#i need your hand but i don't want to burn it

[cherrygirlfriend]

the cons of long nails pairing: reader x stepbro!rafe synopsis: rafe's stepsister has acrylics on and can't touch herself so he helps her warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving) MDNI! wc: 700it's the second day of my birthday week celebration! was this inspired by me doing my own acrylics and being unable to do anything with them? mayhaps. real ones know the struggle (˶˃⤙˂˶) below are the kind of nails i picture her to have!! she’s a lilac princess ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

your freshly manicured nails were digging into the skin of his shoulders; loud whines escaping your lips as rafe's were slowly making their way down your body; leaving a trail of warmth every time his lips made contact with your bare skin, small gasps escaping you whenever he nipped at your skin.

"quit whining..." rafe groaned into the skin of your abdomen, before he lifted his head slightly, the blonde's half-lidded eyes looked up at you, his pupils blown out, a small grin creeping up his lips, "or i'm gonna stop right now."

"you won't." you said with pursed lips, no confidence in your voice, causing him to grip your thighs tightly, his eyes narrowing as a wicked grin overtook his lips.

"are you sure you wanna test that?" your stepbrother grabbed one of your wrists, looking at your nails, "just had to get your nails done so now you can't even please yourself, hm? had to come to beg your stepbrother to help you."

"i didn't beg..." you mumbled, your face feeling hot with embarrassment.

"oh, really?" rafe snorted, "rafeyy, please, i got my nails done but 'm really horny, can you help me?" he spoke, mocking your tone and the earlier words you used on him, causing you to try and turn your head to hide your face, only for him to roughly grab you by your chin, making you look at him. "don't turn away from me. you're gonna stop whining, aren't you?"

his tone left no room for argument, so you simply nodded, letting out a timid, "yes." as you leaned back on the bed, rafe letting go of your wrist, his lips continuing their descent to your aching pussy, the blonde's long fingers slipping under the waistband of your soaked panties.

the time it took him to slide your panties down your legs was almost tortuous, rafe no doubt making sure to go as slow as possible, wanting every part of you craving and aching for him.

he pushed apart your legs, a trail of wet kisses pressed on your inner thigh while you held your breath in anticipation for when you'd finally feel him where you needed to; your head starting to feel dizzier the longer he took.

but when his tongue flicked at your puffy clit, your breath escaped your throat, mixing in with a moan you'd been holding back. rafe chuckled, the sound causing vibrations to run through your body, shivers climbing down your spine.

without even giving you a moment of respite, his tongue gathered up some of the wetness from your entrance, bringing it to your clit as his lips attached themselves to the swollen bud.

you arched into his touch, gripping his hair as moans and whimpers left your lips, each flick of his tongue on your clit causing another flash of electricity to crawl up your spine as he sucked on it, drawing out sensations you hadn't experienced before that moment.

rafe was gripping your thighs so roughly you were sure it'd leave bruises in the shape of his hands. still, you couldn't bring yourself to care, not when your eyesight was blurry just from having his lips around your clit, not when the burning feeling in your abdomen was so strong even though he'd only been attacking your clit for minutes; not when you didn't even have any concept of time thanks to him.

you were trying to moan his name, but your brain was so muddled by the things he was making you feel, you weren't quite sure what you let out of your mouth, but rafe still knew the moment you came by the loud whine and the tightened grip on his shoulders, all the while you were clenching around nothing.

when your panting had turned into only slightly quickened breathing, rafe pulled back, straightening his body as his body covered your own, a self-satisfied smirk on his face at the blissed-out expression you were sporting; and before you could say anything, he brought his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

boss!yunho who's so horrible to you that you think he hates you.

you started at your new job two months ago. you're first corporate job. and your supervisor, jeong yunho, just won't let you breathe.

on your first day he called you into his office. he stared you down, eyes grazing every inch of your body and told you, "go home and change." and when you'd looked at him wide-eyed and asked "why?" he'd pointed at your skirt and said, "it's way to short. you look incredibly unprofessional." your face had burned in embarrassment as you walked out of his office, completely missing the way that his eyes lit up when your little skirt bounced as you walked out of his office.

and he works you to the bone, giving you assignment after assignment until your forced to stay overtime. and you do it without complaint because you finally want to get on his good side. and he watches from his office as you try so desperately not to fall asleep. he loves what a good girl you are. and if you do happen to fall asleep, he'll wake you up by calling you to his office once again and scolding you for taking so long.

when you finally get to your breaking point he gets so excited. you have your first performance review, but everyone else's took so long that he has to give it to you after hours. so you come back to his office for what feels like the 100th time. and he berates you for nearly an hour about how little you've been contributing to the team and how your work has declined in quality significantly since you were hired. and he tells you that they might need to let you go.

and he about comes in his pants when you break into tears. sobbing into your hands. apologizing profusely. "i'm sorry, mr. jeong. i'm trying so hard. i just feel so lost, and i don't know what i'm doing wrong. i want to do better. i can't lose this job. it's all i have. i'll do anything."

he rises from his chair and comes around his desk to your side, and you look up at him with teary eyes. he cups your cheek and wipes a tear, making sure to smudge some of your mascara, "anything? are you willing to do anything ms. l/n?"

yunho's thoughts are full of ways he could absolutely ruin you. thoughts of you forced to stay under his desk all day warming his cock in your mouth. you spending these late nights bend over his desk until you've squirted all over the floor, and he makes you clean it up with your tongue. making you turning in topless photos of yourself on top of your usual paperwork.

you nod and he smiles down at you, "good girl."

"what did you have in mind?" you whispered. desperately trying to avoid looking at his crotch where his obviously hard cock was straining in his pants.

"on your knees, pretty girl."

you move without hesitation, "yes, sir."

he groans at your compliance. "god, i'm not even gonna have to break you, am i?" your wide eyes look up at him from your spot on the floor, "oh but i am gonna ruin you, baby. ruin you for anybody else."

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[wannaeatramyeon]

Your Adventures as the Lookismverse Designer

G/N. Run-ins with Burn Knuckles, Goddog, Allied and Big Deal. Masterlists

Being in the Fashion department, you had assumed your classmates had a passion for fashion. For god's sake, it's in the name.

But no, you're wrong.

Apart from using it as an excuse to wear designer brands from head to toe, no one really gave a shit.

No one cared about the history, about design, fabrication, construction.

No one... apart from you that is.

.

.

Your first client wasn't really someone you could say no to unless you had a death wish.

When the whole of the Architecture department shows up along with Vasco, their terrifying leader, you consider running off and screaming.

It was only Jace Park, who seemed to understand a more subtle approach and how intimidating they looked, that stopped you from wanting to flee to the teacher.

(Strange. You actually don't recall seeing your teacher for months.)

"Please," Jace murmurs to Vasco and he's practically begging. "You didn't need to turn up with everyone. Just leave this to me. Please."

If you didn't know better, you would think Vasco was giving him grateful puppy eyes. But that can't be right. He's a thug.

"Sorry," Jace turns to you, looking contrite and fiddling anxiously with his big ears when you're finally on your own. "Are you the Fashion Designer?"

It should have been a stupid question, considering you're in the Fashion Department.

Except you look around at the so-called boxer who pitifully simps after the brunette all day, the rich blonde kid who never talks to anyone, the other girl who is an aspiring streamer and you sigh to yourself.

"Yes, that's me."

.

.

All things considered, the Burn Knuckles are very easy to please.

It's a design printed on some pre-made boilersuits, not exactly avant garde.

You did touch up the logo though and provided some more clothing options than requested. Boilersuits in a small selection of colours, bomber and leather jackets.

When you hand over the boxes to Vasco and Jace, the latter shakes your hand and the former stares at you with tears in his eyes and asks how they can ever repay you.

You shrug. Because he did already pay you for your time and the materials.

"Don't worry about it." You say, giving him a polite grin.

Vasco beams and you think maybe this guy isn't so scary.

.

.

.

.

Somehow your reputation precedes you.

To be honest you didn't even realise you had any sort of reputation until a guy with a messy mop head and two dogs corners you in an alleyway.

"I heard you're the Designer," he grunts.

A part of you thinks of fleeing once again. A smaller part of you thinks damn, that nickname is kinda cool.

"I am?"

"Don't play dumb. I know who you are."

You would have found him rude and menacing if not for his dogs picking that exact moment to roll around on the floor belly-up, desperately wanting some attention.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters though he squats down anyway to pat them. "So?" he continues, trying to regain his previous threatening aura even as the pups wriggle around under his touch.

"So what?"  you ask, not able to stop the smile creeping over your face at this adorable sight.

"I need some clothing."

.

.

Perhaps the Burn Knuckles gave you a false sense of bravado, thinking everyone would be as easy as them. Unfortunately, this guy is a goddamn headache.

He wants hoodies, which isn't an issue but he wants matching dog-sized ones and he wants you to design the logo from scratch too.

"But I don't do graphic design," you cry and he pretends he can't hear you.

On your twelfth iteration, he doesn't glare at it and praise the heavens; he's finally happy.

Well, happy is an overstatement. He doesn't exactly look happy but he's no longer glaring at you, so you assume in Johan Seong's world, that means he's exhilarated.

The hoodies fit, both Johan and the dogs, and the logo looks good too.

You wave goodbye to the back of all three. Your bank balance is healthier except you hope they never darken your doorstep again.

.

.

(You have no such luck. He returns, months later, requesting tracksuits.)

.

.

.

.

It's a sorry state of affairs when three of the members of Allied are part of the Fashion Department, and come to you asking for help.

"Why don't you design it yourself?" you ask Daniel Park, Zack Lee and Jay Hong.

They look at you like you've grown two heads.

.

.

You will be eternally grateful that Jay Hong is mute, that Vasco is actually the sweetest cinnamon roll, and Daniel Park is pretty easy-going because having Vin Jin and Zack Lee constantly bickering and criticising your design is bad enough.

Apparently these men are very adept fighters. Caught up in some gang shit. It didn't matter. You still wanted to ram your pen through their skulls.

Then throw in someone else called Hudson Ahn who also seems to like giving rude, overly critical comments concealed as constructive criticism -

You threatened to quit more than once.

.

.

Eventually, after staying awake for 46 hours - you all agree on a logo.

"Here." You thrust the USB drive with the files at Daniel Park.

"What do I do with this?"

"You're in the Fashion Department too." You rub at your tired eyes, patience long gone with these morons. "Find a clothing printer yourself. Search for it on the internet. You know what that is right? The internet?"

Somewhere to your right, Vin Jin bursts into laughter.

.

.

.

.

You can't decide if this guy is trying to sell you something or if you're actually falling in love with him by the second.

Hell, he could sell you some snake-oil and you're so charmed you don't mind.

"So, you'll do it?" he asks, holding your hands in his larger gloved ones and you feel yourself simpering like an idiot at the contact.

"Sure thing, Mr. Kim."

"Jake," he says, giving you a toothy grin. "I'm Jake. And this is Jerry."

"Who?"

"Jerry Kwon," A large hulking man steps up besides Jake, offering you a handshake.

What? How did you miss him? You didn't notice him at all.

"Oh. Uh. Of course. Nice to meet you too Jerry."

"Come here, guys." Jake signals for the other men hanging back to come forth. "Ths is Brad and Jerry and Lineman."

Shit. Damnit, you've been so fixated on Jake Kim that you ignored everyone else.

Hell. You didn't even realise there was anyone else.

"Hi," you say, wanting the ground to swallow you up and blushing furiously.

Jake catches your eye and gives you a wink.

.

.

Being completely honest, the Big Deal tracksuits aren't your best work.

You're not too sure on the logo design (though hey - that's not really your handiwork). The placement is a little awkward and the design is sort of plain.

You added gold elements to at least make it a bit more cohesive, and sourced extra durable fabrics with lots of movement as apparently the guys have a tendency to damage clothing during fights.

"What do you think?" Jake says, modelling your finalised version.

From the smile on his face, you could tell he's very much satisfied with your work.

"Looks great," you say and you're telling the truth. Although it's not really the tracksuit that looks great, but the man wearing it. His broad shoulders and tight waist, long muscular legs and-

Oops. You silently apologise for objectifying him.

The way your eyes rake over his form isn't subtle, though it's definitely flattering. Jake playfully throws another wink your way.

[gloomwitchwrites]

IM FEELING ANGSTY TODAY so what about 141 who is in love with reader but they are in love with someone else <3

ANON! STRAIGHT TO JAIL!

But in all seriousness, I love some yummy angst. Make me suffer. Make the characters suffer. Let's all suffer a little bit. Hope you shed a tear or two (or don't).

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in four double drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, alcohol, stalking, flirting, yearning, angst, suggestive themes, brief mention of intimate relations, divorce, co-parenting, nurse!reader

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The door opens, and your smiling face greets him. You look a bit tired, but even so, you're beautiful. John wants to snapshot this moment. To savor it.

“You’re early,” you breathe.

John shrugs. “That all right?”

He did it on purpose. The new boyfriend shouldn’t be home yet, which means John can have some time with you.

“Is that Dad?”

The familiar voice of his daughter and small feet slapping against a wood floor reaches him. She appears, arms outstretched eagerly.

“Hey there, dove,” chuckles John, lifting his daughter into his arms. “Ready to spend the weekend with me?”

She squeals with delight, her small arms wrapping around his neck. John glances at you, urging memory to resurface and seize you both.

But it is not to be.

The boyfriend appears. The man that came after the divorce.

John doesn’t blame you for moving on. His job drained the marriage into nothing.

But he still wants you.

“John,” nods the man in greeting.

“Is her bag ready?” asks John, addressing you and not acknowledging the boyfriend.

“Yes,” you reply, handing it to him.

John wants to say, “I love you.”

But he doesn’t.

“I’ll bring her back Sunday evening.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Vape smoke lingers in the air.

Kyle reclines on the sofa, his head on a pillow, scrolling his socials in the dim dark. The television is on, the volume turned low to create background noise. On the table next to him is a bottle of tequila, half-empty and warm. He takes a swig, savoring the burn.

Kyle’s gaze is glued to the phone screen, fingers tapping until he finds your page.

He shouldn’t do this. It’ll only upset him—making him yearn for something he doesn’t have and might never know. It’s a foolish endeavor. Heartbreak just for fucking kicks.

He gazes at your smiling face, of how perfect you are to him. It’s not fucking fair—even if he respects your choice.

You should be his. The two of you should be together.

But there is someone else. A man that Kyle despises but only because you’re not his. The bloke is a good man. He’ll take care of you. Treat you right. Be there when you need him and not away on another mission without any idea of when or if he’s coming back.

Kyle’s chest aches.

"Fuck," he sighs, locking his phone.

He reaches for the tequila.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“How bad is it, doc? Think I’ll live?”

Soap puts every ounce of devious flirtation he can in his tone. He’s putting it on thick.

He gives you his best smile, and he gets the exact reaction he wants.

Your head bows in embarrassment, a soft smile spreading on your face. Your touch is gentle, taking great care to wrap the wound on his bicep.

You’re flustered. It’s bloody adorable.

“You’ll live, sergeant,” you reply, voice a little husky.

It’s such a small thing, but Soap clings to it. To him, this is a sliver of hope. A possibility even though reality says otherwise.

Soap leans in a bit, pushing into your space which almost seems to worsen your flustered demeanor. “I took a hard hit.”

“You did,” you agree. “It’s good they brought you in.”

You have no idea Soap asked Simon to hit him harder during training just so he’d end up here.

But it’s not to be.

The man that has your heart arrives, strolling into the communal exam room without even glancing at Soap.

“You’re ready to go, sergeant,” you reply brightly, demeanor changing now that your boyfriend is here.

Soap’s stomach twists into a knot.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon sits in the dark in his home office. A slight twinge of shame paints his mood, like it always does when he watches the monitors.

He tells himself he does this to protect you. That he’s looking after you even if you’re not aware of his actions. This is just a precaution until you finally realize that you should be his.

Simon removes a cigarette from his jacket pocket. When it ignites, and that luscious burn hits his lungs, a calmness settles over him.

His actions are valid. This behavior is fine.

Simon settles back in his chair, gaze roaming over the different camera views. There are fifteen of them in total. Each one is in your home in various rooms. Infiltration and surveillance are something he’s fucking good at. And he’s done it here with excellent precision.

It’s some of his best work.

In your bedroom, you’re currently on your back, and completely naked. The wanker you call a “boyfriend” is thrusting like a bloody fucking idiot. It’s clear to Simon that this man only cares about himself.

Simon could make you come. He’d give you plenty of orgasms.

But you’re not his.

You belong to someone else.

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[mapis-putellas]

𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒕

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2700

Warnings: just general sickness

Summary: You force Alexia to get her flu shot. As a result of that, she gets sick, and she blames you. [requested]

You'd been nagging Alexia about the flu shot for days. It was flu season, and with her being a professional footballer—captain of her team, no less—she couldn't afford to get sick. But Alexia was stubborn, insisting she was too busy, that she didn't need it, that she didn't have time. It was every excuse in the book, her stubborn side flaring up in a way that you both found infuriating and adorable.

"I don't need the shot," she had told you one night, leaning back on the couch with an exasperated sigh. Her Spanish accent thickened whenever she was annoyed, and you had to admit, it made it all the harder to stay mad at her. "I am strong. The flu is nothing to me."

"Is that so?" you'd said, raising an eyebrow. "No kisses until you get it, then."

She stared at you, looking horrified. "What? No... cariño, don't joke." But when you'd crossed your arms and raised your eyebrow higher, she'd narrowed her eyes, muttering something colorful in Spanish.

"It's flu season, Alexia," you'd reminded her, with a tone that was half gentle, half scolding. "Just get the shot. It'll take five minutes."

"No kisses?" she asked, her voice small and wounded, and you could practically see her resolve crumbling. With a sigh of defeat, she muttered, "Fine. Fine, I will get the shot."

And so, the next day, she went to get the shot after training. When she came home, she immediately let you know she'd done it, even holding up her arm with a tiny plaster on it as proof, looking both proud and aggrieved. You'd rewarded her with a kiss on the cheek, which had softened her grumbling... for a little while, at least.

But then, a few days later, it all went south.

You woke up to the sound of sneezing—a loud, dramatic sound coming from your left. Turning over, you found Alexia curled up in bed, her face flushed, her eyes watery, and her nose red. She looked at you with a pout that could only mean trouble.

"I am sick," she said, her voice hoarse, thick with her accent and stuffed up nose.

"Oh no," you murmured, brushing a hand over her forehead. "Alexia, you're burning up."

She batted your hand away with a weak swat, looking thoroughly offended. "This is your fault."

"Excuse me?"

"You... you made me get that shot," she said, sniffling as she rubbed her nose. "I was fine. And now I am not fine."

You couldn't help but stifle a smile, despite her glare. "You know the flu shot doesn't actually give you the flu, right? It's supposed to keep you from getting it worse."

"Does not matter. I was fine before," she muttered, rolling over to bury her face in the pillow with a sniffly huff.

"Alright, alright, come on," you said gently, tugging at the blanket. "Let's get you out of bed and freshened up a bit. You'll feel better, I promise."

She just groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around her. "I don't want to feel better. I want to be left here... to die in peace."

You laughed softly, slipping a hand under her blanket to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Well, unfortunately, you've got me to help you feel better. So, let's go brush your teeth, hm?"

Her response was an unintelligible groan, and you had to practically drag her out of bed, guiding her to the bathroom as she shuffled along like a reluctant child.

Once you got her to the sink, she planted her feet, crossing her arms in a pout. "I don't want to brush," she mumbled, her voice small and congested.

"Alexia," you sighed, picking up her toothbrush. "Just open up, it'll only take a minute."

But she shook her head stubbornly, eyes narrowing at you in defiance. "No quiero. I don't want."

With a little smirk, you stepped closer, pressing her back against the counter as you gently took her hands, holding them in one of yours to keep her from pushing you away. "Be good for me, hm?"

She squirmed in your grip, cheeks flushing. "You... you're being a bully," she muttered, her eyes widening as she realized she was completely trapped.

"Oh, am I?" you murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before holding the toothbrush up to her mouth. "Open up, love."

With a long-suffering sigh, she finally parted her lips, letting you brush her teeth, though she continued to glare at you the whole time, like this was the greatest injustice she'd ever suffered. You finished quickly, wiping her mouth gently with a towel before releasing her hands.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" you teased, giving her a soft smile.

She huffed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. "You're lucky you're cute."

You chuckled, attempting to guide her through to the kitchen, buts she stubbornly resisted, insisting she wasn't hungry. "I'm not eating," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child. "Not hungry."

"Alexia, you need to eat something before you can take medicine."

"I don't care," she muttered, turning her head away. But her defiance was cut short by a sudden sneeze, and you sighed, pulling a tissue from the bedside table and gently wiping her nose.

"See? You're miserable, and you'll only feel better if you take care of yourself." You smoothed her hair back gently. "Let me make you something light, just a little fruit and yogurt."

She grumbled under her breath, muttering what you were sure were more Spanish curses, but she didn't stop you as you headed to the kitchen yourself, deciding it would be best to just leave her in bed. When you returned with a small bowl of yogurt and fruit, she was curled up under the blanket, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Come on, just a few bites," you coaxed, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding out a spoonful.

With a dramatic sigh, she opened her mouth, taking a tiny bite and chewing slowly, her expression making it clear that she was doing this entirely against her will. "Happy now?"

"Very," you replied, feeding her another spoonful.

After she'd eaten enough to satisfy you, it was finally time for the cold medicine. You held up the small bottle, and she looked at it like it was poison.

"No," she said, shaking her head with absolute certainty. "I'm not taking it."

"Alexia," you warned, your tone gentle but firm. "It'll help you feel better."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing. "I don't need it."

You let out a little sigh, knowing you'd need to take a different approach. With a determined smile, you climbed onto the bed, straddling her lap and pinning her arms to her sides with your legs.

Her eyes widened. "What... what are you doing?" she stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"Ensuring cooperation," you replied, holding up the medicine with a teasing smile. "Now, you can either take it willingly, or I'll have to make you.”

She squirmed beneath you, cheeks flushing as she glared up at you. "You are... you are a tyrant," she muttered, though the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "I can't believe you."

"Oh, the horror," you teased, holding the spoon close to her lips. "Now, be good and open up."

After a moment of stubborn silence, she finally sighed, parting her lips just enough to let you give her the medicine. She grimaced as she swallowed, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Disgusting," she muttered, wrinkling her nose.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Good girl. Now, back under the covers with you."

She scoffed, though you could see the hint of a smile in her eyes as she settled back into bed. "I will remember this, you know. One day, I will get my revenge."

You chuckled, tucking the blanket around her. "I look forward to it."

*

You'd barely left Alexia's side since she'd gotten sick. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her nose chapped and red from all the sneezing, and her voice, hoarse and scratchy, sounded pitifully weak. As miserable as she was, she still held a death grip on you, refusing to let you out of bed for more than a minute or two at a time.

"I'm not kidding, Alexia," you murmured, gently rubbing circles on her back with one hand. "I really need to pee.”

She just grumbled, shifting so her face was buried even deeper into the crook of your neck. "No. You can hold it."

You sighed, smiling despite yourself as she tightened her arms around you, determined not to let you go. Her hot breath tickled your neck, raspy and uneven as she tried to keep her congested breathing steady.

"I'll come back, you know," you tried to reason with her, running your fingers along her back. "You'll barely even notice I'm gone."

She lifted her head just enough to give you a pouty look, her eyes narrowed. "You leave... and I'll... I'll be alone. Sick. And alone."

You laughed softly, cupping her cheek. "You're so dramatic when you're unwell, you know that?"

She sniffled, her glare softening only slightly as she leaned back into your embrace. "I am sick because of you, so you should be here."

"Oh, so now you're blaming me again?" you teased, reaching for a tissue as she began sniffling more insistently.

"Yes," she said, sounding a little choked as you brought the tissue up to her nose. "You made me get that stupid shot."

You couldn't help but smile as she blew her nose, letting out a small huff when you dabbed her nostrils gently, trying not to further irritate the already raw skin.

"Okay, you're right. I'm the villain here," you said, pressing a light kiss to her forehead as she snuggled back down. "So I'll be right back to atone for my sins. Just give me one minute, alright?"

She pouted, but after a moment of hesitation, she finally relented, albeit begrudgingly. "One minute," she grumbled, watching you with narrowed eyes as you slid out from beneath her.

You were barely gone for thirty seconds when you heard her weak voice from the other room. "¡Cariño!" she called, her hoarse voice laced with a mixture of impatience and distress.

You hurried back, finding her curled up in bed with a fresh pout. She immediately extended her arms out to you, looking as needy as ever.

"Come here," she muttered, pulling you down as soon as you were within reach. "You're taking too long."

"Alexia, I was gone for less than a minute," you chuckled, allowing her to tug you back under the covers.

"Too long," she insisted, her voice muffled as she snuggled her face into your shoulder. Her nose brushed against your collarbone, making you realize she was probably on the verge of sneezing again.

You sighed, grabbing another tissue just in time to catch her next sneeze. She sniffled, her nose redder than ever as you gently dabbed at it again.

She winced, pushing your hand away with a small groan. "Ow. Stop. You're hurting me."

"I'm sorry, love," you murmured, brushing her hair back from her forehead as she closed her eyes. "I know it's sore. Just a little more, and I'll leave it alone."

She let out a tiny huff, shifting closer as she adjusted her head against your neck. "This is your fault," she muttered, half-asleep. "You know that, right?"

"Yes, yes. Entirely my fault," you agreed, pulling her tighter against you as she sighed in sleepy satisfaction.

For a moment, she was quiet, her breathing shallow and uneven as she drifted off. But it didn't last long. Within a few minutes, she was shifting restlessly, her forehead crinkling as she sneezed again. She groaned, sniffling miserably as she buried her face deeper into your shoulder.

"Ugh," she mumbled, her voice raspy and stuffed. "I hate this."

"I know, baby," you whispered, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It'll pass soon. Just gotta hang in there."

She shook her head, her brow furrowing. "No, I won't. I'm... I'm dying." She looked up at you with those big, tired eyes, looking completely pitiful.

"Oh, really?" you teased, trying not to laugh at her dramatic declaration. "You're dying?"

"Yes," she insisted, her tone dead serious. "This is the end for me."

You couldn't help but smile as you wiped her nose again, ignoring her glare. "Alright then. Anything you want me to tell your teammates?"

"Tell them..." she paused, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned heavily against you. "Tell them... I went out a hero. Strong... noble."

"A strong, noble hero taken down by a common cold?" you joked, earning yourself another weak glare.

She let out a tiny huff, her head falling back to rest against your shoulder. "You are mean to me," she muttered. "When I am sick, you should be... you know. Nicer."

"Oh, I'm not being nice right now?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you resumed rubbing her back.

She sighed, her face softening as she nuzzled closer. "You are... a little. But I need more," she mumbled, her voice fading as she drifted off again.

For the next hour or so, you stayed snuggled up with her, her feverish body practically glued to yours. Her head was tucked beneath your chin, her arms snug around your waist as if she were afraid you'd disappear if she loosened her grip even a little.

Her breathing grew heavier as she fell into a deeper sleep, her face twitching every now and then when a fresh wave of congestion hit. She coughed, letting out a weak whine that made you squeeze her a little tighter.

You must've dozed off at some point because the next thing you knew, she was tugging on your sleeve, her expression both sleepy and grumpy as she looked up at you.

"Thirsty," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Alright, I'll get you some water," you murmured, starting to sit up. But as soon as you moved, her arms tightened around you, pulling you back down with surprising strength.

"No. Don't move," she muttered, her voice sounding even hoarser than before.

"Alexia, I need to get you the water."

She shook her head, snuggling closer. "No. Just... just stay a little longer."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, pulling her back against you. "If you don't let me go, you'll stay thirsty," you pointed out, trailing your fingers along her back in gentle circles.

She sighed, clearly torn, before finally loosening her grip with a pout. "Fine," she muttered. "But hurry."

You got up quickly, grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen before hurrying back to her side. She accepted the water gratefully, taking small sips as she looked up at you with a suspiciously grateful expression.

"Better?" you asked, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face.

She nodded, setting the glass aside before pulling you back down with a determined look. "Now stay.”

"Bossy," you teased, letting her wrap herself around you like a clingy octopus.

"I am sick," she muttered, her voice muffled against your shoulder. "I can be bossy."

"Alright, alright, fair enough." You gently traced your hand over her back, feeling her finally relax against you again.

For a few minutes, she was quiet, drifting in and out of sleep. But soon, she was shifting again, looking up at you with a soft, miserable pout.

"My nose hurts," she mumbled, sniffling loudly.

"I know, love," you murmured, kissing her forehead. "But it'll feel better soon, I promise."

She huffed, clearly not convinced, and nuzzled back against your neck, her nose brushing your collarbone as she settled in once more.

After a few more minutes, she started coughing again, her whole body shuddering with the effort. You held her close, rubbing her back in soothing circles until the coughing fit finally subsided.

"This is all your fault," she mumbled once she'd caught her breath, looking up at you with a halfhearted glare.

"Yes, I know," you replied, smiling as you kissed her forehead. "All my fault."

"Good," she muttered, closing her eyes again as she snuggled closer. "At least you know."

You let out a soft laugh, resting your cheek against her hair as she drifted off once more. Even sick and stubborn as ever, she was still your Alexia, your fiercely independent, soft-hearted girl who refused to let you go.

**

Tags:

@girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @ceesimz @marysfics @goldenempyrean @silentwolfsstuff @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[hoe4hotchner]

also this might be a weird one but could you write a story where the reader accidentally throws up on Hotch during you know what and he takes really good care of her

In Sickness and Health | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Vomit, the flu

A/N: I'm fairly certain I know which you know what you're talking about, and if it's the one I'm thinking about I don't write about that….. So I made reader sick with the flu instead.

It was hard to argue that things could get much worse as you curled up on your couch, shivering despite three blankets piled on top of you. The flu had hit fast and hard — harder than you'd ever experienced before.

Hotch had insisted on stopping by to check on you after you’d sounded “off” on the phone earlier, but now you almost regretted accepting his kindness. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this.

There was a gentle knock at your door, and you heard his voice just outside. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m coming in.”

Before you could croak out an answer, Hotch was already inside, his brow furrowing as he saw your bundled-up form. He was carrying a few bags from the pharmacy and some soup that smelled good enough to make your mouth water.

“I told you, you didn’t have to come,” you said, but even that small effort was enough to make your stomach flip.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He flashed you a gentle, reassuring smile and dropped his coat on a nearby chair. “I couldn’t leave you alone in this condition.” He set the bags on the coffee table, pulling out a bottle of cold medicine, a thermometer, and a box of tissues. “I thought these might help.”

You managed a weak smile. “I think I love you.”

He chuckled softly and brushed your hair back, his touch cool against your fevered forehead. “I’ll take that as the fever talking. Now, let’s get you sorted out.”

He knelt beside the couch and carefully held the thermometer under your tongue. You felt embarrassed under his watchful eye, but he was nothing but warm and reassuring, his hand never leaving yours. When the thermometer beeped, he read it with a frown. “One hundred and two. Let’s get some fluids in you.”

The soup smelled like heaven. You tried a few sips, managing to keep it down, but just as he leaned in to check your forehead again, your stomach twisted in that familiar, dreaded way.

“Aaron, I—”

But you didn’t get the words out in time. Before you knew it, you were heaving, and the soup — and whatever else was in your stomach — landed squarely on his shirt. You were mortified, eyes wide, but Aaron just blinked in mild surprise. “Oh.”

“I’m so sorry!” You groaned, feeling your cheeks burn hot with shame, despite the fever.

He was surprisingly calm, just dabbing at his shirt with a tissue from the box he’d brought over. “It’s fine. Clothes can be cleaned,” he said in that calming, matter-of-fact tone he often used at work. “But you need rest. Come on, let’s get you settled.”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment as he lifted you up, blankets and all, and carried you to your bedroom. You felt the blush creeping up as he set you down on your bed, adjusting the covers to make sure you were warm. Even in your fevered state, it was hard not to be acutely aware of his gentle touch, the way his hands brushed against you so carefully.

He quickly changed into one of his t-shirts that he'd left at your place — leaving his soiled dress shirt in the bathroom — and then came back with a cool washcloth. “This’ll help with the fever,” he said, dabbing it gently against your forehead, cheeks, and neck. His hands were steady, his gaze so soft that you almost forgot the embarrassment.

“You’re… really good at this,” you managed to say, voice muffled by exhaustion.

He chuckled. “I’ve had my fair share of sick days with Jack.”

You smiled weakly. “Thank you, Aaron. Really. I’m sorry about… you know.”

His fingers brushed against your forehead again, tucking a strand of hair away. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m right where I want to be.”

With him by your side, you felt yourself start to drift off, lulled by the soothing rhythm of his voice. As you slipped into sleep, you swore you felt his lips press softly against your forehead, his whispered promise lingering in the air:

“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[thatlotuscookie]

ok ok, hear me out, hear me out I swear-

a Haikyuu character who's a teacher(you pick which one bc I am indecisive lol) who students don't like because they assign too much HW, x Art-Teacher y/n who's super eccentric and all the students have started calling "Auntie" bc they like her so much... and somehow the students realize they're dating

✧･ﾟ: a/n: hiii thank you for the req anon! i choseTsukishima Kei x art teacher!fem reader cause why not :) sorry for the wait, it got a little busy. please enjoy and thank you for requestinng <3

✧ Title: ✧ Paintbrushes and Equations ✧ ✧ Characters: Math!TeacherTsukishima Kei x Art Teacher!Reader, Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life ✧ Rating: G ✧ Summary: Mr. Tsukishima Kei, the strict math teacher known for his tough assignments, and Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher adored by students, try to keep their budding relationship under wraps. But between secret coffee runs and after-school visits, it doesn’t take long for their students to catch on. ✧ Content/Tags: Secret Relationship, Soft Tsukishima, Teacher AU, Slow-burn Romance, Fluff and Humor ✧ WC: 1126 words // 6.8k chars

Mr. Tsukishima Kei was known as the strict, no-nonsense math teacher, infamous for assigning challenging homework and expecting punctuality from his students. Across the hall, however, was Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher who taught in a classroom full of painted murals, plants, and knick-knacks. Her students affectionately called her “Auntie,” loving her warm personality and encouraging nature.

Despite their differences, the two had quietly been dating for some time now, keeping things subtle so as not to spark gossip in the school hallways. But as careful as they tried to be, some moments were just too sweet to hide from their observant students.

Every morning, Tsukishima would stop by Y/N’s room before classes started. Though their relationship was mostly kept under wraps, there was one routine they couldn’t help but share—he’d bring her coffee, just the way she liked it, and stay for a few moments before his first class.

One particular morning, a student passing by happened to catch sight of them. Y/N was sitting at her desk, fiddling with paintbrushes while Tsukishima leaned against the edge of her desk, coffee cup in hand. She looked up at him with a bright smile as he handed her the coffee.

“Thank you, Kei! You know, I think your coffee runs are the best part of my day.”

“Maybe if you went to bed at a reasonable hour, you wouldn’t need this much caffeine,” he replied, rolling his eyes, though there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Bedtime? Reasonable? You’re talking to an artist, Kei!” She chuckled, raising her coffee cup in mock cheers.

The student who’d witnessed it ran back to their friends, spilling the details in hushed, excited whispers. “Guys, Auntie totally has Mr. Tsukishima wrapped around her finger. He’s bringing her coffee like it’s a daily thing!”

During lunch breaks, Tsukishima would sometimes slip away from the teachers’ lounge and make his way to Y/N’s art room, which was usually open to students who wanted to work on projects or just hang out with their favorite teacher. Though he’d never admit it out loud, Tsukishima was growing fond of this habit too.

One afternoon, Y/N was holding a brush in each hand, struggling to finish a mural one of her classes had started. Tsukishima approached, watching her for a moment as she fumbled with paint colors.

“Need a hand?” he asked, taking one of the brushes out of her grasp without waiting for an answer. He began painting in neat, deliberate strokes, adding to the vibrant, playful mural.

“Mr. Tsukishima,” Y/N grinned, “are you sure you can handle all this color?”

He just shrugged, pretending to be annoyed, but there was a glint in his eye. “It’s not my fault you’re terrible at ladders.”

The students present watched with wide eyes as their usually stern math teacher helped their beloved art teacher, even taking her playful teasing without so much as a sigh. “Is he… actually smiling?” one student whispered, amazed. “And helping her paint? They’re definitely dating.”

On Fridays, Y/N would stay late to finish up art projects, often leaving well after most of the other teachers had already gone home. But one evening, as she was cleaning up her brushes, she was startled by a familiar voice at the door.

“Didn’t I tell you not to stay this late alone?” Tsukishima’s tone was gentle, though there was a hint of concern.

“Oh, but I had just one more layer of glaze to apply! I didn’t want to leave it unfinished,” she replied, smiling sheepishly.

Tsukishima sighed and moved to take some of the supplies from her hands, setting them aside. “That can wait. You shouldn’t be here by yourself. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They left together, but not before another student, leaving basketball practice, caught sight of them walking side by side down the hallway, Tsukishima’s hand brushing hers in a quiet, comforting gesture.

“Did you see that?” the student whispered to a friend the next day. “Mr. Tsukishima totally waited for Auntie after school. He’s such a softie for her.”

When Field Day rolled around, Y/N was the designated supervisor for the art activities station. Her students flocked to her booth, excited to paint, tie-dye, and get a break from competitive games. Tsukishima, though not usually one for field activities, had somehow found himself “volunteered” to help out at her station by none other than Y/N herself.

At first, he’d tried to stay in the background, sorting supplies and ensuring everything was organized. But as more students lined up, Y/N pulled him over to assist with face painting. “Come on, Kei, it’s fun! Don’t be so serious,” she teased, handing him a paintbrush.

He gave her a long-suffering look but, after a few convincing nudges, gave in. Soon, students were giggling at the sight of Mr. Tsukishima painting bright flowers and animals on their cheeks.

“Mr. Tsukishima, can you paint a dragon?” one student asked, grinning. And to everyone’s surprise, Tsukishima nodded, actually putting in the effort to paint a rather impressive dragon.

Meanwhile, Y/N leaned in close, watching him with a proud smile. “See? I knew you had a colorful side.”

The students at the booth exchanged knowing looks, watching the way Tsukishima’s gaze softened every time he looked at Y/N. One bold student whispered, “They’re definitely together. I think Auntie’s the only person who could get him to paint a dragon.”

The biggest reveal came on Y/N’s birthday. Her classroom was decorated with student-made banners, handmade cards, and small, thoughtful gifts from her students. But the real surprise came when Tsukishima walked in with a bouquet of wildflowers, which he set on her desk, much to the shock of her students.

“Kei���” Y/N murmured, her eyes shining with surprise. “You didn’t have to—”

“Happy Birthday, Auntie,” he said simply, giving her a small, genuine smile before glancing pointedly at the students, who were watching, open-mouthed. He gave them his usual glare but, seeing the excitement in their eyes, eventually gave up on hiding it.

And with that, the students finally had their confirmation. They all whispered to each other excitedly, some even daring to give Tsukishima approving thumbs-up. From that day on, Tsukishima’s “monster math teacher” title softened in their eyes. He was still strict and demanding, but he was also the teacher who went out of his way to make their “Auntie” happy.

As the weeks went by, more little moments started to unfold between them—moments the students watched eagerly, as if they were witnessing a real-life romance. And while Tsukishima might not have been the most affectionate in public, he showed his care in small, steady ways, making sure Y/N was looked after and supported in the little things.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

I know this sounds so boring but what Bruce with a polite, wise gentle girlfriend? This is so boring 🥹🙂‍↕️ I’m sorry🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

No omg I actually love how like domestic this request is, in a way?? Literally in love with the amount of creative freedom that you guys let me have with reqs.

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

BF! Bruce Wayne w/ a Wise/Caring Girlfriend

BF! Bruce Wayne who you're convinced really doesn't have a chill button. There are only a handful of times over the past few years you've been together where he's been home, unoccupied, and not pacing around the Manor like a maniac.

BF! Bruce Wayne who's always just so sore, achy, and tired. This comes into play especially when his age finally starts catching up to him, depite how hard he pushes his body. The best thing, however, is that if you get him to sit down for more than five minutes, you'll get to rub his back.

"Sit."

"Hm?" He was pacing the lavish master bedroom again, his mind working overtime to plan ahead for a recent situation with his 'nightly extracurricular.' In all honesty, he wasn't paying attention as you watched him from the edge of the bed.

"Come sit with me, Bruce." You repeat softly, moving to lay back against the pillows and holding your loving arms out for the tired man beside you.

"I can't-"

"You're going to burn out if you keep going at this rate, Bruce." You don't even give him the chance to protest before you're leaning forward, grabbing his wrist, and pulling him to lay on top of you with his head burried into your chest. There's a few moments of domestic bliss as he tries to find the will to pull away and fails. "Sometimes..." You start softly, the heels of your palms gently digging into the knotted muscles of his back and shoulders, "Sometimes I think you forget to breathe."

A deep breath and a soft sigh can be heard, although its slightly muffled by your chest. "I know." He whispers after a few moments. "Im sorry."

"Don't be." You respond without hesitation as you continue your gentle ministrations. "You shouldn't apologize to me. Ever, Bruce." You pause for a moment as thoughts gather. "You should, however, apologize to yourself for what you keep putting yourself through.

BF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't realize it, but needs your help so much more than he'll ever need anything else. It doesn't matter if you know that he's Batman or not, you somehow just... Know what needs to happen. Bruce, of course, tries not to let you in on exactly what problems he's facing, but he swears you have a sixth sense for this kind of stuff.

BF! Bruce Wayne who absolutely melts every time you make him dinner, even though he likely won't be home to eat it. He often forgwts to eat between work meetings and beating the everloving shit out of criminals on the Gotham City Streets.

The feeling of a large, caloused set of hands resting on your waist was enough to pull you out of your own thoughts as you put down the spatula in your hand. "Somebody's home early." Your voice is almost a teasing jest to Bruce, but he knows just how much you've missed him over the past few days.

"I heard that a certain lovely woman was in need of attention." His voice is slightly muffled by the skin of your shoulder and fabric of your shirt as he practically buries himself into you, pressing a soft line of kisses up your neck.

"You can't just keep cancelling work meetings for me, handsome." You turn to face him for a moment, pulling him down slightly to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. "You need to start doing things for your own sake."

BF! Bruce Wayne who refuses to go on a vacation for years. Until you listen in on some banter between him and a few of the 'Elite Gothamites' at a Wayne Gala and find out where he's always wanted to go. And proceed to drop subtle hints that you want to go there until he finally gives in, because how could Bruce ever resist that begging tone? After all, it made him feel less guilty that it was for you (it totally wasn't) and less selfish for taking time away from the city forgotten by God.

"You have impeccable taste in locations, beautiful." He mutters before pressing a kiss to your warm cheek, broad arm already around your shoulders as you basked in the setting sun of the private beach he rented out for a few days.

"Maybe you should listen to your girlfriend a little more, Mr. Wayne." You tease softly before gently grasping his chin in one hand and pulling him in for a soft, sweet kiss. His lips mixed with the faint taste of liquor are as close as you feel you'll ever get to heaven.

BF! Bruce Wayne who, if you know about his identity as the Caped Crusader, goes to you for help as little as possible. You undertsand that he's doing it for your own protection, but you can't help but feel a little upset over him.hiding even more from you.

"No, there will be too many thugs waiting at that entrance." He mutters softly, eyes trained on the flashing and blinking lights displayed on the Batcomputer forming a map of a warehouse inhabited by the Joker.

"What if you went in through those vents?" You ask softly, moving the hand not on the back of his rolling chair to point out a hidden ventilation system. "Sure, I get that it's a tight fit, but you could probably take of the utility belt for a few minutes, right?"

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

Masterlist

[zigrethsnotebook]

[SHOULDER KISS]

Ford x Reader

words: 2,846

tags: sfw, toothrotting fluff, non-sexual nudity

a/n: this is so devastatingly self-indulgent,, pls don't judge me. But also, this is for all of you who said there aren't enough Ford fics out there <3

Winter. Snow was falling, but it wasn’t soft. The winds were strong and managed to blow snow in your face no matter which way you turned or how much you covered it up. This was supposed to be a short and simple hike through the woods with Ford. When you had left the house this morning it had been just that, with snow falling softly and all. But now the weather had turned like it held a grudge against you two personally.

The twins had decided to have a little break on their sea adventure for the holidays and while Stan decided to visit the kids and Shermie, Ford had decided to come home to you. Even Soos and his Abuelita had left to spend this time of the year with Melody and her family, meaning you and Ford had the Shack all to yourselves. It also meant that there was nobody home to make sure the Shack stayed warm while you two were out.

Finally, you had made it back to the Shack, and when Ford opened the door you quickly got inside, spreading snow across the floor. You shivered as you took off your snow-laden coat and shoes, the cold having seeped inside your very bones.

Ford wasn’t much better off - his nose and cheeks burned a bright red and his eyebrows and eyelashes had little white crystals hanging off of them. He was a human furnace of a man, but even he was shivering now, rubbing his hands along his arms to generate a little warmth.

“We need to warm up as quickly as possible, I don’t want to risk either of us getting hypothermia. You should go and take a hot bath while I’ll put more wood in the furnace so the house can warm back up. I’ll take a bath after you’re done.”

You shook your head. “Sorry, won’t work. While you were gone we had some problems with the hot water. Now there’s only enough hot water for one hot bath or shower at a time.”

“Oh.” Ford’s eyes darted around the room for a moment, trying to find a solution. “Then I guess I’ll just get some extra blankets and try to warm up like that.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Or you could just take the bath with me. That way we won’t risk either of us getting sick?”

You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, Ford on the other hand could feel the heat rising to his face even more now, his turtleneck suddenly feeling a little tight around his neck. It wasn’t a secret that Ford was… uncomfortable when it came to nudity.

During your few months of relationship with the man the furthest you had gotten was one very fun make-out session where, in the heat of the moment, Ford had pulled your shirt over your head and immediately turned bright red at the sight of you. You had pulled him back in with a smile but when you tried to pull his turtleneck off of him as well he had pulled away, ending the moment abruptly.

You had tried to talk to him about it afterwards and he had confessed that he felt incredibly self-conscious about his own body after all the things Bill and his time hopping dimensions had done to it. After lots of kind words and soft kisses he had hugged you and shown you the scars around his wrists from the chains Bill had kept him in.

But none of that mattered now and you hoped he knew you wouldn’t think worse of him for any of it. You just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get sick. “No. You go.” You could tell he was trying to sound determined, but his own shivering wouldn’t quite let him.

You shook your head. “You take a bath, I’ll get some blankets.” Ford looked at you with pleading eyes. “I won’t take a bath before you. Either we take one together-” You had to pause as a more intense shiver overcame you. You continued with chattering teeth. “-or I’ll take one after you.”

“But you just said-” The look on your face was unwavering, he couldn’t win this one. With a sigh he agreed. “Okay. You get the bath ready. I’ll take care of the furnace, then I’ll meet you there. Does that sound good?” You nodded and quickly made your way to the bathroom.

Ford felt silly for being afraid of your reaction to his body. He was a normal guy! Apart from the six fingers of course, but you had shown him again and again that you loved that part of him. Why would this be any different? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of all those negative thoughts as he placed another log in the fire.

With every step he now took towards the bathroom he could feel his heart hammering stronger and louder inside his chest. He was about to reach for the doorknob when he stilled in his movement. There was something he hadn’t even considered. He would also get to see you naked.

Ford’s cheeks, after having cooled down a little, now turned tomato red again. No. No, he couldn’t do this. He was just about to turn around when the door in front of him opened. “Ford? Why are you just standing there? Come in.” You gently took his hand that was still hanging outstretched in the air and guided him inside the room.

The bathroom had already begun to heat up a little through the warm water evaporating and filling the air. You quickly closed the door behind him, shivering again as you felt the fresh air entering the room. Ford just stood there, unable to move, just watching you as you moved around the room, getting shampoos and towels ready and finally turning off the water.

You turned to Ford. The crystals on his eyebrows and lashes had melted away, but his face was still flushed and he looked very tense. You moved over to him, gently put your hands on his arms and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ford. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. I want you to know that I’m as worried about your health as you are about mine, but if you leave now I won’t judge you for that or think any worse of you.”

One of your hands found his cheek and he instinctively leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and brought his own hand up to yours, moved it to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to your wrist. “I’ll stay.” You smiled and when he let go of your hand you moved back towards the bathtub, taking your sweatshirt off in one swift movement.

Ford watched your movements with awe. You turned to face him again and he struggled to focus on your eyes. It made you smile - you thought it was adorable how much he wanted to stay a true gentleman, even though you were more than okay with him checking you out properly.

“Suggestion: I get in first. Then, if you’re not comfortable with me seeing you naked I’ll close my eyes while you get in as well. How does that sound to you?” Ford couldn’t help but smile at how considerate you were and also admire you for your self-confidence. “Sounds perfect.”

You nodded and quickly started undressing further, looking forward to the warm water thawing your tense muscles. Ford quickly averted his eyes which earned him a quiet chuckle from you, but you didn’t say anything. When you were done, you carefully stepped inside the tub and sighed as the warm water engulfed your shivering body.

The way it was now the water reached to just above your nipples. But, knowing Ford, you had made sure to create enough foam, so you couldn’t see through the water, leaving just your shoulders and upwards visible. When Ford realized that you had settled into the tub he turned to face you again and you smiled an encouraging smile at him before closing your eyes.

Ford hesitated a moment but eventually found the courage to take off his turtleneck. His heart beat rapidly in his chest but when he pulled it over his head and realized your eyes were still closed he relaxed a little. He felt bad for not trusting you enough to see him shirtless while you trusted him enough to sit naked in front of him with your eyes closed. He took another deep breath to steady himself and took off the rest of his clothes.

After you heard what you assumed to be Ford’s pants dropping to the floor you lifted your arms out of the water and placed them on either side of the tub, inviting him in. You heard two footsteps and then felt the water moving slightly. It took all your concentration to keep your eyes closed, not because you wanted to gawk at him, but rather because you wanted to help him sit down safely without hurting either of you.

You managed though, and soon enough Ford sat between your legs in the bathtub. A deep sigh left Ford’s lips as well, as he felt the warm water around his cold skin. He was careful not to lean too far back, trying desperately to touch you as little as possible. When he was as comfortable as he could get, he spoke up again in a tiny voice. “You can open your eyes now.”

The sight in front of you made your heart flutter. It felt so domestic somehow. His gray hair and strong shoulders in front of you - all you wanted to do was reach out, pull him close and never let go. But you restrained yourself, you had to go at his pace. For a moment you just admired him, studied all the scars and tattoos you hadn’t seen before and committed them to memory.

“Please say something.” Ford’s voice didn’t quite manage to break you out of your trance. “I love you.” As soon as the words left your mouth you froze. You didn’t mean to say that - you had never said this to each other before. “Sorry, I don’t know wh-” “I love you, too.”

You were shocked, to say the least, your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your ribcage. With Ford facing forward you couldn’t look at him, but you could tell from the red of his ears that he was blushing. You bit your bottom lip as you tried to anticipate whether or not your next words would ruin the moment. “Can I touch you?”

His breathing picked up its pace and he nodded. Slowly, you lifted one of your hands from the side of the bathtub and moved it to his shoulder. Ford’s breath hitched when your skin touched his. You let your thumb draw slow, soothing circles on his skin and after a few seconds you heard Ford let out a long breath, relaxing a little.

After a few moments like that you slowly let your hand wander up his shoulder until your fingers came into contact with one of his scars and you could feel Ford tense under your touch. With a feather-like softness you let your fingers trace the scar. “Bill.” Was the only word he managed to get out. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” You assured him and he relaxed under your touch again.

A few more moments passed with your one hand tracing gentle patterns on his shoulder, until Ford raised his other arm out of the water and put it on top of your other arm. He took your hand and slowly moved it forward, pulling you along with it. You didn’t protest as you felt him wrap your arm around himself, holding it against his chest and gently kissing your knuckles.

This gave you the perfect opportunity to gently pull him towards you, encouraging him to lean into your chest, while never stopping the soothing strokes of his shoulder with your other hand. A smile formed on your face when you both had settled into a comfortable position, his back to your chest and your head looking over his shoulder.

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, neither of you saying a word, just enjoying the moment.

You looked downward just enough to look at his shoulder and then leaned down, pressing a loving kiss to your boyfriend’s skin. Ford gasped, not expecting the sensation, but quickly relaxing into it. You could stay like this forever.

After some more time enjoying this moment, you noticed the water losing some of its warmth. Ford noticed this as well. “We should probably start getting ready soon.” He said but didn’t move an inch. You chuckled lightly. “Yeah…”

You took a deep breath, taking in as much of this moment as you could. “Do you want me to wash your hair?” Even with all that’s happened to lead you up to this point, Ford blushed again. It was adorable. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I-If you want to?”

With a smile on your lips you gently guided him into a more horizontal position, cupped some water in your hand and let it flow over his head. Once his hair was sufficiently wet you grabbed a bottle of shampoo and put some on your hands before messaging it into his hair. Ford's eyes fluttered shut and he practically melted into your touch. You loved to see him so relaxed and it filled you with pride to know that you were the cause for this.

After you had rinsed his hair with water he was about to sit up straight again but you stopped him. “Your hair needs conditioner.” He didn’t protest and let you go through the same motions again. “I could get used to this…” Ford breathed the words out and you almost didn’t catch them. But when they registered in your mind your heart swelled with affection for the man.

“All done.” Your voice made him open his eyes and sit back up. He was no longer leaning against your chest and you noticed that the foam was starting to dissolve. You could see a little more of his back now, but you tried not to stare.

“I-ehm…” Ford started but didn’t know how to voice his question. You understood him though. “How about I close my eyes for you to get out and then I face the wall to wash my own hair while you get dressed?” Ford chuckled lightly, the tension of having to ask an uncomfortable question immediately lifted by your genuine respect for his boundaries.

“They’re closed,” you told him and he stood up, got out and wrapped himself in a towel. As soon as you heard both of his feet hit the ground you turned in the tub and faced the wall, presenting Ford your back. You wet your own hair and when you were reaching backwards for the shampoo bottle you couldn’t reach it. Seems like you didn’t think this one through fully.

“Here.” You felt the bottle gently hit your hand and took it from him. While you were busy washing your hair, Ford realized that neither of you had brought any fresh clothes into the bathroom. He quickly left to get some for himself and then some for you as well. When he came back you were just putting conditioner into your hair.

“I brought you some clothes as well.” You halted. “I knew I forgot something. Thank you.” Ford chuckled and quickly got dressed into some fresh pants and a different red turtleneck. When he was done you were just about to stand up. Ford picked up the towel and held it in front of himself. You stood up, your back still facing him, and he wrapped his arms around you and the towel along with it.

Ford pressed a chaste kiss to the nape of your neck before letting go of you. “I’ll make us both a hot chocolate.” You just hummed in response.

When you stepped out of the bathroom the house felt warm again and the smell of hot chocolate filled the air. You let the smell guide you to the kitchen where you found Ford. Your arms snaked around his waist, hugging him from behind and you nuzzled your face into his turtleneck.

When he was done preparing the drinks he turned around in your arms, cupping your face in his hands. “What have I done to deserve you?” He sighed dreamily and you smiled a crooked grin at him. “You made us hot chocolate!” You both chuckled and took the drinks to the living room where you both settled into the old recliner.

Once the drinks were emptied and you were just about to drift off into sleep in his arms, you heard Ford whisper in your ear.

“Thank you.”

[meydang]

cute wings

(sfw)

Nameless!Sunday x Nameless!reader

Based on Sunday's ultimate animation and my own headcanons about halovian's lore.

.

.

.

"So what was that move you whip out earlier? The one with the vines and everything!" You said, clearly impressed while sitting down on one of the couch.

"Have you been hiding the other two pair of wings or do they only come out when you do that last move?" You asked eagerly when Sunday enter the parlor car, the both of you having just gotten back from your trailblazing expidition together. Your eyes following him as he joins you on the couch, with sparks of curiosity in it.

It hasn't been that long since Sunday joined the Astral express, but he could definitely say that it's been enough for him to start opening up to all the nameless and vice versa.

"Ah, are you refering to my supporting spell?" This is the case especially for you, with your seemingly endless energy and desire to learn about everything, it's only a matter of time before you start flooding him with all these question about anything that piqued your interest.

"For halovians, our wings are like a representation of our emotion and power, similar to that of our halo." Sunday pause for a moment, you guessed to try and think of an answer that will satisfy your question.

"To put it simply, take that fight we just won earlier for example, I was using my power to aid us, the wings that appeared were due to my strong emotion and use of power at the moment." He turned to look at you as you nod multiple times, trying to grasp your head around the new information like a lost puppy trying to figure out where it is.

You do that quite often - something Sunday has took notice and find endearing.

Cute, he think.

"Sooo... does that mean the wings can only come out when you are in a state like that?" You finally said after some time. "Aw pity, I was hoping you could make them appear anytime you know, I think they are really adorable!" You said what you were thinking with all honesty, completely oblivious to the fact that your last comment caught the halovian off guard and flustered to his core, hints of red dusting his cheeks.

"Th-that is not entirely correct, I can make them visible if I want to, but I'll need to be in a state of strong emotion or focus on my power in that case." Sunday tries to brush of your compliment about his wings with his answer, but before he could given it anymore thoughts, you have already came up with an idea.

Sunday jolts slightly as you prop your chin onto his shoulder, your face display a smug expression, looking up at him with your hand on top of his own.

"Wait, if I'm correct... Then I'll just have to make you feel emotions strong enough for your cute wings to come out, right?"

Huh? What did you just say? What are you planning? How did- what? There is a million things going through Sunday's head right now and the fact that your gaze are still fixed on him while this is happening does not help at all. Sunday doesn't know what is worse, the way he got insanely flustered just by a few compliments or you being extremely close to him right now.

"Well...? Aren't you gonna say anything?" He heard you said in the slowest and most teasing way possible, as if to get even more reaction from him. Before he could even answer, you stood up and move infront of him.

"Sunday." you said while bending down to face him, your hands on your knees and face tilting down at him with an adoring smile.

Huh?

"Yes?" He managed to say, his head spinning to guess what are you planning to say next.

"Although it hadn't been long since you join the express, you have been adapting and trying your best to keep up with the crew really well." Sunday can feel his cheeks burning with every sweet words uttered from your mouth. You on the other hand, are determined to get his marvelous wings to come out.

"You have done a great job as a nameless... Don't you think so too?" You continue, still looking down at him but leaned in a bit closer, too close for Sunday to maintain his composure. If he still has any, that is.

"Ah, th-thank you. That's very kind of you to say." As his wings move to cover his face, he can here an audible 'aww' coming from you which caught him by surprise. Resulting in him moving them to his side again, for a better view of what was happening.

"It worked!" Opening his eyes, Sunday sees you smiling and gushing over his wings - ah, right, his other wings that have appeared due to him being oh so flustered just by your simple remarks.

"May I touch them?" You asked, your gaze gentle, yet still intense that it makes Sunday gulp nervously as his face turn even more red.

"Yes, you may." Sunday doesn't know why he gave you permission, as if you being in such close proximity to him wasn't enough to get his heart pounding. Especially with the fact that his wings are actually pretty sensitive.

With a happy grin, you reach out to glide over the feathers with the back of your hand, not missing how doing it make Sunday shudders a bit.

"Oh, sorry!" You retrieve your hand after noticing.

"No no, it's fine... please continue." He assured, not wanting you to feel bad. Even if he doesn't exactly want you to keep thumbing his wings like this... purely because it's making him all embarrassed and a blushing mess.

"You know... what I said earlier about you joining the express. I wasn't just teasing you, I actually meant it." You reach out for his wings again, this time with a soft smile, making sure he knows you are being sincere.

Sunday made a dumbfounded expression, or atleast you think he is, his face shows a mix of gratitude and confusion as he stare at you.

"I am grateful that you hold me on such high regards, though... I do not believe I have made any significant contribution to the express, more less better than all of you." Sunday answered truthfully. How could you say all these good things about him when he doesn't deserve any of it? How are you still able to welcome him with open arm? After all his mistakes, after the grand pursuit of a dream paradise through such manipulative methods, and-

"Sunday!"

He blinked,

Once,

Twice,

"Hey, are you okay? You just zoned out for a moment." You move your hands from his wings to his shoulder, sitting down next to him again, tone worried.

"Sorry... I was just deep in thought. Were you saying something?" He quickly apologized, feeling bad for making you worried. Yet again another reason he doesn't deserve your praises, Sunday blames himself.

"I said stop thinking bad about yourself. Don't ever say anything like that... nobody is perfect, everyone has their own flaws and values. You just have to not let your doubts get to you." You turned Sunday towards your direction a bit, so that he's looking at you in the eyes.

"Hm, promise me you'll never think negatively about yourself again." You said firmly, waiting for him.

"I-I promise." With an exhale Sunday replied to you, smilling. "Thank you."

You smile back "There we go, now that's my little angle~"

!?

This is the second time you have caught him off guard in this conversation. Little angle? At this point he swear you will be the death of him eventually, Sunday think as you suddenly lit up.

"Well, let's lighten things up a bit..." you said, pulling out your phone. "Say cheeseeee" what are y-

Snap

Just like that, a picture of Sunday smilling sheepishly and flapping his wings was sent to the astral express family group chat. Earning you a panic, embarrassed Sunday and the multiple 'aww's from the trailblazer and March.

_

The Astral Express Family

You: (picture)

You: I found a happy bird on the express today~

March: aww

Trailblazer: wow! Six wings!

Trailblazer: aww

Sunday: ...

_

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1369

Chapter 40:

You all turned to look at Billy, who grabbed his little spell book from his body bag. "At least we have our personal items."

Immediately, you rushed to check your body bags, all bearing similar expressions of relief by being reunited with your pendants.

You wore your own necklace, the light metal cold against your flushing skin, and adrenaline still coursing through your pumping veins. Your fingers gently brushed the three moon phases, and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Wearing it, somehow, made you feel more secure and safe; a placebo effect that helped calm you down a little more and allow your head to be clearer.

The moment was interrupted, though by the sound of the morgue drawers being pulled back into place, the knocking sound almost startling you.

If that was not enough, the growing lights above you started to flicker before one shut down.

"The countdown," you exclaimed, eyes following the circle formed by the lights; while wondering how quick each light would turn off after the other.

Deep inside your instincts were telling you that the time would not last long, not as long as the other trials.

Agatha noticed that Jen was rather quiet, not panicking like usual. Instead, Agatha swore Jen was actually thinking of something for a change.

"You seem relaxed." She called her out. "Usually, at this point, you're either complaining loudly or freaking out loudly."

Jen gave her a hard look, clearly not in the mood for her annoying antics. "I'm thinking."

"Oh. About what?

"How to save your ass."

"Pardon?"

"I couldn't save Lilia. I didn't even try to save Alice. I'll be damned if I let you three idiots die."

You placed a hand on your waist as you looked at her, clearly not happy being called an Idiot or any of your companions being called that.

However, you held back any remark for the moment. It was the first time you saw Jen actually putting others above herself, when all those trials she had been selfish and the first to go when given the chance.

And considering you once again needed to work together somehow to make it through, this worked in your favour.

Of course, Agatha did not seem to share your thoughts.

"Wow. Such a purpose. How are you gonna do that without any magic?" She questioned, in the mood for an argument.

"Agatha, that's enough," you said, no authority coming from your voice much to your dismay.

Your body was still on edge, and it was taking a lot of mental training to remain calm and try to think of a solution, rather than letting your emotions and your haunting memories get the best of you.

Thankfully, you were not the only one ready to defend Jen.

"Y/N is right!" Billy said, putting his foot down. "She saved you from poisoning. She saved all of us. All while bound." He looked at Jen and offered a weak smile. "Maybe you don't need it."

Jen wanted to believe him, but she had a hard time too. Not that you blamed her. Your magic might be sort of a curse and a blessing to you, but you can not imagine your life without it.

"Well, if that's true, that means I've wasted the last century of my life." Jen commented. "That doctor in Boston didn't take anything from me. I gave it up."

It was then that you all noticed Agatha fidgeting faintly by tuning her fingers together and avoiding eye contact.

Unlike the others, you knew she acted that way when she knew something but refused to tell. Something that actually made her feel guilty, even slightly.

"Ags," you called her out, but she did not look you in the eyes. "You know something," she was about to argue, but you beat her to it. "I know that face and that fidgeting. I know what it means"

Defeated, Agatha started to throw parts of a story that matched Jen's story, and everyone made the connection.

"I didn't know it was you! It was the 1920s. I did the odd spell for bank notes. I don't know. The patriarchy really shelled out to shush a lady. It was bind or burn!" She justified herself, or so she tried.

For Jen was furious finding out the truth, and she had every right to be. With anger blinding her, she rushed to Agatha and even pulled a thick lock of her hair in one strong pull.

Agatha didn't even flinch at the pull, having built quite a pain tolerance thanks to Rio. She didn't even fight when Jen tied her wrists together with that strand of hair.

She might not react to it, but you were about to. No matter what took place back then, seeing Jen ripping out Agatha's hair like that made your protective instincts hit in.

Forgetting your own anxiety caused by the closed room, you were about to move and tackle Jen; having forgotten your powers worked normally.

Billy grabbed you by the waist and kept you back, surprised by your strength, considering he was taller than you and clearly heavier.

"Wait! Wait! Look!" He told you as he kept pulling you away from the two witches. "Yhe unbinding ritual."

This made you stop your fighting and look, realizing he was right. The strand of hair and the wrapped wrists were the basis for the ritual.

Jen was not trying to harm Agatha, you realized. She was trying to break the binds that kept her magic dormant and get back what was sealed away a century ago.

You calmed down, and Billy let you go. He stood right behind you, and the two of you watched as Jen repeated the same mantra again and again.

You hold nothing.

You hold nothing.

You hold nothing.

Each time that phrase was spoken with more power, with mode determination... with more need to work.

Jen's voice cracked, but she kept going, holding on every beat of hope that was left within her... one last chance to get back what was stolen from her.

In the end, it seemed to work based on Jen's expression.

Her face changed from shock to realisation and she could not help but fall on her knees, arms cradled in front of her chest and let out gasps and faint cries of hapiness; pink magic coming alive from her palms.

The sight broke your heart, seeing how Jen truly felt finally having her magic back.

Magic for witches was their essence, their core, and their will to live. It was part of them and having it sealed away, unable to sense it... to recreate this feeling of power and mysticism that existed within...

It was a fate worse than death.

Suddenly, Jen disappeared right in front of your eyes.

"What?" You exclaimed and rubbed your eyes, fearing your mind was playing tricks with you.

"Where did she go?" Billy asked next.

"Out of here," Agatha replied in a soft tone, deep down actually feeling happiness for Jen; capable of actually taking back what she was looking for.

You frowned. "But we are not done with the trials, yet"

Agatha looked at you, her gaze softening. "She is done with it. Her trial has already passed, and she got what she wanted."

You felt the need to argue but stopped yourself. The Road was a place unknown, and not even you or Agatha or Rio knew much about it. Each time it worked differently, each time seemed to make up something new.

So, who says the trials were not shortened? Or perhaps, it was giving a chance for some to find what they are looking for and be free without having to finish the road.

This was a comforting thought, deep down wanting to end this and get out.

The fact remained, though, how were you going to find what you are looking for? When you pretty much had nothing to work with and unlike Jen; there was no binding whatsoever that could be broken.

Chapter 41

[yanderefarm]

I know requests are closed but 1. I need to write this down before it falls from my skull and 2. I just want to offer you this general concept for the brain worms not as a request.

Achilles is well and happy to be tortured, yes, but what if despite that(or more likely because he knows he'll get beat more) he is very resistant to being feminized. Gotta make him a pretty princess but he hisses and yells that he is a man and you can't change him. But no, no, it's not changing him, it's revealing his true self; a pretty little pet who is so obedient and feminine.

-🪼

god i love this idea so much. i love forced fem so much!!!

idk why achilles just makes me wanna go hard even when i shouldn't.

cw;; blood, nsft, torture, forced fem, non con undressing, humiliation

i really like nonsexual forced fem like i feel like if it was for sex they could at least justify it in their mind but forcing them to wear something around the house or out in public is so much worse. they can't justify it and they can tell themselves over and over it's for you but when you're not even looking at them it doesn't feel like it's for you anymore.

achilles got out of the bath and stared blankly at the lacey panties and pretty skirt you laid out for him. this wasn't right he was sure you had set out another suit for him. he raised his voice just enough to call for you but it seemed you weren't listening. he wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up the clothing. he came to find you in the living room. you were with a friend. it was one of your work friends who knew about your relationship with achilles but that did nothing for his embarrassment.

"why aren't you dressed yet?"

"i... i couldn't find my clothes."

"chilles i can literally see them in your hands."

his eyes darted away. you let out a heavy sigh and stood up. achilles instinctively flinched as you approached him but you didn't care instead you ripped his clothes from his hands.

"I'm sorry about him. he clearly isn't getting it through his head." you grabbed the corner of his towel and before achilles could open his mouth you ripped it off exposing his lower body to the open air.

"god you're so embarrassing." you didn't even sound amused just annoyed. "now get your clothes on."

achilles turned to leave, his face burning red, but you grabbed his arm firmly. you pulled him back to the middle of the room with an annoyed look on your face.

"i don't trust you not to wear what i gave you. put it on right here."

achilles swallowed hard, he couldn't bring himself to raise his head because the overwhelming embarrassment was too much.

"you-you have my clothes, sir."

"mhm. so ask nicely for them."

"may i please have my cloth-"

you huffed in annoyance, indicating he'd done it wrong but you didn't raise your hand to strike him. like you were so disappointed in him that he wasn't worth hitting. that hurt worse than the actual pain would have.

his breath hitched as he opened his mouth again to try and correct himself but you cut him off. "what should I hand you first?"

"th-the under-"

you huffed again.

"my-my panties... please hand me my panties,sir." it was the most humiliating way he could think to phrase it and it seemed to please you as you handed him the thin lacey garment.

achilles closed his eyes tight trying to pretend he wasn't getting dressed in front of another person. there was no pretending away that his cock had gotten hard even as he pulled the lace over it. you helped him out, fixing his leaking member into the slightly too tight underwear.

when he finally opens his eyes again you're holding up the skirt. underwear is one thing but that skirt is too much.

"please- i.. i don't want to."

you roll your eyes at that.

"do i have to put it on you" you sound so disappointed.

"i don't want to... I'm not a woman."

"why are you being so difficult? you're usually so well behaved." you look at your guest and then back to him with a scowl.

"oh. do you think he'll help you? do you think if you throw a little fit, act like I'm forcing you, he's going to help you? do you think he'll save you? do you need to be saved now, achilles?" every word you say is filled with venom. you must know exactly how much your words are getting to him, the way they make him feel guilty and disgusting. you even manage to look hurt behind all that anger in your eyes.

"no i- i- please.... i just don't want to b-"

"could you go wait in the car... im sorry about this." you let out a deep sigh. your friend leaves the room so it's just you and achilles.

as soon as you both hear the front door shut achilles attempts to open his mouth only for you to punch him in the stomach as hard as you can. you watch him crumple to the floor in pain as one of his wounds reopens. you kick him onto his back so you can climb over top of him. you sit on his chest with the skirt in your hands and all achilles can do is kick and flail.

"you stupid fucking girl. you embarrass me in front of my guest. you tell me-" you elbow him in another wound making him howl in pain, his legs straightening enough for you to shove them down. "you tell me no? and now, you're fucking fighting me."

you elbow him one more time to get him to give up his struggling. his body goes limp as he sobs underneath you. you make sure to pull his legs in the most painful way as you start forcing his skirt onto his body.

"you are a pretty girl. you're my pretty girl. and no amount of throwing fits or asking others to save you is going to change that. do you get that?" you yank his skirt up over his legs.

you notice that the wound you'd been elbowing has reopened and he's bleeding all over his shirt. he knows he's in so much trouble but all he can do is sob.

"im not a girl.." you hear him mutter through tears.

"you don't get to decide that. you don't get to decide anything." you slowly pick yourself off of him.

"I'll clean you up and change you since you're such a big baby. and when i get back from hanging out with my friends you're fucking in for it. maybe while I'm gone you can come up with how you're going to apologize."

achilles just laid there, bleeding and sobbing. everytime he tried to close his eyes he would feel a breeze over his legs and fresh tears would flow from his eyes. the humiliation of being forced to be your pretty girl was one thing but knowing how angry you were at him, how much he'd disappointed you hurt worse. he didn't want to be a girl he didn't want you to be angry at him and yet here he was. the old wound soaking his shirt and giving him a stabbing pain everytime he let out his shakey sobbing breaths seemed like a fitting punishment. of course that was for you to decide, not him.

you cleaned up his wound and changed his shirt in silence. when you pulled out the pink bedazzled shirt you gave him a look, daring him to say something but he didn't. you were clearly still angry at him but you treated him just as gently as you always did. he couldn't help but lean into your touch as you cleaned up his face.

"'m sorry..." his voice was small and weak.

you let out a heavy sigh before you picked him up with ease and brought him over to the couch.

"... i know you're sorry, sweet girl." he flinched at your words. "you were very bad, though. so when I get home you're losing all rights to boy mode. no more suits, no more he/him, no more achilles. I'll pick you out a pretty girl name."

he whimpered softly as his chest got tight.

"do you understand?"

"y-yes sir..."

"now say I'm a good girl."

"I'm... I'm..." he struggled to say it, his breathing ragged, but when he looked in your eyes he could still see the disappointment from before. "I'm a good girl."

"yes you are." you leaned in and kissed his forehead. "be a good, princess."

[redr0sewrites]

im a handful (but thats what hands are for)

🍇A/n: the title is a song lyric,,,, iykyk

🍇Cw: smut, dirty talk, praise + degradation, pwp, fingering, riding, breeding kink, a bit of angst???, implied switch!Touya, fem!reader

🍇divider

you and Dabi had always been complete opposites in terms of demeanor. while he was carefree and frivalous, you always prided yourself on being complex and thorough. with the ever burning tension between you two, it was no wonder that you had ended up in the position you were in now- although this was certainly not the first time- pressed down on your bed with one of Japans, no, the worlds most dangerous criminals finger fucking you to hell and back.

"there she is," he whispers, the same words as the first time you'd let him fuck you. "knew there was a pretty little slut under that cold exterior."

you follow your script with practiced expertise, repeating the same words you'd uttered all those months ago- and so did he.

"ffuck you-"

"isn't that what i'm already doing 'ma?"

Dabi was mesmerized with you, to say the least. from the hitch of your breath when he first curled a finger into your pretty cunt, to the soft whines that slowly fill the room with each ministration, followed by the delectable squelch of your pussy as your clit rocks against his knuckles.

it was clear in every sense of the word that he was purely obsessed, almost worshipful- not limited to, but especially in bed.

"yea? y'like that?"

piercing blue eyes watch your every move, keeping careful catalog of every twitch and shudder you make in response to his actions. Dabi's thumb finds your clit with practiced ease, and he rubs swift circles over the sensitive bud.

"Dabi, oh-h, fuck-"

"thats not my name, hun," he coos, leaning down to press an almost condescending kiss to your forehead.

"y'really are worked up, huh? c'mon, we're all alone, you can say it."

"ffuck, Touya!"

"there she is," he smirks, curling his fingers and sliding in a third as you whimper. you can practically see his mind whirling with sawtrap level plans to keep you in bed with him, to finally let him truly be yours. in all the times you both had slept together, you had never fallen asleep beside him, never stayed the night, hell, never even mentioned it outside of the bedroom. it had started off as a challenge, but that soon melted into a raw, desperate, carnivorous need to be yours. Touya had never been wanted, so he rarely even dared to allow himself to want in turn- but fuck, did he want you.

he watches you as you cum like a sheep watches its guard dog, knowing deep down that you could ruin him, sink your teeth into his neck and tear out the remains of his bleeding, broken heart- and yet, the dog stays ever loyal, defending its livestock even at its own expense.

your ability to speak seemed to flee as your orgasm washes over you, sending ripples of pleasure across the planes of your body. all the while Touya continuously pumps his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, prolonging your pleasure as the world around you fizzes in and out of focus.

"y'alright?" he rasps, pulling his hand away from your sticky cunt- only to lick your release right off his fingers. you make a face and he snickers, and for just a second, you can see a ripple within the veil of time, and instead of one of the most dangerous people in the world, a snarky, beautiful young man is sitting in front of you. that was the difference between Dabi and Touya in your eyes- he could act cold and nonchalant all he wanted, but behind closed doors, he was your Touya.

"you want a taste?" his words pull you from your stupor, and you roll your eyes.

"no thanks, i'm good."

"are you sure? you taste sweet, y'know," he teases, and you laugh in spite of yourself.

"bull."

"don't knock it till ya try it," he snickers, before shifting to stand up. your body reacts without thinking, and you grab his wrist.

"where are you going?" you demand, and he turns to look at you, almost.... surprised.

"i was gonna go get something to clean up, but i guess if you'd rather be covered in your own slick-"

"what about you?" you motion to the obvious strain in his boxers, and he rolls his eyes.

"you worried about me, doll?"

"sit back down."

he obeys almost immediately, your commanding tone wiping the attitude out of his demeanor- but it isn't enough to diminish the teasing smirk off his face.

"why? ya gonna suck me off?"

"no," you murmur as you begin to shift closer until your hovering over him. with one hand, you push him down against the mattress, and he relaxes compliantly, like a ragdoll beneath your fingertips. you look down at him, lust clouding your gaze as he stares up at you with those big, blue eyes.

"then what're you gonna do, ma?" he mumbles, voice noticeably raspier.

"you'll see, Touya. be patient." you continue to hover over him, keeping yourself from fully straddling him just yet. he'd already shed most of his clothes earlier, leaving him bare before you in nothing but his boxers. his cock is already hard, straining up against the thin material of his undergarments.

you take your time to admire the pretty scene laying down in front of you- and pretty it is. his scars are even more defined in the dim lighting, and the streetlights from outside your window illuminate the silvery piercings holding him together.

you had been cursed- or rather, blessed- with intrusive thoughts of tearing them all out one by one with your teeth while he burnt you alive from the inside. it was disgustingly, beautifully gruesome, almost carnivorous, the way you loved- no. lusted for him. you desperately want him to be your undoing- and you, his- but you could never let yourself love him. not when he would never love you. you keep that in mind as you trail a hand over his chest and pectorals, yet your heart pays careful attention of the way his breathing hitches at your gentle touch.

"so pretty," you murmur, before leaning down to press a kiss to the conjunction of his neck and collarbone. Touya practically melts, getting all squirmy and unsure beneath you like he always did whenever you show him any attention.

"shut up," he hisses, but his words hold no bite as he shudders beneath you.

"mhm," you continue your assault on his neck, pressing gentle kisses across the scarred flesh.

"you nervous, Touya?" you tease, and he sucks in a breath.

"i said shut up."

"of course, baby~" you coo, pretending to ignore the strained whine that leaves his mouth at your words. he always got like this after a long day, all compliant and needy, but it was rare that he was this quiet. you indulge his good behavior, and your hands, which were previously exploring his chest, travel down to find purchase on the waistband of his boxers.

"can i take these off?"

"yea," he rasps, lifting his hips up off the mattress to assist you in removing his undergarments. his cock springs free, lightly tapping against his stomach in its erect state. you once again marvel at his complacency, and your heart flutters at how much he trusts you. then your brain tells your heart to shut the fuck up. regardless, you make eye contact with him as you spit into your palm before gingerly running a finger up the side of his aching length, causing Touya to grit his teeth to prevent another whine slipping out.

"don't tease," he grumbles, blue eyes narrowing in adorable irritation. you hum, watching the way his body tenses as you situate yourself above his aching length, aligning him with your entrance. scarred hands tentatively hover over your hips, and he looks up at you almost questioningly. you give a nod of approval and he grabs your soft flesh, rubbing small circles with his thumb over the plush of your hips.

"y'ready?" you mumble, before slowly sinking his tip between your folds. Touya nods breathlessly, watching as your cunt slowly begins to swallow up his length. his tip slowly protrudes into your gummy walls, and you shudder around his size. he's barely halfway in and he's already practicing breathing exercises to keep himself from cumming too early, with the way your squeezing him so tight.

you watch his stomach twitch beneath your hand as you sink further down his length. Touya's head is thrown back, and with every inch engulfed into your aching heat he lets out a few more tantalizing noises. your thighs burn as you finally seat yourself on his cock, with your clit ever so lightly brushing up against his navel as you get situated. you give yourself a second to get used to the slight burn you've associated with having him inside of you, and Touya squirms beneath you as he too struggles to adjust.

slowly but surely, you begin to roll your hips against his, marveling at the way his tip kisses your g-spot. Touya gasps as you raise your hips, almost letting him slip out of you entirely, before slamming yourself back down hard onto his cock. he lets out a strangled moan, squeezing your hips so tight youre sure that they'll bruise.

"yea? y'like that?" you parrot his words from earlier, rolling your hips in a desperate effort to coax out more of his lovely noises.

"ha-ah, fuck, you're so-o tight, 'm not gonna last, m'gonna cum in this pretty pussy," he slurs, looking up at you with hazy eyes.

"yea? s'that what you wanna do Touya? gonna make me yours?"

Touya nods eagerly, rocking his hips up into yours. his thrust hits your g spot perfectly, and you let out a wanton moan. he immediately takes a firm hold of your hips, pistoning his cock up into you again and again, repetitively hitting that spot so deep inside of you.

"you can, y'know." you pant, sweat dripping from your brow.

"huh?"

"cum inside."

Touya sputters something incomprehensible, and you have the audacity to giggle. at him.

"m' on the pill, hun. y'really are worked up, huh?"

Touya lets out a choked moan, recognizing his own words being spat back at him as he rolls his hips impossibly harder against yours. a scarred hand reaches between you both to rub harsh circles on your clit, and you gush, clenching around him at his ministrations.

"i, hah, 'm close- i want you, closer, please," he babbles, wrapping his free arm around your waist and pulling you tight against him. Touya nuzzles into your chest, his lips finding purchase on one of your nipples. your pussy squeezes him tight as he sucks lightly, and his cock twitches once, twice, three times before he cums. he presses down hard on your clit as he spurts inside you, continuing to fuck his release deeper into your spongey walls. those actions alone push you over the edge, and you call out his name as your second orgasm of the night washes over you like a tidal wave.

Touya continues rutting up into you for a few more seconds, prolonging both of your orgasms and pressing sloppy kisses to your chest and collar. he isn't sure what to focus on, or even if he can focus. his mind is fuzzy, filled with you, you, you. nonetheless, your happy to indulge as you paw at his chest, continuing to grind down against him until the pleasure begins to melt into overstimulation. Touya can barely comprehend the fact that you had just let him cum inside of you, and it sparked the possessive side of him that so often reared up in these moments with you.

"o-oh fuck, ffuuuck fuck fuck," he's gasping, cock twitching desperately as he pulls out. cum is dripping down between both of your legs, hot release pooling on the sheets beneath him. you hover over him for a second before collapsing down besides him, and a firm arm wraps around your body, pulling you flush against him. Touya marvels as you melt into his embrace, nuzzling into his neck. if he could cry, he probably would, he wants you insatiably, impossibly close. in this moment, he knows that if he could crawl inside your skin, he would. he would tear out his own burning heart and hand it to you on a silver platter in return for moments like this, where he could be soft, where he could be Touya instead of Dabi.

"shit," you mumble against his skin. "that was... wow. better than ever."

"good enough to make you stay the night?" the words slip out before he can stop them, and he regrets it almost instantly as you tense. fuck his sex-addled brain and his stupid mouth. he's fully prepared for you to immediately get up and leave, but instead, you surprise him like you always do.

"i didn't think you wanted me to stay," you whisper, and he blinks hard.

"f'course i did. i still do."

"..okay. i'll stay."

he can't help the smile that stretches across his face as you snuggle into him deeper.

"on one condition- or maybe two."

his heart sinks.

"we clean up first."

damn.

"and you have to promise that we'll discuss this in the morning. i don't want to keep doing... this. if we're going to continue to sleep together, i want to be, like, more than just friends."

Touya is silent for a moment, and he swears that his heart is beating so loud that the entirety of Japan can hear it. you had just said that. he was sure he must be dreaming.

"really?"

"yes, really. now let me go so i can clean this mess up before it dries!"

"...never. i'm not ever letting go of you ever again."

"ugh, you're such a handful," you grumble, curling into his warmth as he lets out a raspy chuckle.

"i guess you're stuck holding me."

"..yea. guess i am"

hey guys ! im so insane over him actually. he's literally eldest daughter syndrome (me) in the form of a traumatized man (i would not fix him. i support his atrocities. id help him fuck up endeavor.)

ANYWAYS SEND IN DABI/TOUYA OR JUST BNHA ASKS OR THIRSTS PLS

[armandsfangs]

this not now kitten gifset just brought to mind for me all the fics that feature daniel (old daniel especially god bless) calling daniel baby or babe and armand just melts like you get the occasional did he just call ME a 514 year old ancient vampire baby?? but mostly he eats it up and i just need that to happen on the show asap

(this is the gifset in question)

I'm not a big pet name person but I've seen this fanon so much that I've internalized it too 😭

Have young and old Daniel calling Armand babe:

---

1976

"What did you just say?"

Heat rushes to Daniel's cheeks, and suddenly he wants to bury his head in the ground. It had slipped out so naturally he didn't realise until his handsome vampiric stalker raised a sardonic eyebrow and questioned him in that stupidly silky voice.

Daniel runs a hand through his tangled curls, trying to casually hide his reddened face behind his arm. "I said, uh, do you wanna go to the movies tonight? You're always following me anyways, so might as well go together, right?" he rambles.

A shadow of malicious glee flits over Armand's angelic face. "No, that's not all that you said. Repeat it exactly."

Daniel thinks he would rather Armand just kill him right now and put him out of his misery.

"Don't be stupid, Daniel. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago. Now, speak."

The humiliation increases tenfold when a shiver runs down Daniel's spine at being commanded like a dog. The wicked glint in Armand's eyes confirms that he has noticed this and will be using this information to further his evil plot against Daniel's chastity.

Daniel mumbles, "Do you wanna go to the movies tonight... babe?"

Armand's terrible smile widens. It's almost blinding in its brilliance. But Daniel can't look away even if he wanted to. Armand is magnetic, the way he draws Daniel closer until the unnaturally cool huff of laughter from Armand's lips ghosts across his own. He shivers again.

Armand whispers like he's imparting a profound secret, "I would love to, beloved."

The endearment melts sweetly on his tongue.

2024

"Check this out, babe!"

It slips out of Daniel so smoothly that it takes Armand by complete surprise. His breath catches. Citrine eyes flick toward the younger vampire's glowing expression before quickly casting their gaze down to where a phone was being held in front of his face. For a moment, Armand is too conscious of the warmth creeping up his cheeks to pay attention to what Daniel is showing him.

His silence prompts Daniel to peer at him, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Babe? You alright? It's fine if you're not interested," Daniel says, a tad sheepishly. As if he's not making Armand's long dead nervous system go into overdrive.

It's an advertisement for a drive-in theatre showing 80s horror films, Armand realises faintly.

"No - that sounds lovely - we should go." The words tumble out of his mouth as he shifts his weight back to put some distance between them for fear of Daniel noticing the way his pulse quickens from the little endearment.

It's far too late. Daniel's shrewd green eyes morph into keen orange.

"You're turned on," he says bluntly. "It better not be from that picture of Freddy Krueger."

Armand lets out a snort. "You wound me, Daniel."

"Then..." A predatory smirk slowly spreads across Daniel's face. "What is it, babe?"

"Insolent brat," Armand says, without any bite. His cheeks are burning. Why did he feed so recently?

"Come on, baby, tell me what's wrong." Daniel is full on grinning as he leans forward, taking Armand's hand in his and dropping light kisses on each of his fingertips. "I'll take care of it for you, babe."

Armand's stomach flutters like a swarm of locusts.

"Such impertinence toward your maker," he says fondly, as Daniel moves on to pawing at his waist. He allows himself to be pulled onto Daniel's lap and melts into his arms with a contented sigh. "I am four centuries your elder, yet you insist on calling me 'babe'. Doesn't it sound ridiculous?"

Daniel shakes his head. "Who cares, as long as you like it? It's not about age. When you're a thousand years old and I'm five hundred and something, I'll still call you 'babe' and I'll still ask you to go to the movies with me. You know, like... Like our first date."

Armand stares at him, at the earnestness in Daniel's upturned face, at the way Daniel's cheeks still redden under his scrutiny.

Daniel shifts nervously. "H-Hey, don't just stare at me like that, say something, babe."

Clasping Daniel's face in his hands, Armand says, "Beloved, I'm going to make you come so hard you see God."

Daniel's eyes widen.

[vulpixisananimal]

<Null> {Mal Du Pays} (Siffrin) [Loop] [(???)]

[(Darkest of night. No moon in sight and stars that hide. The curtains were closed. They were closed, they really were closed. Actors milling about back stage, yet here you are, in the dusty forgotten corridors.)]

[(You woke up and couldn't sleep. Didn't want to. Finally, no annoying voices, just, you. Siffrin. Only Siffrin. Nothing more, nothing less. You stood there in the night for a minute, feeling the winds and the biting chill of the seasons turn to winter.)]

[(You walk to The Kids cooking supplies. You crouch down, and start rummaging.)]

[(You take a piece of carrot, and bite. Crunchy, different, tastes okay. You bite into an onion. Tasty, burns, good. Bread, boring, bleh. Garlic, oh that's a fun taste, strong, VERY strong.)]

[(Spices, too. You taste the cinnamon, thyme, ginger, good and textured, flavored, you cough a few time. Next is some drops of vanilla, peppermint-)]

"What're you doing?" [(You turn around. The Kid is there, it looks like having just woken up.)]

". . . Testing for poison!" [(You lie. What, would you say the truth? The truth that you hadn't gotten to taste something like this, REALLY taste something like this, for a long, long time? No. So you lie.)]

[(The Kid squints at you.)] ". . . Who're you?"

"I'm, Siffrin?" [(You reply.)]

"Nuh uh." [(They cross their arms.)] "'Frins weird but not THAT weird."

"But that's my name!" [(Keep your voice down.)] "Regular old helpful Siffrin, just, helping out?"

"Don't lie to me!" [(The Kid's trying to be quiet.)] "I know you're 'Frin 'cause you're ALL 'Frin but you're not the 'Frin I know!"

"Then just. Call. Me. Siffrin!" [(You're smiling.)] "Why don't you back to bed? Big day tomorrow, kiddo."

"Nuh." [(Big pout.)] "You gotta sleep too, not'frin. AND I still dunno who you are!"

"I said I'm-"

"I KNOW!!" [(The Kid barely contained their shout, then paused, then continued.)] ". . . Lulu's 'Frin, Null's 'Frin, 'Ays is 'Frin, you're 'Frin. Sif'frin got that name 'cause they're around a lot. You're 'Frin but you're also, uhm. . ."

[(You stare at them, still smiling. Then to the pack. You grab a bottle.)] "What's this?"

"Huh? Oh, saffron. 's Spice." [(The Kid shrugs, distracted.)]

[(You pause, then take some out and eat it. . . Tasty, floral, earthy, good.)]

". . . You're a weirdfrin." [(The Kid walked closer.)] "Weirdy weirdo weirdfrin."

"Yup! That's me! Weirdy weirdfrin Siffrin!" [(You turn and smile, holding the bottle up.)] "Saffron?"

"Uh huh."

"Do I really need a nickname if I'm Siffrin?"

"Uh HUH!" [(The Kid said insistently.)] "Same body or not you'd need a nickname!"

". . ." [(You hate it. So confident, mean, cooking good, kind now? The Kid was talking to you, talking to you. . . Normally? Fine. You put the cooking things back.)] "Saffron then. I liked it."

"Ok Saffron!" [(Well and just like that, you two were best buddies again. They helped put the mess away, but handed you the onion.)]

". . . . Onion?"

"You took a bite, dummy, eat it."

". . . Oh, right."

[(You take a few more bites of the onion, eye watering, it's, too much. You put it down.)]

"Heh, stupidfrin." [(The Kid looked so smug right now.)] "Punishment onion."

"Punishment onion." [(You agree solemnly, still smiling. You stand up.)] "I'm sleeping. Good night."

"Uh. . . Night." [(You turned away from The Kid. It all felt so alien, even still. . .)]

[(. . . You may never get used to this.)]

>>>

|You bolt upright. It's the middle of the night, you're, you're in a room, an inn room? Are you traveling? You are traveling, aren't you. You remember a lot of, walking. And before, fighting, no, and, before-|

|Red|

|The blanket feels heavy and inviting, and a second body lying in the bed was warm and soft, but, you had to get up. You stand, wobbly, your body feels wrong, very wrong, and small. Your vision is wonky, just, step by step. You walk to a little side of the room, mirror, mirror, mirror, you need, a mirror- there!|

|You can barely see yourself in this light. You, candle, or, crafted lamp, or- you find a small crafted light. With a spark you turn it on, a soft glow in the corner of a room and, and you look, in the mirror. . .|

|. . . . .|

|. . . . . That's not your face.|

|Your're, young. You look soft. You have messy darkless hair with dyed ends. You have one eye, and had scars down the neck. Your arms were short, you were short. You were breathing faster, you, you, this, you, you KNEW this body.|

|You're crying, no, nononono why, what's going on, why are, you, you remember, do you remember? No you do! Because, because it's, this body, it belongs to-|

"Siffrin?" |A soft, concerning voice came from accros the room. You whip around to see that other person, no, Isabeau. Isabeau was looking at you. You couldn't hide your emotions.|

". . . ." |You, couldn't speak. What, what do you do?!? Why are you here?!? You're and in their body, THEIR body, that body, person, someone, you, ruined the life of. Destroyed. Crushed. A-and, and-|

"H-heyyy it's okay, it's okay." |He was talking so softly. Like, like he cared about you?| "Are you new?"

". . . N-new?" |You finally say, your voice feels wrong.|

". . Haaaave you walked around? Like, this? Before?"

|'Like this' does he mean in a different persons body? Or outside of the house? Of frozen time? Just, answer.| "I. . . I don't think so?"

"Okay!" |He smiles at you.| "Don't, uh, freak out? So uh, youuuu're kind of sharing a body with a few people- oh crab are you okay?"

|Huh? Are you- oh. You touch your cheek, you're crying.| "I. . . I'm sorry, I don't know why. . ."

"It's okay, this stuff's confusing, haha. . ." |He looks away, he's worried.| ". . . O-oh! Sif keeps a journal, I think there's some stuff in there about, all this?"

"O-okay. . ." |You walk back over to your side of the bed with the lamp. There's a pack, yours? You think? After a bit of looking, you find a book you think is right, and open it.|

|. The inside cover has a couple pictures pressed into it. The first is a childs drawing of five figures, the one in the middle has an arrow with the word "You!" pointing to it. The second one is a smaller one with another figure on it. The first page had a big, bold, "DON'T PANIC!!!" at the top. Too late, but you read on, and, Universe willing, you would feel better after.|

|"If you're reading this, you're probably confused on what's going on." The handwriting was neat and deliberate, if this was to be a message to you, well, it was well crafted. "I'll try and explain things nice and quick, but you'll get the idea soon enough."|

|"You're sharing a body with me (Siffrin) and four other people at time of writing. Don't ask why, the brain just, kinda does this sometimes? I dunno." Ah yes, this was making you very confident. "This book we've been using to try and remember things, and note down who else we're sharing a body with."|

|"You see those pictures? That's our family! We're traveling with them all now, and they all know about our whole "body thing", so feel free to talk to them." Ah, that makes sense. The big, tough looking one must be Isabeau?|

|As if on cue, you turn to see him offer you a glass of water. You take it, smiling. He smiles back.|

|Back to the book. "There's some papers on this stuff in our bag if you want specifics, and at the back of the book we've been writing down who's in our little "system." So feel free to add yourself! It'll save everyone a headache." Can't you just, dissapear for a bit instead? "Lastly, we've also been writing down events daily starting on the next page. Leave a note on the latest entry when you read this. K?"|

|"We're all in this together, okay? Welcome to the club. - Siffrin."|

|. . . . You wanted to throw up.|

|You wanted to scream and cry and run away and dive into the ocean. You wanted to punch something. You wanted to see something break. You wanted to see the stars, you, you, you didn't want this. Right? N-no you, you don't deserve to be here. You SHOULDN'T be here. You felt, strange, like, you're not, who you think you are. . .|

|You remember yourself. You remember fighting yourself. You remember, pain, suffering, tears- Oh stars you can't think about that. You got a headache, and were crying more. You drink some of the water, calm, down. You just need water, and to breathe. Breathe in, hold for 1..2..3.........9..10.. And out. . . .|

"You okay?" |You hadn't noticed, but Isabeau had moved next to you.|

|You nod.| "I am. . . Okay. Just, okay."

"Well, uh, I'm here to help, okay?"

|You nod again, then back to the journal. You flip to the back of the book. At the top of the back page was one big title with stylised stars around it.|

|"CONSTELLATION"|

|. . . Oh, a collection of stars. It is what you all were. So, that's the name of your group? Cute. You look at the entries.|

|"Siffrin. He/they. I'll be in charge of the body the most."|

|"Loop, They/them~ Your wonderful, helpful Loop~"|

|"Mal Du Pays. It/its. Protector. Dont hurt the body and we're fine."|

|"Null. He/him. That's all you're getting."|

|"Saffron. He/they."|

|You were a little curious, or worried, why the last entry didn't have more detail. No matter, there were more in detailed descriptions on the next couple pages, too. . . You, you should add one.|

|. . . . . . . . . . . .|

|"Asterion. He/him."|

|The name just, came to you. You don't know why, but, you knew that was your name. Asterion. Oh. . . Or was it Asterius? You felt both were right, but, the first you. . . Liked more. Either a father of a tyrant king, or monster said king was cursed with. . . You didn't put more details in the journal. You didn't want to. And, if you did, you had a terrible feeling they'd. . .|

|. . . . You look at the latest journal entries.|

|Earlier Today: "Got into town! We'll take a day to relax, Wolworth is just a little bit further. Still glad that talk about Saffron went well - Sif"|

|Yesterday: "Fought sadness. Getting repopulated. Very weak. All is good. - MAL"|

|Two days ago: "Well it looks like lovely our new addition made the decision for us! He woke up in the middle of the night and scared Bonnie oh so badly. Eating an onion? Spices?!? Ugh, at least we have a name, now. Saffron. - Loop<3"|

|. . . How. . . Eventful? You have strange, phantom memories of these events. Remember remembering, like you should know it but don't. . . You leave a note under the latest entry.|

|"Woke up at night, not sure why I am here. Isabeau was able to help." You think for a moment. . . "I will not cause trouble, I am just very anxious about all of this. I may hide, but, thank you for the introduction. - Asterion"|

|You stared at the letters you wrote on the page. Reading and re-reading them a thousand times at least. . . They wont find out. They, can't find out. Please, don't find out. . .|

|You take a breath, and hold it, then release. You close the book and put it to the side.|

"Better?" |Isa asks. You drink the rest of the water he got you.|

"I. . . Yes." |You turn off the lamp and lay back down, staring at the ceeling.| "Yes I, I think I'll be okay."

|. . . Eventually, you close your eyes. Isabeau gets closer to you. As if on instinct, you fit yourself into his arms. He's warm, strong, and protective. . . Oh. . If he knew. . .|

|You had no plan. What WAS there to plan. You, lost. You lost one hundred times, in fact. Your title will live down and be remembered by all as one of doom. Oh. .The man who nearly saved a country. Well. . . Oh would it have truly been saved? Would it not just be forgotten in time as your home was?|

|That made it hurt all the more.|

|You, were not, him.|

|You felt with every bone in your body that you were that tyrant frozen in time. But you know in your soul you were not. The memories you have of those bloodiest of battles. . Oh. . They showed a villain who was cruel. So, so cruel. . Oh you could never do such a thing. It hurt to think about. It hurt to remember. And it hurt, it hurt in your stomach when you, you. . .|

|. . . You need, to sleep. . .|

|. . .|

|Your name is Asterion. And you are The King.|

[pygmi-cygni]

Pit Stop

I've been slacking on my poevember guys...I'll drop a few today just to say sorry.

cw: sickfic, bickering, fluff

"You're s'posed to put the tea bag in first," you grumbled from inside your blanket fort, groggily watching Poe fumble his way through making some Safro root tea.

"Hey, I'm the nurse here," he fired back, drizzling a bit of honey in the mug. "Blow your nose and be quiet."

You stuck your tongue out before dissolving into a hacking cough that rattled the furniture. Beebs beeped softly from the doorway, little orange light blinking with concern. Poe waved him off and carefully brought over your drink, wincing when it burned his palm

"Take it take it take it, it's hot," he hissed, almost sloshing it over the rim. You snorted at his dramatics and set it on the side table. The nest of tissues, heating pads and empty cups of tea had built up a fortress around you. For precaution, Poe had let you take the whole bunk and he was sleeping on the floor.

At first you protested, but he wanted to be close in case you needed help. And, this way he could take full advantage of the heated floor panels.

"How's the headache today?" Poe asked over his shoulder, dressing for his mission today.

"S'okay."

The tea was nice and soothing on your throat, and the tightness in your chest melted away. Your hum of contentment brought a grin to Poe's face. He kissed your cheek.

"Told you it would help."

"Yeah, but I had to tell you how to make it," you mumbled against his lips. He tugged your ear affectionately.

"I'll be back by tonight, don't die. Beebs will come in with meds in a few hours, okay?"

You nodded an affirmative and shuffled back under your hovel. Your legs were a bit achy from being curled in the same position, but your head was so exhausted you couldn't bring yourself to move.

Coughing weakly, you sighed and nodded back off to sleep.

Your nap was a little shorter than you'd like. BB-8 had left a small tray with some capsules on it. You took them gratefully and sat up, gingerly stretching your cramped shoulders. A satisfying pop and you fell back onto the bed with a sigh. The movement had given you some energy, and you decided to clean up a little.

Half of the tissues and empty food containers had been tossed by the time you felt a little weak. Dizzy, you sat against the bed frame, breathing laboriously. Your breath wheezed through your teeth. Still congested.

Poe chose that moment to walk through the door.

"Woah, hey, hey, what happened?" He rushed, automatically in doctor mode. You batted his hands away.

"Jus' got a bit sleepy, don't-"

"No, I told you to get rest," he chided, checking your face for...something, and scooping you up to lay back down. You groaned dejectedly.

"but I've been laying down forever-"

"Hush, or I'll strap you down."

Harrumphing, you pulled the blankets over your head and turned away from him. You were teasing, obviously, and you knew Poe was right. It wasn't a good idea to exert yourself after being sick for so long.

A warm pair of hands carefully peeled away your protective shield. Poe's big brown eyes peered down at you, face twisted in a playful glare.

"Where's my good night kiss," he whisper-shouted. You snorted at him, realizing he was hanging half-off the bed in an attempt to reach you. You coughed gently into your elbow.

"No kisses when I'm sick."

He scoffed. "Is it a mouth-killing sickness? Otherwise I'm not sure why that would prevent you from-"

"Actually, yes," you interrupted, giggling, "it is a mouth killing sickness, and my lips no longer work-"

"Oh, finally," he sighed dramatically, "maybe then I'll get some peace and quiet around here-" his fingers dug into your ribs and you squealed, batting him away and laughing hoarsely. He tickled you until you started coughing again. Your ribs quaked with the force. Poe rubbed a hand over your back, offering a glass of water.

"Hey, careful," he soothed.

"Your- cough - your fault," you wheezed, gulping it down gratefully. His smile was warm as you settled back in with a yawn.

"Yeah, okay. We'll take a pit stop on the tickle fights then," he relented. You smiled at each other for a soft moment, him crouching next your bed and you buried in blankets. Poe's finger came up to trace your nose, humming gently. Your eyelids grew heavy as you tried to place the song.

Heavy on the mountains, as we walk...."That's not how it goes," you accused, sitting up. He pushed you back down and shrugged.

"It's how I heard it."

"No, it's early in the mountains, not heavy-"

"Oh, just get some sleep," he snapped playfully, pressing a firm kiss on your forehead, "bedtime was two hours ago."

"I'm not five," you groused, but smiled when he kissed both of your cheeks. Poe rested his head next to yours and resumed stroking your cheek, humming the correct song this time.

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