whatever. I just want you to be healthy, and not hurting.” 

“One time I did it, I cried myself hoarse,” Kiyoomi says. It’s plainly spoken, matter of fact, but even Kiyoomi can hear the insecurity in it. “It’s pathetic.” 

“You watched me moan and groan for a week after I slipped and fell at a meet and greet in front of some fans. It was pathetic, and I know you still love me.” 

“It’s dirty. Disgusting.” 

“You held my hair back while I vomited for an hour after drinking too much with Bokuto. You were very brave and sweet about it, even if you made fun of me the entire next day. And you still love me.” 

“It’s different.” 

Atsumu sighs. He leans forward, resting their foreheads together gently. “Omi. Let me see you. Let me help you. It won’t change my opinion of you. Trust me.” 

Kiyoomi makes eye contact for a long, quiet, heartbreak of a moment. Then, finding nothing but honesty and love in Atsumu’s gaze, he closes his own eyes. “I love you.” 

“I know.” Atsumu’s breath is warm on his cracked lips. “So will you let me be with you on this?” 

Kiyoomi exhales slowly, measured and controlled. He’s been wearing face masks more constantly than usual recently, and a not insignificant part of that is the desire to hide his teeth. And fuck, he’s tired of hiding, and he’s tired of his mouth aching, and he’s scared and he feels dirty and gross and—

“Omi?” 

And Atsumu loves him. Is here with him, without shame. Just with love and care. 

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says quietly. “We have to do it now or I’ll never do it. But okay. Okay.” 

When he opens his eyes, Atsumu is smiling. “Okay. Let’s do it then.” 

[j0kers-light]

Hiiiii!!! Can I be known as 🥁anon? I was the one who requested Jokers music taste and the instrument one!! (So glad you liked them btw, you write so welll!!!!!!)

How about 10 signs that joker is in love/likes someone and his love language? I mainly imagine him as someone who denies the idea (just like in HL) but still acts on his feelings in his own way- maybe leaving gifts around and denying any sort of accountability for them?

“I’m telling you, you’ve had that necklace on before” - “Huh? I didn’t even know you liked hand bags.” - “You SERIOUSLY forgot you owned that car?”

Welcome 🥁 anon!!

A huge hey hi to you! Yes, your requests were so much fun to fill, I hope I did them some justice! Ahh! Thank you, I'm happy you love mi work! 😭😭🥹

Lol, ten signs that Joker is in love? YOU MEAN, TEN THINGS HE HATES ABOUT YOU? 🥴 sorry not sorry.

Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy 🥁 anon! 🖤✨

Denial is a river in Egypt because Joker refuses to admit that he loves you! But he's a man where the saying, "Actions speak louder than words” applies. He won't say it (lol Meg from Hercules) but there will be signs he’s in love.

Joker is already attentive but he's even more so as he begins to accept his feelings. He listens and retains the tiniest details about you so he can use the information for later. J shocks you when he remembers your obscure food order (and the extra sauces) when you only said it once in passing three months ago. Joker doesn't know, but his love language is heavy influenced by actions.

Another sign is Joker being more supportive. He's always in your corner motivating you to do anything you set your mind to but now he's more focused on your future with him. If you want a promotion, one is suspiciously available the next week or if you can't take the stress of your job and want to quit, Joker will offer to support you financially. You ask for it, Joker will make it happen.

Joker becomes more protective than ever. If the security cameras and secret detail wasn't enough proof how much Joker loves you, the way his eyes never leave your sight in public, the way he rests his hand on your lower back in crowds, or protects you from danger (that he may or may not have caused) is telling. Joker has never been a knight in shining armor before and he loves having something to protect. He will always protect his Light and takes his responsibility seriously.

Once he admits he's falling hard, Joker will become clingy and start introducing his love language of physical touch to you more. For years, he never let anyone close but you have that honor now. He holds you close while you're cooking, he plays with your hands during movie night marathons, and he denies enjoying cuddles—he's just cold—but you know better. Joker can't stop touching you in someway shape or fashion. He’s addicted now.

Which brings us to another sign. Gift giving is another one of Joker's strong love languages but this man will deny deny deny ever getting you anything!! He leaves them around for you to find and dramatically gasps when you do. "Gee Bunny, I don’t know why there's a shiny new hand bag on your bed.. I didn't know ya liked 'em." Or, "Ya don't know your own closet Bunny? This new winter coat still has the uhh, tag on it." Followed by a, "What a coincidence! Twenty-nine reported subway muggings just this week and you win a uhhh surprise car! Don't ya re-mem-ber entering that contest doll?" Joker loves buying you things but he sucks at lying.

Joker tends to forget his version of love is not normal so he gets possessive a lot. He's a jealous man by nature and if he sees competition, he will eliminate it. You don't need to know why the flirtatious guy at the front lobby no longer works there, or the guy that gave you his number was found dead the following day.. The thing is! Joker finally admitted that he loves you! He will not let anyone take you away from him.

Another sign from Joker is his sudden willingness to communicate. J is a mysterious, closed off individual. Its an honor to know anything about him so when J sits you down and opens up about his time spent in Arkham or explains what his childhood was like (but cautious, it could still be lies)— consider it a miracle. Joker is opening up to you! He wants you to know more about him and his shy, hesitant eyes staring into yours shows that he's vulnerable doing so. Don't take advantage of him in this state or you'll lose him forever.

Speaking of forever, you know Joker is all about planning. His backup plans have backup plans from B-Z. One day he found himself staring up at the ceiling planning on how to make things official with you and now it’s all he can think about. You’re not a secret and he’s tired of treating you like one. It'll be dangerous if he announces you as his girl, (you'll never be safe) but Joker wants the world to know that you love him so he stares off into the void and plots a way for it to work.

Contrary to popular belief Joker is not cold hearted. He can be passionate when the need arises and he cranks it up to 100% with you. Joker never had a healthy relationship so he tends to forget the intensity in which he loves you. He has so much emotion to give that he literally leaves you breathless. His kisses are greedy and desperate, and the way he clings to you during sex makes you combust with love. This man doesn't even know he can destroy you with a single touch and it’s better he remains blissfully unaware.

And lastly. The ultimate sign that Joker loves you. The moment Joker takes you to his main hideout, walking hand in hand, where anyone can see— is the moment you know he loves you. When Joker exposes you to his world, there’s no going back. You’re the one and when he orders all of his men in for a manatory meeting you're in tears. It’s finally happening.

"Good evening gentle men. I have a special announcement tonight." Joker pulls you to stand in front of him and proceeds to wrap his arms around you possessively.

Your heart is beating out of your chest while all of these men stare at you in shock. You don't blame them.

Joker is nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck but you miss the dark gleam in his eyes. They spell murder for anyone that dares to defy him. He scanned the crowd, looking for any naysayers.

"This is my Bunny and I'll kill anyone.. who's gotta problem with it."

[sky-kiss]

Hello, sky-kiss! Please help me. I've had the picture in my head for days. Imagine a reader who came to relax in Sharess' Caress and heard about Raphael there. The person has not seen Raphael before and has no idea he is a real devil. It's supposed to be just fetishistic roleplay like with the Stern Librarian. The reader wants to buy sex with the Devil.

What Raphael's actions and reactions will be? I can't imagine it! Help! This situation could happen to Raphael theoretically. You can simply answer me or create a text sketch as you wish. *gasps* Please! *died of shame*

A/N: I’m sorry this isn’t more, but didn’t want to leave you hanging. G/N reader. Also, apologies. I don’t really write in second-person. It was an attempt lol.

_____

The Devil’s Den is excess made manifest. The smell of roses, cherries, and chocolate, all sickly-sweet notes, bleed together with the subtler underpinnings of sulfur and sex. You linger on the threshold. No locked doors: the madame had assured you the devil’s door was always open. Still, there’s something, shimmering and tickling at your skin. A warding spell, perhaps. 

And lingering by the decanter, the devil himself. Looking at him, it would have been impossible to guess the hour. Raphael’s appearance is immaculate: a handsome man, aging gracefully into the later stretches of middle-age. His dress is rich. The smile he offers you is friendly, presuming intimacy entirely unearned. You don’t mind; it feels genuine. He holds his arms out wide, sweeping into a low bow. “Ah, fate does smile upon me; my prayers are answered.” He took a testing sip from his brandy. “Company fine enough to match my drink.” 

You chew the inside of your cheek. His voice has a velvety quality to it, intimate, skating across your skin like a caress. Still, you linger, unable to enter. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end, and gooseflesh on your arms. It’s like being in the room with a predator, stalking and hungry. 

He holds a second glass out to you. “Come in, my dear. The hour is late; the night is cold. And I swear to you: the fantasies in that pretty head pale in comparison to reality.” 

You go to him, and the door of the Den swings shut. 

He smiles, all teeth. “No interruptions. Here. You’ll like it.” Raphael presses the goblet into your hand. Heat licks off his skin, unnatural. It’s like he’s running a fever, but there’s no hint of sickness or sweat on him. “I won’t ask your name, not yet, but allow me to provide my own. Raphael, at your service.” 

“I was worried it was too late.” 

“How dear of you, little thing. So considerate.” He leads you to a seating area, the grand bed still in view, full of promise. Your attention keeps flicking to it. Seeing him and the room, your want shifts, becoming less ephemeral, more tangible. Desire curls low in your belly, heat chased by fine brandy. “Now indulge my curiosity, kitten. Why have you come?” You flush, glancing down. Raphael clucks his tongue. He reaches out, curling a finger beneath your chin. His skin feels like burning. “None of that. What’s a touch of honesty between friends?” 

“The Madame said they had a devil on retainer. I wanted…” you clear your throat, squaring your jaw. He’s here for a reason. This is his profession; why should you feel ashamed? The devil seems to smile alongside the thought. “I’d lay with a devil.”

“Carnal pleasure, is it?” He leans in close, breath gusting over your cheek. “How unimaginative, pet. There are prettier gifts I might offer you.” 

Raphael’s left-hand traces the bones in your wrists, stroking upwards to your forearm. The innocuous touch leaves you shifting nearer, searching for stimulation. “Prettier gifts?” 

“Mmm, secret fantasies. Power, prestige…I could manifest it all. For a price.” 

But your wants are simpler. You shake your head. “Another time…I just want…” You lick your lower lip. “You’re handsome.” 

“I know, sweetling, but kind of you to say.” His eyes, a pretty amber, glitter in the low light. The alarm peels again. “Wanting is simpler. And I’m of a mind to help you.” The hand skates higher, up and over your hips, your sternum, to the base of your throat. “There’s only one thing, a trifling matter, and then…” he smiles, leaning in close. “You will have your devil.” 

“Anything.” 

“Sweet words, although dangerous. Say them again: promise me anything.”

Your throat feels tight. “Anything, Raphael.” 

“Good.” He snaps his finger, fire licking from the gesture. His expression has shifted, still cordial, still handsome, but there’s a note of disinterest. As if the game has been too simple to satisfy him. He’s still touching you, though, and it’s difficult to focus on the minutia. He presses a quill into your hand. “Sign this, little one, and we can begin.” 

It never crosses your mind that it could be real. You sign your name without thinking, without reading, and the devil sighs. Raphael leans back, shrugging. “Not the fine company I’d been hoping for, alas.” You reach for him. The dangerous glint is back in his eyes, a wicked smile. “Ah, ah, dear. Your devil awaits you elsewhere. And they are ever so eager to meet you.” He dips into a half-bow. “Give them my regards, won’t you?” 

He snaps his finger. The Den fades, replaced with a richer room. The heat borders on unbearable. The bed remains. Your eyes widen. A devil awaits you, hellfire glinting in his eyes. Sharp fangs glitter in his smile, nakedly delighted. 

“Raphael sends me such a sweet gift. How rarely considerate of him. Come to, little thing. Come, and let Haarlep taste you.” 

And how could you resist?

[waterlilyspad]

The Horseman's bride. chapter 1 (part 1) Calm before the storm.

I figured it out :) horary! Happy Dia De Los Muertos btw you guys!

No warnings only wholesome stuff this time.

“Stop it!” You laugh as you push away fromJason, your best friend, “No no! I need to get the perfect shot so stay still!” He laughs as he points the camera to your nose, you pout as he hits record. “You’re a piece of work alright, maybe I should be filming you.” You tease as he zooms out, you kick your sneakers as you walk down the hallway, your heels kicking into the plastic tile of the highschool floor as Jason films from behind. “Well I have to keep going, don’t move too much or else it’s gonna hurt more.” He says in a playful tone as you pause, you turn around and your sneakers squeak on the floor as you face him. “What did you say?” You ask with dread watching him as he holds the camera in front of his face. “You nearly twisted your ankle all the way round, poor thing.” He says as you march up to him something isn’t right. Approaching him you yank the camera from his face, a now headless Jason stares you on. “Now hold still.” He says with two voices overlapping, you stumble back in your dream, the tiles giving out from beneath you as you fall screaming into a dark pit, you're rudely awoken by fear.

 “AHHH!” You scream looking up only to see a man looming over you, flying out of the sheets, your arm swings to punch only to fly at nothing. The person next to you backs up with their hands up in caution. “Ahh…Oh my god, oh my god it didn’t land, It didn’t land!” You say before exclaiming, your head swings to your right as you see the headless rider from earlier now standing next to your bed his hands are up and splayed open as he speaks “Breathe, I’m not going to hurt you.” He assures as you start to feel unwell just looking at his cauterized neck peg. There really is nothing there. Not to mention that jack o lantern from earlier is now missing. He really is something, just the full body of a man without a head.

Your eyes scan him top to bottom, he’s wearing a worn tunic, the long sleeves rolled up and held in place by two pins, his arms littered with scratch marks and scars, he has high waisted brown pants held up by two gold buttons and a leather belt not of this era. Slow your eyes travel from his shoulder to across the room, your environment is warm, the morning light glowing off the old rustic shuttered windows tinted with fog and worn from the centuries, there’s a blend of wood and brick, and everything from the wooden furniture to the appliances like the stove and fireplace all seem small and quaint, it’s a kind of peace that the world has long since lost, and a treasure trove of the old, this is a very old cottage. The place manages to retain heat pretty well and thank goodness it’s usually cold this time of year. Your eyes track around the small house before landing on your sheets, scanning down and noticing the bandages lying on

the bed next to your bandaged foot, it’s been wrapped pretty well however it’s radiating with pain and it dawns on you as you lift the covers, you’ve twisted it pretty badly and the rider was in the midsts of setting your almost sideways facing foot. “Ohhh goodddd ohhh..” You groan looking away, you've always been squeamish when it comes to bodily harm so you're trying your best not to freak out, not to mention the pinnacle of body horror is standing right next to you. Slowly your eyes peep open as you look away from your foot. “W-were you helping me? With my ankle?.” You asked as the rider stayed where he was. “Yes I was, and I swear mam, I’m almost done, this won’t take much longer if you let me work on you.” He replies as you take a moment, looking over his hands, they look calloused and worn, he probably knows what he’s doing. “Okay...but I better not see you doing any funny business, or else.” You warn, even though you’re lying straight through your teeth, you know nothing about self defense, but you probably know how to kick a man in the crotch so maybe there’s some truth to your threat. “You have my word.” He says before walking to the foot of the cot and kneeling down. You refuse to look as he lifts your achilles heel gently, you then begin to hear the sound of wood clacking. “What are you?!” You say looking over as he holds some wooden sticks. “Brace for your ankle, now settle down dear and breathe.” He says as you cover your eyes, your pulse quickens as pressure around your leg grows, he’s tightly wrapping the brace, you breathe in and out with your mouth and nose, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, a headless body is just wrapping my very twisted ankle it’s fine it’s it’s fine! “It’s done.” He says standing next to you as you peek from between your fingers, the brace is secured and it isn’t as tight as your mind was telling you, and you give your leg a couple of small movements, not one inch of pain comes to you. Looking up at him you give a weary smile. “Thanks..” You say nervously as he replies “Your welcome.” 

You tap your fingers on the pillow in your lap as the rider cooks you a meal on the stove, as you watch a million questions fly through your head. Where are we? What year is it again? What was all of that from last night? Am I alive or not? You're itching to get some answers, it’s driving you nuts. “So.” You say out loud purposely looking off in the distance to avoid eye contact? Maybe his eyes are invisible. “What’s uh your name?” The rider’s body slightly turns as he lets out a chuckle. “Easy my name is…” He says before going silent, you sit there as he fails to complete the answer. “Is?” You ask as he remains quiet. “Hell…What is my name?” He says lowly as your jaw drops. “How old are you?! All of this I mean; you are from the colonial days or something right?” You ask in surprise “Yes I am, the year was 1775 when I died and-” He explained as you interjected “All that time what that like 200 years is! And you don’t remember your name?!” You exclaim as the rider turns his entire body. “I…Hell I guess not.” He answers as the room goes silent, your face is painted with bemusement, the guy can kill anything and command the demons of the forest, but not remember his own name, okay. “Okay next question, you said you died in 1774 but if the revolution was in 1776 doesn’t that make you the…The guy from the myth?” You ask as he asks “Pardon?” He asks back, “yeah, the headless horseman, you’ve got his ax and everything? You chop people’s heads off if they don’t behave on Halloween or something and disappear in the morning.” You explain as he stands silently. “Would you like me to burn your oatmeal?” He replies, turning back to the stove as you exclaim. “No! Wait, is that what you're making?! Please don’t I love oatmeal!” You beg as he laughs pouring the oatmeal into a bowl on the table. He lifts the wooden tray and brings the dish to you. “Now sit up and try not to spill any of it.” He says lowering the breakfast onto the pillow on your lap, it looks

amazing, apple slices with oatmeal. “Don’t suppose you have any sugar?” You ask as he walks back to the kitchen returning with a jar. “No sugar but I do have honey.” He says as you beam, “I love honey!” You say with enthusiasm opening the lid and spooning the glowing honey into your bowl of warm hot cereal. “Yeah I loved it too.” He says with a sigh as you pause mid bite. “Whah.” You mouth as he laughs, “Right, why would I make food if I can’t eat any of it? Well I make food for my neighbors, it’s how I keep a good rapport with the community ‘round here.” He explains as you eat another spoonful and gulp to ask another question. “That’s sweet, who are your neighbors? Wait no, hold on, am I dead or alive? Where are we? When are we?” You ask as he pulls up a small rickety chair. “Well you see I didn’t wanna tell you until you were finished but yes you're alive but you're also dead.” He explains as you look on with confusion. “Uhm okay? Did that guy get me last night or?” The rider answers almost immediately. “Audrey May you are between life and death, you are neither alive or dead, what you are now is your very soul, last night around sundown I have reason to believe your body was taken possession by a vengeful spirit, I don’t know who they are but I have a few good guesses, that “man” that chased you last night was a wraith who appeared to you as your greatest fear. What matters is that I help you back to health, we get “Married in 3 days on halloween when the barrier between earth and the inbetween open, and I help you back to your body and bring back whatever spirit has hold of you now. You may ask your questions at this time.” He says as you sit completely still trying to process all of that information as oatmeal falls off your spoon and back into the bowl. “Ah…Hold on…So someone else is in my body.” You ask “Yes.” He replies, “Currently they are inhabiting your body, what they could be planning or doing is a complete mystery but rest assured Dullahans like me have one goal.” He explains as you learn. “Yeah and that is?” You ask as he explains “To send wayward spirits to their eternal rest.” He says in a low tone as you gulp, he’s not going to send YOU to rest is he? Well he just said something about getting married so…Now hold on. “Oh my god, wait! What the fuck was this all about?!” You yell flying your hand up to his face, a ring made of crystal gleams on your finger as he sighs. “Yes, if I hadn’t taken claim of you those other creatures would have, that’s why it’s not safe for you anywhere until the day of halloween when we marry, we’ll “Elope” after the ceremony and only then will I join you outside where we’ll find your culprit.” He explains as you give hima look. “Fine I’ll play your game, but don’t think for a second I’m just gonna magically be your cute and quirky fiance, I barely know you or anything that’s going on.” You say as he crosses his large arms. “we are friends here to help-…Well I would say eachother but mostly me. So again no funny business, do we have a deal?” You say as you hold out your right hand. “Yes, we have a deal.” He laughs, extending his right hand to shake yours. As the two of you shake your eyes, catch something fluttering through the wooden beams on the ceiling. “Oh god what’s that?!” You ask about sinking into the bed.

[jokertrap-ran]

BAD MEDICINE ~Infectious teachers~ [PC GAME] Kashu Remu (Chemistry) Route Translations (True END)

MC’s name is retained as the original MC name Kawana Hina.

* Words within ' ' are spoken in English – *Spoiler free : Translations under cut!

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Bad END / Good END / Ruin END / True END

Kashu: Hey, hey~ Hina-chan!

Kashu: Are you here~? Let’s go do an experiment~

Hina: !?

Female Student A: Oh, looks like he’s here to fetch you again.

Female Student B: He’s always so diligent about it, isn’t he? You should go.

Hina: Come on, guys~ Stop making fun of me!

Female Student A: We’re not making fun of you. We’re just stating facts, aren’t we? He comes by every day, so we’re already used to it.

Hina: Ughhh.

Kashu: Hey, you done yet~? Should I wait outside>?

Female Student B: Go on, what are you waiting for? Don’t keep him waiting.

Hina: Y-Yeah. I’ll be going off then. See you guys tomorrow!

Female Student A: See you!

Hina: (Aw man… I know that he does this every day, but I still can’t get used to it. It’s so embarrassing!)

———————————————

Kashu: …So? How is it?

Hina: It’s delicious…

Kashu: Really? Do you really mean what you say? Is it delicious? You’re not lying, are you?

Hina: I mean it. This really is delicious. I’m actually surprised at how good it tastes…

Kashu: Yaay! Did it cheer you up?

Hina: Yup. Thank you for the food, it was really yummy.

Kashu: Ehehe~ I made you happy~ I’m happy if you’re happy~

Kashu: Now then, I should take this down…

Hina: And your efforts make me so much happier.

Kashu: Hm? What? Were you saying something?

Hina: Nope, nothing. I look forward to whatever you cook up next.

Kashu: Okay!

Hina: (It hasn’t been long since that incident, but… he’s changed.)

Hina: (He still likes to experiment and acts on his own whims and whimsies, but at least he doesn’t do anything to hurt me anymore.)

Hina: (Instead, he’s been finding and doing all these little things to make me happy…)

Hina: (Is this really real? I’m not dreaming, am I?)

Kashu: But…

Hina: What’s wrong?

Kashu: I’ve been a little dissatisfied recently, see~?

Hina: Eh?

Kashu: Why are you a student?

Hina: …Uh, what? Because I’m studying in this school…? There’s not much I can do about that fact.

Kashu: I know~ Had you not been a student here, we wouldn’t be meeting each other like this at all.

Kashu: But still, why are you a student? I’m not okay with that~

Kashu: Do you get me? I’m reaaaally disappointed by it.

Hina: …Ooookay?

Kashu: I’d have pushed you down right now if you weren’t a student here.

Hina: Huh!? *cough, cough*!!!

Kashu: Eh~? What happened? Are you okay? Is it a cold?

Hina: N-No! *cough* T-That just took me by surprise! cough

Kashu: Is it really anything to be surprised about?

Hina: Err, yes? A little?

Hina: (…It should be surprising! Realistically speaking!!! Very surprising!)

Kashu: Hmm? It’d be bad if I did that since you’re a student, no? Even I know that~

Hina: Y-Yeah. It’d be bad if that happened.

Kashu: I can’t even kiss you now, can I~? Even though I’m already doing it in secret~ But that was only a kiss to seal a promise, so it doesn’t count!

Hina: Y-Yeah.

Kashu: And it’d really suck if this continues~ I’ll always have to be holding myself back, won’t I~?

Kashu: And I can’t exactly make you stop attending, either. I wouldn’t be able to meet you here anymore, and it’d be unbearingly lonely.

Hina: That’s also true. Please bear with it.

Kashu: I will, but only because I don’t have a choice.

Kashu: …But…

Hina: B-But?

Kashu: This feeling… What is it, I wonder? I’ve never felt this way before, so I don’t really understand it.

Kashu: Say, do you know what this is?

Hina: Err, kinda? I might know.

Kashu: Wait, really!? Tell me!

Hina: Erm… But it’s not something you should really be asking others to spell out for you.

Kashu: …Really? But you’re not “others”.

Kashu: You’re someone who makes me feel at ease being around you, and you’re important to me.

Hina: T-The point still stands. Okay… maybe I should put it another way.

Hina: That’s precisely why I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.

Kashu: Hmmm? Really…?

Hina: (He’ll come to realize it someday…)

Hina: (That those feelings of his are affection or even love.)

Hina: (Although… I wonder when it started? Since when have I felt this way as well?)

Hina: Mmhm. Really. And that’s why…

Kashu: Oh?

Hina: You’ll realize what it is someday. And when the day comes, please share your findings with me.

Hina: I’ll wait however long you need. Even if it takes forever.

Kashu: Okay! I’ll try my best to figure it out so I don’t keep you waiting for long~

Hina: Mmhm.

Hina: (If he’s determined to figure it out, then I’ll wait until he does. I’ll wait for as long as he needs.)

Hina: (We’re stuck in our roles as a teacher and a student right now, so we still have a lot of time for him to figure it out…)

———————————————

And then— Several years later.

Kashu: This will allow us to identify the properties of the products produced during the process— an essential step.

Hina: (Just a little more… just a bit more! This is nerve-wracking… But it’s not like I can do anything!)

Hina: (That being said, he hasn’t failed yet. So, I’m sure the rest of the day will go equally smoothly!)

Hina: (Come on, you’ve got this! I believe in you, husband of mine!)

———————————————

Kashu: —And there you have it!

———————————————

Applause resounded through the venue.

Remu’s eyes, which had been facing the front, shifted— almost as if searching for something, or rather, someone.

Then, his eyes landed on me.

Seeing him grin, I nodded back up at him.

The applause around us continued as strong as ever, showing no sign of dying down. 　 The male host then posed him a question.   “What motivates you to experiment?”

———————————————

Kashu: Well…

Kashu: There is someone out there who rejoices whenever I succeed in my research.

Kashu: And whenever I see that smile of theirs, it makes me feel as if I can overcome anything and everything.

Kashu: Of course, I’m talking about—

Kashu: The person I love most, my wife.

[rivetgoth]

Would y’all hate me if I keep talking about my Beastars self insert 🙏 I’m going insane wrapping up my first semester of work while fighting a cold and having fun sorry

Anyway like I said he’s a Dalmatian & he’s mostly just me/my pupself in Beastars form. But he has like the doggy good boy gene so he was a good student through school and his family wanted him to go to a good puppy doggy university after but he was also always kind of a freakish outcast who was sorta quieter and less enthusiastic and warm than other doggies. When he’s trying to apply for uni and get his documents together he finds out his pedigree was falsified and he’s actually mixed like 2-3 generations back and part snake. His family has been purely Dalmatians since so he didn’t retain physical characteristics but it’s possible that it explains why he’s colder (literally) than other puppy doggies.

Anyway this devastates his sense of self and he starts spiraling and he starts going to like underground clubs and shit in the underbelly of the city and eventually through this meets Melon and becomes like totally enamored by him and he’s like I’ll be the perfect dog for him that I couldn’t be for my family. Melon is mean to him and treats him as like an accessory obviously. I picture him in collars and leashes and muzzles and stuff yknow. Puppy doggy gear.

Tangentially I feel like part of why I’ve never been able to engage much in like a “self shipping” community. Well besides the fact that in general as an adult I’m not particularly interested in engaging with fandom super deeply. Is that I feel like the culture there is 99% of the time about having your like wholesome fantasy life and all the posts ever are like “Imagine your F/O playing with your hair :3 DNI IF PROSHIP COMSHIP NEUTRAL” & like I don’t even know what that shit means anymore. To be honest like I’m an adult with weird interests I want my REAL LIFE relationships to be wholesome and loving and healthy obviously but I don’t think there’s ever been a fictional guy or girl I wanted to fuck that I didn’t also want to be cruel to me and with whom I didn’t want to play with freaky dynamics… 😭😭😭😭😭