#i will tag more when my fever goes away

[maximura]

Park Seonghwa: MATZ (2024)

[strang3lov3]

Bedridden

If you had cough syrup, you’d use that to put his ass to sleep. But you don’t, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man. 🍆💦❤️‍🔥

Joel is sick and refuses to rest, so you knock him out the best way you know how. (5.4k)

Tags - smut, lotsa sexual tension, blow jobs, pussy pronouns, teasing, fingering, unprotected piv, riding the sick old man’s cock, creampie, non-graphic descriptions of being sick. JOEL DOES THE DAD SNEEZE. coughing, fevers. That’s all. Joel is stubborn and grumpy while you take care of his old as fuck ass. Arguing with the old man, forcing the old man to bathe, forcing the old man to eat and drink, forcing a thermometer in the old man’s mouth. Joel bitching you out the whole time. Joel is kind of exactly like Dennis in IASIP when the gang gets quarantined. Fic Help - My usuals! @beefrobeefcal, your unhinged comments on the doc were the best part. and @endlessthxxghts thank you for your help <3 A/N - Heyyyyyyy. I promised this fic yesterday and then didn’t deliver. Sorry. It just needed to marinate in the doc a little longer or something. It’s been a bullshit ass few days and I’m,,,,handling it. Anyway, I’ve been sick as balls so that’s how this fic came about. Everybody wash your hands 🧼

There’s a fine point late in the year, right after summer turns to fall. You can fall asleep with the window over your bed cracked open just an inch to let the crisp, cool air blow over your face as you cocoon yourself in blankets. In the mornings you wake to that same breeze and the birds chirping, though less and less as they fly south for the upcoming winter. 

Not this morning, though. This morning, you’re awoken by a chesty, hacking cough coming from outside your window. You sigh as you get out of bed and push the curtains away from the window to get a better look at what the hell is going on out there. 

And it’s just your neighbor, Joel. You should have guessed it’d be him, you heard his earth shattering, deafening sneeze the other day when you waved to him as you walked by his house. Joel waved back at you with the same hand he sneezed into. Ew. 

Everyone’s getting sick lately, it goes around quickly in Jackson. Always does - it starts with the kids and works its way through the community, and a good four to six weeks are filled with endless sneezing and coughing and mucus.

Joel’s coughing up his lungs as he rakes up the leaves in your yard, a job he’s seemingly assigned himself, because you sure as shit didn’t ask him to do this. He has a habit of taking on your chores and home maintenance out of his own frustration. 

You pull a robe over your pajamas and slide on a pair of slippers, then leave out of the front door to greet Joel. “Good morning, Joel.” 

Joel clears his throat. “S’actually noon, lazy ass. ‘Bout time ya woke up.”

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing?”

“Exactly what it looks like.” He sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Gross. “M’workin’.” 

“Yeah, I see that. But you sound sick.” 

Joel ignores the accusation, “Your yard looks like shit, by the way,” he says. “Wouldn’t kill ya to rake once in a while. ‘Stead of makin’ me do it.” 

“You choose to do this. I don’t make you do anything,” you argue, rolling your eyes. It’s funny, though. Joel’s turning into the caricature of the old man angrily shaking his fist at kids playing on his lawn. All crotchety and pissed off about nothing. You step closer to him and wrap your hand around the handle of the rake, pulling it towards yourself. “Besides, Mother Nature put those leaves there for a reason,” you add. 

“Sure, smartass. For you to ignore and for me to clean up. Now, give it,” Joel tugs the rake back. Whatever. You let him. Joel rakes more of your leaves into the pile he’s created, then doubles over in another coughing fit. You rub your palm on his back, patting him gently. He’s sweating through his flannel. “Oh, Christ. Fuck me.” 

“Joel, you look awful.”

You help him stand up, “You’re a terrible flirt, darlin’,” Joel replies dryly. But he knows you’re not wrong. He saw in the mirror how pale he looked this morning, the dark circles around his eyes. 

“Oh, shut up.” You press the back of your hand against Joel’s forehead, all sweaty and warm. “You’re burning up, Joel. You’re sick.” 

“I am not sick,” Joel protests through another cough. “I’m fine. How ‘bout you worry ‘bout yourself ‘stead of fussin’ over me.”

“You’re hacking up a lung in my yard. I’ll worry about you all I want, thank you.”

In response, Joel grumbles something you can’t quite make out. You roll your eyes and take the rake from him, dropping it on the grass. ��My rake,” Joel murmurs, annoyed and defeated. With your work clearly cut out for you, you take his hand and lead him into your house. “Aw, hell. What’re you doin’ to me.” 

“Taking care of you,” you reply.

“Didn’t sign up for this bullshit,” Joel complains. “I don’t need takin’ care of.”

Oh, he’s a peach. Most men, when sick, are total babies - pathetically crying about their headaches and stomachaches to women who deal with the same symptoms on a monthly basis. It’s charming, truly. But not Joel, though. In his stubbornness, Joel refuses to ever admit when he’s sick, like he’s got something to prove. Can never let himself be taken care of, because that’s his job - to take care of others. Always has been. 

Once inside, you have Joel take off his boots, then usher him to the bathroom with a hand on his back, his flannel damp with sweat. “Sit.” You reach for Joel’s shoulders and push him down, forcing him onto the lidded toilet. You crouch down at the bathtub and plug the drain with the stopper, then turn the water on - not too hot, not too cold. “Yeah, this is good. This’ll make you feel so much better.” 

“Oh, c’mon. Turn off the damn water. I’m not takin’ a bath.” 

“You are, too.” 

“Am not.” 

“Joel,” you bite. Joel parrots your name back in the same threatening tone.

“We’re breaking that fever one way or another, Joel. So you bathe yourself, or I’ll do it.” 

Joel cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, will ya, now?”

You go quiet, no retort to his comment. Heat rises to your cheeks and you focus on the bathtub filling with water to avoid Joel’s taunting gaze. After a long enough silence passes, Joel changes the subject. “I don’t have any clean clothes, y’know.” 

“Then I’ll grab you some from your house,” you mumble.

“Mm,” Joel grunts. “Got an answer for everything, don’tcha?”

You glare. Joel glares too. You fold your arms across your chest and raise your eyebrows at him. You are not losing this battle. 

Joel sighs in defeat. “Alright, go on an’ get, then. I’ll take the fuckin’ bath if it’ll get me fifteen minutes away from you obsessin’ over me. There. Happy?” 

“Happy.”

You leave Joel in the bathroom to bathe himself, closing the door behind you. Still wearing nothing but pajamas and a robe, you change quickly into a hoodie and jeans, then leave through your front door for the second time.

Joel’s house is right next to yours, so it’s not a long walk. Mentally, you’re kicking yourself for your stupid threat to bathe Joel. The way he responded to it, ‘Oh, will ya?’ and how bashful that made you, the embarrassment written all over your face in big, black, permanent marker. Your crush on the older man is obvious, and Joel, never the gentleman, will jump at any opportunity to make you squirm. Like when he catches your eyes lingering on him for a little too long, he’ll tease you for it. “S’rude to stare, y’know,” he’ll taunt, always with that stupid fucking grin on his face. Smile lines framing his cheeks, crows feet handsomely peeking at the corners of his eyes. You really need to stop setting yourself up for these things. 

Once in Joel’s house, you head upstairs for his bedroom and rifle through his dresser drawers for some comfy clothes. You pick out a pair of plaid boxers, some gray sweatpants, and a navy waffle-knit henley. You bunch up his clothes and inhale, Joel’s natural smell still lingering in the clothes, even washed. 

In his kitchen, you notice some vegetables sitting out on his countertops. Carrots, potatoes, onions. You grab those too, then check the fridge for leftover chicken or turkey or something. He usually has some, and usually brings it to you after he’s had his fill. “This is for you, trouble. Cause y’don’t eat enough,” he’ll gruff. “Would you like me to heat it up for ya?” And whether you say yes or no, he always does. It seems to make him happy or fulfill him somehow, so you let him take care of you like that. If only he’d let you return the favor.

Bingo. There’s chicken in old Tupperware right on the top shelf, and yesterday’s date written in Joel’s terrible handwriting from an old, dried up Sharpie. You take that too, then go back home. 

You leave Joel’s food you stole on the kitchen table and stop at your linen closet for a fresh towel. You knock on the bathroom door, “Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’.”

“I have your clothes. And a towel.”

“Good. I need those,” Joel says. “C’mon in, then.” 

You open the door, averting your eyes from Joel’s naked body in the bathtub. “Relax. M’not gonna let you see somethin’ you ain’t ‘sposed to.” He’s got his hands covering his manhood, the rest of himself on display - toned biceps, veined forearms. His belly is pillowy and hairy and his legs look so long, all bare like this. His toes peeking out of the soapy bathwater. You set the towel and his clothes down on the toilet, stealing an even longer look at him when you think he doesn’t notice. “I see ya snoopin’, trouble. Wanna take a picture?”

You roll your eyes and ignore the offer, turning your attention to Joel but keeping your eyes focused on his face. His hair is slicked back, and his grays pop out against the rest of his dark hair, little ringlet curls at his neck. The asshole is criminally handsome. 

“Are you feeling better?”

“I feel fine. Like I’ve felt all day,” Joel lies. His body betrays him instantly when another cough wracks through him. 

“Right. Well, you smell better, at least.” 

Joel rolls his eyes, “Nice one, sweetheart. Thanks. Now scram, so I can get dressed.” 

You leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind yourself again. You can hear the sound of the bathtub draining and Joel getting out of the tub as you stop at the linen closet again, this time grabbing some queen sized sheets and pillowcases. 

In your living room, you pull some cushions off of your sofa and pull out the built-in bed, then dress it with the sheets and an old floral quilt. You cover your own pillows in the pillowcases, then fluff them nicely and set them up for Joel, who’s leaving the bathroom now, combing his hair back.

“Stole your comb,” he says, tossing it for you to catch. He stops in the living room and looks at the pull-out bed that you made up, the corners of the sheets tucked in and everything. “The hell’s all this?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” You mock his words from earlier. “Your bed.”

“You’re bein’ ridiculous. I ain’t even sick.”

You ignore Joel and point to the bed. “Get in.”

Joel rolls his eyes but gets in the bed anyway, springs squeaking under his weight. “M’not gettin’ in this bed ‘cause I’m sick or ‘cause you’re makin’ me. Just feel like sittin’.” 

“Sure, Joel,” you sigh. “How much water have you had today?”

“Plenty.”

“How much is plenty?”

“It’s enough,” he snaps impatiently. You leave him just for a second to fill a glass with some water, then bring it to him. Joel pushes the glass away, “I said I’ve had enough.” 

“I’ll decide what’s enough, now here–” you put the glass into his hand, “Drink.” 

Joel drinks the entirety of the glass, glaring at you the entire time. Good god, if looks could fucking kill. The cool water soothes his scratchy, sore throat, but Joel won’t tell you that. “You’re a tyrant, sweetheart,” he tells you, voice raspy and low. What he doesn’t tell you, however, is that if the shoe were on the other foot and you were the sick one right now, he'd be just as overbearing over your health. Probably worse. 

You pout mockingly at Joel as you take his glass. “Stay here. Don’t get up.” 

You get up from the bed to go into the kitchen and begin preparing a soup for Joel to soothe his aching throat. You start by dicing onions, then chopping some carrots. You toss them in a large pot with some butter, letting the vegetables soften. You’ve even got some leftover bread you made yesterday, so you turn on your oven to heat it up. You can hear Joel getting restless, tossing and turning in the less than comfortable bed. Probably should have turned on a movie for him, left him a book or something to occupy his restless mind. “You okay?”

“M’fine. Mind your business.” 

You open Joel’s Tupperware and chop up his chicken into little bits. When you look up, Joel’s out of bed. You scoff. He’s forcing open your window, grunting as it squeaks. “Joel, what did I tell you? Get your ass back in that bed.”

“Relax, would ya? M’tryin’ to get some air in here.” Joel successfully forces the window open, and cool air blows into your tediously warmed home. “House is a fuckin’ oven.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably your fever talking, dumbass. Put my window down.” 

“I really outta fix this window for ya. Ain’t good to leave it like this. I’ll get my tools an’ I–”

You march across the kitchen and into the living room, knife in hand and using it to point to the bed. “Joel.”

“You scare me,” Joel mumbles, raising his arms in surrender. He closes the sticky window for you, then you march him back to the pullout. Before Joel lays down, he glances in the kitchen at what you’ve been cooking. He heard the sounds of you chopping, but with his nose all congested he can’t smell enough to hazard a guess as to what you’ve been making. Joel narrows his eyes at the stolen Tupperware on your table, the carrots and onion peels to the side, and recognizes it all as his. “Is that my…?” 

“Just lay down, Joel.” 

“Did you take that from my fridge?” 

“I did.”

You’re completely shameless about this, there’s not even a half-assed attempt at lying your way out, and Joel’s beside himself. “You stole from me, you little–” You urge Joel into bed, fluffing the pillows behind him as you ignore his tantrum. “You are unbelievable. I could throttle you, you know that?”

“Go ahead, Joel,” you challenge. A slight breeze could knock this sick old man down to his knees. You tuck Joel into the sheets, then adjust the quilt over him again. And this time before leaving him, you grab an old book of word searches in a basket under an end table. “Here.” You toss it to him along with a dull pencil. That should keep him busy.

Back in the kitchen, you’re still working on Joel’s soup. It’s bubbling away on the stove, and you’ve just finished making egg noodles to make the dish a little heartier. Something to stick to his ribs. It hits you then, that you don’t hear sniffling or coughing. Joel’s gone quiet, suspiciously so. 

And lo and be-fucking-hold, Joel’s up again. This time, with tools. Tools that you don’t have, tools that he must have snuck out and grabbed from his home at some point. “Joel!” 

“There,” Joel says, moving your window up and down seamlessly. “Window’s fixed.” 

“How many times do I have to say it?” 

“How about you try a ‘thank you’, huh?” Joel shoots back.

You shoo him back to bed. You slice a bit of warm bread, then ladle some soup into a bowl and bring it to him with a spoon. “Eat,” you tell him. 

Joel eats a spoonful, and it’s written all over his face how much he enjoys it, the warm broth relieving his sore throat. “So what’d you poison it with, huh?”

“Oh, you’re such a dick.” 

Joel smiles, only teasing. “M’sorry. S’just that you shouldn’t be doin’ all this for me, s’all.” Joel squeezes your knee comfortingly. “Thank you. I mean it, darlin’.” He’ll let you feed him, but no more than that. You’re too sweet for your own good. “S’good soup.”

“I’m glad you like it, you asshole.” You smile too, and push some of Joel’s hair out of his face. He finishes his bowl of soup, even has a second one. You take his bowl away and wash it at the sink.

“Should let me do that,” Joel says, following you into the kitchen. “Ain’t that how it works? One cooks, the other cleans.” Joel bumps you to the side and takes the soapy dish from your hands.

“Maybe another time,” you offer, attempting to take back the bowl. “Don’t want your germs on my dinnerware.” But Joel holds on tight, so you let him wash the dish. Since he wants to die on this hill. So you dry your hands, then feel his forehead once again. You frown, displeased that the bath didn’t work at curbing his fever at all. He’s still burning up. “I’ll be right back.” 

You go to your bathroom and open the cabinet vanity, where you have an old Walgreens thermometer, the paint all smudged off. You wash it with soap and water in the sink, then return to Joel. Amazingly, you find him in the bed doing his word search puzzle, and you didn’t even have to tell him to go lay down this time. 

The bed creaks under you as you sit down next to him. You put his book down, “Open,” you tell him, thermometer in hand.

“Oh, c’mon now,” Joel complains. “Get that thermometer outta my face.”  

You shake your head no, and tug on Joel's chin so that he opens his mouth. You place the thermometer under his tongue and he closes his lips around it, staring daggers at you the entire time thermometer reads his temperature. 

He’s so handsome. Big, sparkling brown eyes underneath brows knit together in irritation. Pouting lips. Age looks good on him, perfectly both softens and enhances his rougher edges.

The thermometer beeps. You read the temperature, 102.3°F. Why Joel’s even upright with a fever like this is a mystery, but that’s men for you. Fucking idiots. “That’s a hell of a fever you’re running, Joel.”

“You’re full’a shit. Gimme that.” Joel sniffles and snatches the thermometer from you to read the number for himself. He shrugs. “S’old. Probably faulty. Can’t trust it.” Joel covers his mouth with his elbow and coughs loudly. 

“You’re old and faulty too, Joel. Look at you.” You offer him a handkerchief to wipe his nose. “You’re falling apart.” 

Joel scowls at you before blowing his nose. You leave him once more, this time to bring him a cool, damp rag. You press it against his forehead, and Joel closes his eyes. “Does that feel nice?”

“No. Quit that.” 

But Joel’s body betrays him. He’s sighing in relief, and his tensed muscles loosen. His breathing, while still shallow, has slowed as much as it can, soft belly rising and falling with steady breaths.

“Are you falling asleep?” 

“No, I’m not. M’not tired,” Joel argues. He tries adjusting the now lukewarm rag, warmed by his body heat.

“You should sleep.”

“Nah.”

 You take the damp rag off of Joel’s forehead and flip it so that the cooler side soothes his hot, feverish skin. “You know, Joel, I think this is why god made women. To take care of stupid, sick men like you.”

“Hm. Could be so. But I think he sent you to me as a punishment of sorts.” 

“Is that so? A punishment?”

“S’right. An’ some day, you’ll fool some poor man into marryin’ you and he’ll have to put up with this same shit the rest of his life. I don’t envy that sorry bastard one bit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you coo, wiping away a droplet of water that rolls down his temple. “You tell me all about it, Joel. Tell me how terrible it is.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Joel continues his tirade, bitching and moaning about how you're doing too much, that none of this is necessary. ‘Quit fussin’ over me’ and so on.

You know that after this, Joel will try to leave you, go home and fiddle with things in his home that aren’t broken - or worse yet, he’ll tinker with the things in yours that he deems in need of fixing. Squeaky door, creaky floor panels. You listen to his slight wheezing, his sniffling, his voice all raspy and broken. He really does need to rest, the poor man. 

If you had cough syrup, you’d use that to put his ass to sleep. But you don’t, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man. 

You remove the damp rag from Joel’s head and set it on the coffee table behind you. Joel’s eyes are shut as he takes shallow breaths, and you trace lazy patterns on his stomach, inching your way down, down, until you’re rubbing his warm bulge, feeling him stiffen beneath your touch. “Goddamnit, what the hell are you doin’ t’me, now?” Joel groans. He takes your wrist and squeezes it gently in his grip.

“Nothing, Joel,” you answer innocently.

 “Bullshit, it’s - you’re - oh, fuck.” Joel bucks into your palm. You slide your hand beneath his sweatpants to touch his bare cock, amused at how Joel decided against wearing boxers today. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart. You gotta, you can’t–”

“Shhh,” you hush him. You drag your nails through his patch of coarse hair, playing with those long and wiry hairs. You palm his cock again, half hard and growing harder by the second. Before this goes further, you tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Lift up for me, Joel.”

Joel lifts his hips and you tug his sweats down the rest of the way, then continue touching him. You spit into your hand and pump him from top to bottom, taking special care to gently massage his balls when you reach the base of his cock. “Ohh, darlin’. Oh lord.” 

Joel’s stiffened to full length now. You kiss the tip of his cock, all the way down his shaft before licking your way back up, one long, fat stripe. You swirl your tongue around the head and dip your head, teasing him with it as you bob your head up and down, taking more and more of him down your throat with each pass.

Joel moans, his sick voice breaking a little. He keeps a heavy hand on your bobbing hand and wonders what the hell he did to deserve this from you. He should have stopped fighting his sickness long ago if this is what was in the cards for him. 

Realization dawns on Joel. It all makes sense, why you’re sucking him off at this particular moment. You’re trying to put him to bed, you goddamn deviant. “You’re trouble,” he accuses. “I know exactly what you’re doin’.” 

“Hmm?” You turn your head to Joel, his cock still in your mouth. You bounce it against your inner cheek, and Joel groans at the lewd image of his cockhead bulging in your mouth.

“Yeah,” Joel says. “And let me - oh, fuck-” You drop your head low, taking all of him into your mouth. So deep that your nose is buried in his pubic hair. “Let me tell ya, darlin’, what you’re doin - it ain’t gonna work on me.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop. “It won’t?”

Joel shakes his head. “Mm-mm. You’re wastin’ your time.” 

“Oh. Well, I should stop, then.” 

You begin to pull off of his cock, but Joel forces you back down. “Nah, you don’t have t - you gotta give it your best shot, right?”

You smile with Joel’s cock in your mouth. What a fucking guy. You pull off of him only momentarily, garnering a protesting groan spilling from his lips. You take off your shirt and unbutton your pants. “Lemme help you with that, c’mere, darlin’,” Joel says, pulling your pants and panties down your legs. He unclasps your bra next, then sheds his own clothing. 

You take him right back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck his length. This time, though, you play with your pussy. As you move up and down Joel’s shaft, you slip through your folds, dipping down to your wet hole to gather your arousal on your fingertips. You circle your clit a couple of times, then push your fingers in and out of your pussy. 

“You fuckin’ yourself on your fingers, sweetheart?”

“Mm-hm,” you hum, mouth stuffed full of Joel’s cock.

Joel pulls your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own, much thicker and longer ones. “Let me,” he says. “S’my job. Shouldn’t have t’do that to yourself, ‘less you wanna. Or if I say so.” 

Joel spreads your thighs wider. He moves his pointer and middle fingers up and down, exploring your slick, velvety pussy. He sucks those two fingers and then his thumb and rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, all swollen and wet with your arousal. You moan at the action, the vibration of your voice traveling right down his shaft and to his balls. He bucks himself into your mouth.

Joel inserts his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, pumping in and out slowly before curling them upward, stroking right where you need him to. “Got a nice fuckin’ pussy,” he purrs with his hoarse, gravelly voice. You pulse around his fingers, and Joel admires the way your tight hole hugs him as he moves in and out of you. “She’s makin’ such a mess, drippin’ all over me.” 

You twist your fist up and down Joel’s shaft as you suck him, working him closer and closer to the edge. Joel’s content with this, the prospect of coming down your throat and fucking you with his fingers. But you have a different idea, and when his balls are tightening and his shaft is twitching, his breathing quickening, you pull off of him. 

Joel groans in frustration, but his anger is quickly eased when you straddle his hips. You reach between your legs for his cock and stroke it, dragging the tip through your folds, up and down, up and down, dipping it in and out of yourself to tease him. “You’re fightin’ dirty.” 

 Joel’s exercised enough self control today and doesn’t let you tease him for long. He puts both of his large, weathered, and masculine hands on your waist and pulls you right down on his cock, the initial penetration causing a stretch so intense you see stars for a second. “Oh god, Joel,” you moan, clutching his shoulders. 

“I know, I know,” Joel whispers, rubbing your back. “You good, sweetheart? You need a minute?”

 “Just - just a second.”

 “Take your time. Know it’s a lot, you’ll get used to it.” 

Joel gives you a second, then inches you up and down on his cock to get you adjusted to the sensation of being so full of him. Soon enough, the ache dissipates and is replaced with pleasure, nothing but pure pleasure. You rest against his hot body, rocking your hips to grind against his pubic bone. 

You know that by the way he bucked his hips into your mouth, how he pulled you down on his cock, how even now he moves you, that he’ll tire himself out. Your plan was simply to make him come to knock him out, but this - this works too. Exhaust his body, get yourself off in the process. Killing two birds with one stone. 

Joel fucks you harder now, hands on your ass to move you up and down on his cock. He bends his legs at the knee for more leverage, bouncing you on his lap. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts. He moves you so that your chest is right above his face, and one at a time, sucks your nipples into his mouth, teeth lightly grazing them. 

You hold onto Joel’s broad shoulders to steady yourself, looking down at him as he fucks himself into you. He’s so handsome, cheeks and chest all flushed red, a sheen of sweat glittering at his hairline, his graying curls damp. Joel’s eyebrows are knit together as he fucks you, tracing your curves with his gaze. He pulls you against his chest as he ruts against you, his scruff scratching your skin so deliciously. “Takin’ me so good. Look so pretty on my cock like this.” 

You move at his will. Joel’s underneath you, rocking himself  in and out of your dripping, tight pussy. His thrusts are getting sloppy, hips stuttering in a non-rhythm as he pushes himself inside you over and over. He must be getting close now. 

“Up, sweetheart. Lean back f’me.” 

You peel yourself off of Joel’s middle, all slick with his sweat. Joel spits into his hand and presses the calloused pads of his fingertips against your clit. You roll your hips against him, savoring that much-needed friction against your clit.

“Like that, darlin’. Jus’ like that. Fuck yourself on my cock,” Joel says, rubbing your sensitive bud with tight circles. “Gonna watch you come all over me.” 

“Yeah,” you moan, “Wanna come for you.” 

Joel loves you like this. Your face contorted in pleasure, mouth agape, body quivering and twitching on top of him. He steadily massages your wet, swollen clit and wears a crooked smile when he feels your cunt start to pulse around him. And you think you’re pulling one over on him, but look at you, all fucked out and delirious. You’ll probably crash after this, and Joel will go right back to fixing up your house. There’s a door hinge that’s been squeaking…

“Oh my - Joel, I’m - I’m gonna -” 

“Know you are, sweetheart. Let me have it,” he groans, voice all broken and hoarse. “Come all over my cock, darlin’. Let go f’me.” 

That hot, sticky pleasure in your gut begins to intensify rapidly. You go quiet just before it happens, then let out a long, whimpering moan when your orgasm takes over your body. You shudder and jerk as Joel fucks you through your release, and once you’ve ridden it out, Joel pulls you tight against his chest. 

While you come down from your high, Joel frantically fucks you, slamming his hips against yours as he chases his own climax, balls tightening and his belly filling with warmth. “Oh, goddamn. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Joel pants as he comes, painting your insides with his hot seed, the warmth of his release and the pulsing of his cock so satisfying. 

Coming down from his orgasm, a wave of exhaustion hits Joel. He finds himself unable to move, unable to open his heavy eyelids. He might’ve been wrong, because napping away the rest of the afternoon doesn’t sound quite so bad, now.

You pull your body off of Joel’s and he lets out a sighing grunt when his softening cock slides out of your body, the mess he created with you spilling all over his lap. You grab that washrag you held against his forehead and clean him up and then yourself, then get up to dispose of it. 

Joel grabs you by the arm, his grip weak. “Don’t you go anywhere, trouble,” he grumbles. 

“But I’ve gotta take care of this, Joel,” you protest. 

“Deal with it later. Just -” Joel yawns and pulls you down and holds you tight against his chest, as tight as he can, anyway. “Jus’ stay with me a minute.” 

Joel’s eyes are still shut, and his breathing becomes slow and rhythmic. It’s laughable how quickly sleep is taking over his sick, exhausted body, having used what little life he had in himself to fuck you stupid. Like that last burst of energy from a dying star. “I thought you weren’t tired,” you tease.

Joel sniffles. “M’not.” 

“Mhm. Sure.” 

“Just checkin’ my eyelids for holes.”

You push some curls out of Joel’s face and hold your palm against his cheek, still hot with his fever. He’s so peaceful looking like this, plump lips pouting as he breathes through his mouth. You bring your face close to his and close the gap by pressing a little kiss against his lips. 

“What’re you kissin’ me for, hm?” 

“I want to,” you reply, kissing him again.

“Gonna get yourself sick,” Joel murmurs groggily, eyes still closed. “Which means in a couple days, I get to do all this right back to you. S'payback, darlin’.”

You chuckle. And in just a few short seconds, Joel’s snoring lightly, dead to the world.

If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with thoughts or comment or hop in my inbox! Your kind words go farther than you know in keeping me motivated to write 💕

[felibrary]

╭──╯ DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION !

PAIRING: jiaoqiu x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: how does a healer heal himself when he falls ill? the answer is he doesn't, after all, you're here to take care of him!; alternatively your boyfriend's sick, and despite all his refusals you insist on taking care of him.

WORDCOUNT: 1.2k | CONTENT & WARNINGS: did i play the tb mission yet..no, did i still write this? yes cause i just man idek okay, jiaoqiu might be ooc, banter and bickering and just tooth-rotting fluff (and jiaoqiu rots in bed..literally lol)

TAGS: @azullumi (i hate all of your fans for choosing the blind date one. reject them exes and bring back hanahaki diseases and yearning 🔥🔥)

AUTHORS NOTE: the closed eyes remind me of jouno. jiaoqiu pls dont die. also im trying to be more dialogue-centrish here cause im not familiar with his character yet soooo no metaphors for now

“jiaoqiu, would it kill you to stay in bed for at least once?”

the scent of freshly brewed green tea and aromatic congee slowly fills the air and you lean back against the counter, with your hands on the surface of the kitchen island and a deadpan expression you stare right at your boyfriend who has only woken up now.

an expression that brings no good settles onto jiaoqiu’s face. “do you need help?” jiaoqiu smiles mirthfully and without hearing your answer he swiftly brushes past you. in the blink of an eye, jiaoqiu picks up the kitchen knife lying on the cutting board before expertly chopping the spring onions into thin rings to later sprinkle over the congee.

he cannot be serious right now.

you have to prevent yourself from sighing out loud before grabbing him by the shoulders to make him turn around  “stop being so stubborn and return to bed,” you’re not sure if the reason you’re heating is up due to the congee whose heat is emitting into the air, the close proximity between you and jiaoqiu that makes your heart skip a beat or two, or the fact that jiaoqiu’s sick and is probably spreading his sickness over to you. 

the latter sounds the most reasonable. 

as it seems (and as expected) your demand goes in one (or well two) ears and out of the other one(s). “and since when are you the doctor?” his cheeky tone and the smirk he throws you are both infuriating. “but, i guess i’m lucky to have such a smart and not to mention beautiful partner who cares about my well-being,” he remarks lovingly. 

“you think you can bribe me with sugar-coated words?” as sweet as he might be, you won’t let him off the hook so easily. after all, he also deserves to rest, especially when sick. 

someone who only takes care of others and their well-being but never their own, will meet their demise sooner than those who constantly seek out help, due to never confiding in others when facing hardships.

“i’m simply stating the truth.” he chortles gleefully, tilting his head to the side while doing so.

“what a charmer you are,” you reply dryly before taking a few steps away from him. “anyway, as you’ve already mentioned your oh-so-smart and beautiful partner cares about your well-being, so i ask you to go back to bed, and get your well-deserved rest,” you quickly change the subject.

ironically nothing escapes jiaoqiu’s attentive gaze, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d noticed the rosy tint on your ears by now. but even if that were the case he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to it.

“as much as i appreciate your concern, there’s really no need. i’ve experienced much worse and more severe illnesses. a little fever won’t be the death of me.” jiaoqiu shrugs in simplicity, brushing it off as no big deal.

“you’re such a handful to deal with sometimes,” you mumble under your breath before swiftly pressing your hand onto his forehead and withdrawing it as quickly. “jiaoqiu. you’re literally burning up.” 

you don’t wait for him to respond — you won’t give him the time to respond before reaching down and searching for his hand. his lithe fingers find yours and you carefully lace them together before guiding (dragging) him back to the bedroom and forcing him to lie back down as you crouch at his side.

the wet towel that sits all scrunched up in the plastic bowl right next to his bed seems all wrung out already catches your attention and you sigh. “sorry, that i didn’t come earlier to refresh the water,” jiaoqiu’s ears perk up at your apologetic tone and he smiles. “don’t worry about it.”

“stay here, i’ll get you a new one. don’t move while i’m gone okay? just try to relax a bit.” the only thing you receive as a form of acknowledgment is a quiet hum before rushing off to the bathroom to fill the bowl with new cold water.

you return just as quickly as you left and begin to wring the piece of cloth and fold it into a rectangle before placing it onto jiaoqiu’s forehead. “is this okay?” you ask, carefully brushing the strands of hair that stick to the damp towel away. again, a mere hum is the only answer you receive from him.

as you’re reminded of the green tea and congee that are still in the kitchen you jump up. “right i almost forgot the food, i’ll go and get it. wait here for me.” you turn around and before you can even fully leave the room, a whine of your name makes you turn around.

“can you turn the pillow for me? this side is too warm.” your boyfriend starts to complain and you can’t help but stare (in surprise or irritation, you don’t know — maybe both.) you help your boyfriend up and make him lean against the headboard as he continuously holds the wet towel against his forehead. “here,” you present him and he smiles in satisfaction. 

he settles back into bed you assume he has no more requests thus you decide to leave and reside in the kitchen once more. the aroma of spices fills your nose once more and you can’t help but smile as you take the lid of the pot off before using a ladle to scoop the congee into a bowl. 

you reach for a porcelain cup and pour the green tea into it before placing it on a tray with the congee to bring it to jiaoqiu.

as soon as you enter his room, jiaoqiu’s ears perk up. “i’ve missed you,” he expresses wholeheartedly and that makes your heart melt. it’s these moments where you get reminded how lucky to have him. “so now that you’re back can you turn my pillow around again? this side heated up much faster than anticipated.”

okay so maybe you weren’t that grateful to have him.

you sigh and put the tray down on his (unexpectedly but pleasing) tidy desk, normally it would’ve been filled with a bunch of different notes and recipes for both meals and medicines, but it’s exceptionally organized today. 

once again you help your boyfriend once again by flipping his pillow before grabbing the bowl of congee and handing it to him. upon him not accepting, let alone acknowledging the food before him, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“what? do you want me to feed you next princess?” you scoff and although your remark is sarcastic, jiaoqiu can’t help but smile cheekily. “well if you’re already offeri-” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you shove the metal spoon full of congee into his mouth which slightly catches him off guard and makes him open his eyes for a split second.

although you’ve seen his eyes countless times, you can’t help but admire them. his eyes resemble honey, beautiful and golden but also sickeningly sweet and addicting. “you know you’re so much more beautiful when you shut up for once,” you tease.

Jiaoqiu detaches himself from the spoon and scoffs. “should’ve added black pepper instead of white pepper. you know that i favor intense flavors over mild ones.” he complains and you can’t help but crack a smile. ”stop being a picky eater and eat.”

END NOTE: this has been sitting in my drafts since June 21 LMFAO but yeah here it is!! also does this look proofread to yall cause it really isn't its quite literally 3am and school's starting next week. my sleeping schedule's so fucked up I'm crying. but shoutouts to Grammarly for proofreading tho fawk u for saying i need Grammarly pro to see my other 92 mistakes like okay. in this economy??

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[guiltyasdave]

just close your eyes

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, implied death of a character, the angst is ANGSTING in this one

a/n: once again, i can't thank that jackson joel pedro photo enough for the inspiration that it's brought me. i hurt my own feelings with this chapter, and truth be told, it's gonna get worse from here.

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Over the following days, something of a routine forms between the three of you. 

Joel spends most of his time resting, asleep more often than not, the shape of him on your couch a picture that you grow familiar with. But as his fever goes down and the skin around his injury is less red than when you first laid eyes on it, you allow yourself the tentative hope that you might have been able to actually save him. 

You’re becoming less skittish around him, getting used to his rather gruff demeanor, slowly realizing that what Ellie said was indeed true, it’s not about you. You come to think he just doesn’t like needing and accepting help.

Ellie follows you around like a puppy, eager to soak up every scrap of knowledge that you can share with her. It’s not much, you think, mostly cooking, the task of turning supplies into various meals, given the limited resources that you have in this world. You like having her around, the almost constant stream of chatter and questions never annoying you.

It fills your usual silence, helps keeping you grounded in the present. Most of the time.

Now that you have company, it becomes painfully obvious to you how much time you spend in your head, just sitting and staring straight ahead, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to the time passing. You have taken to having a book open in your lap, to make it seem like you’re reading, but you find yourself looking down at the page without seeing it, not sure when you last turned it. 

It’s not what they would have wanted, you keep telling yourself, trying to shake yourself out of it. Well, it’s not like anything happened the way we wanted, the bitter voice in your head answers.

If Ellie or Joel notice, they don’t ask about it. You hear their voices in the night sometimes, both of them sleeping in your parents’ bedroom now, since the couch was starting to hurt Joel’s back. 

You don’t lock your door anymore, leaving it ajar, just like them. The thought of someone else being down here with you is soothing you, the fear of them being a possible threat basically nonexistent at this point. Instead, a different kind of fear sets in. 

They haven’t talked about where they are going, but you know that they’re not gonna stay forever. Once Joel is completely healed, and winter has given way to spring, they’ll most likely be off again, leaving you on your own again. You don’t want to grow attached, but it’s difficult not to, while being with other constantly. 

You and Joel are taking longer to warm up to each other than you and Ellie have, but you’ve gotten used to having him around you. It’s a quiet, but trustworthy, reassuring thing, his presence in your space. Now that he’s healing, he’s someone who you trust to take responsibility, to take care of things if needed. You’re not sure how you know, but you’re certain that he is.

One evening, Ellie finds the DVD collection that’s stashed away in the cabinet under the small TV in the corner of the room. You hadn’t watched anything in forever, not sure if it’s even still working, but her enthusiasm makes it impossible to turn her down. 

Even Joel pipes up at the prospect of a movie night, crouching down next to her to sift through the DVDs. They’re both drawn to the shitty action movies – usually not your preferred taste, but you find the corners of your mouth lifting when they both turn around simultaneously, looking for your approval of their choice. 

Joel pushes himself back up with a grunt, pressing the button on the TV and making it spring to life without issue. You settle deeper into the couch cushions, pulling a knitted blanket over yourself as you watch the opening credits play. 

It’s so comfortable, so normal, and you want to get lost in the feeling in a way that makes your heart ache. Ellie sits down beside you to share the blanket while Joel stretches his legs out on the other couch. A smile is tugging at his lips when he catches you looking at him, but it can’t hide the wariness in his eyes, mirroring your own. It’s the feeling of things being too good to be true, the fear of nothing good ever lasting, of the world crashing down around you again, that always accompanies you, and without asking, you know that he feels it too. You cast your eyes back to the screen, trying hard not to get yourself lost in the fear, but to enjoy the moments of peace while they last. 

Ellie loves the movie, her eyes wide at every action-packed sequence, gasping at every explosion. At one of the more absurd scenes, you can’t contain the burst of laughter that bubbles up your throat. You’re unexpectedly joined by the deeper rumble of Joel’s, a sound that you haven’t heard before. 

You glance at him, to find his eyes already on you, an emotion in them that you can’t place. Neither of you say a word, both quietly returning your eyes to the TV. 

When you’re lying in bed later that night, you still feel the smile on your face. 

While your closeness with Ellie came quickly, almost taking you by storm, it’s a quiet, slowly growing thing with Joel. 

It begins with him lingering in the kitchen when you’re preparing the morning coffee, asking you questions about the place, about keeping supplies, electricity, the safety measures. He helps you with cooking, grumbling about giving something back when you protest. 

He’s gruff, no comparison to Ellie’s lively chatter and endless questions, and it makes you nervous at first. But you get used to him, his more quiet demeanor, his dry humor. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to scare you again, avoiding sudden movements or getting loud, and while you appreciate it, you also can’t help but wonder how broken you must seem from the outside. 

He doesn’t ask prying questions about your past, how you’ve come to live here all alone, though you have to imagine that he’s curious. You don’t ask him about his either, even if you do wonder how he and Ellie ended up together. It’s a quiet mutual understanding and you’re grateful for it. 

You have to believe that he had his fair share of loss in his own life, that the both of them had; an inescapable reality at this point in the world’s history.

It’s like a silent camaraderie when he catches your eye as Ellie is reading out puns to the both of you once more, rolls his eyes in a way that still holds so much love for the girl next to you, but that fills you with the urge to giggle. It stops you in your tracks the first time it happens, the sensation so unfamiliar to you that you can’t place it for a second. 

When you smile at him, the corners of his mouth rise ever so slightly as well, before he huffs an exaggerated sigh at the joke that you just heard. It riles Ellie up, just like he wanted to, you suspect. But you block out her bickering at him, busy with your own thoughts. One thought in particular, one that you haven’t had about anyone since you were a teenager. 

Joel is kind of pretty when he smiles.

The both of them have also taken to working their way through the bookshelf that’s taking up most of one of the walls. It’s mostly guidebooks on hunting, gardening, self defense, anything that your father deemed possibly useful. Over time, you had added books from your old bedroom, the one upstairs, that you had hastily carried down the stairs, hoping for the familiar words to give you a sense of normalcy in a world where nothing was normal anymore. 

Joel sometimes talks to you about them, asking your opinion on which ones to read, discussing their contents with you. Over time, you realize that he does it when you’re zoning out, pulling you back into reality with the drawl of his low voice next to you. You’re thankful for it, not used to being cared for like this, but also mortified that as it seems, he does notice when you’re too deep inside your head.

It’s one of those afternoons, you’re just about to start preparing dinner, when Ellie asks if you have more books somewhere, about something cool. “Like what?” you reply, an easy smile on your face. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “like comics, maybe? Ohh, or something about space?” 

It takes a moment before the words register, before they form a picture in your mind, the memory of exactly what she’s asking for. You stop in your tracks, frozen on your way to the kitchen. Your toes dig into the carpet beneath your bare feet. A faint trembling starts in your hands and slowly spreads through your body. 

Ellie says your name, an edge in her voice. You’re not sure what your face looks like. 

Your wide eyes find hers, looking up at you from where she was spread out on the floor, her hair splaying out over the scratchy rug, one of your books held over her head. You had joked about how that position couldn’t be comfortable a few minutes ago. 

You see Joel from the corner of your eye, slowly raising to his feet from the couch cushions. It feels like you can’t breathe, like you’re sucking in air but it doesn’t reach your lungs. 

A large, warm hand lands on your shoulder, making you jump. Joel rubs soothing circles over your back, your name a low rumble on his lips. 

“It’s– it’s not a problem if not,” Ellie murmurs, sitting up slowly, her eyes flicking between you and Joel, uncertainty written over her features. 

You force a shuddering breath in, using the sensation of Joel’s hand splayed over your back to ground yourself. Nodding your head, you will your voice to travel up your throat. 

“Yeah no, I– just a second.” 

Joel repeats your name, more questioning this time, but you ignore it, feet carrying you into the bathroom where you quickly shut the door behind you. Skin stretching over your knuckles, you stand over the sink, gripping its edges to stay upright. 

It’s what he would have wanted. He would have been so happy to share them. It’s true, you know what. 

You’re not sure what’s worse. Going in there yourself, crossing the threshold of a room that you haven’t entered in years, haven’t even opened the door to, or letting someone else do it, let them disturb the memory of a reality that you’ve tried to preserve in there. Too painful to touch, but too important to let go of. 

Steeling yourself, you return to the living area. Ellie and Joel are sitting close to each other, both of their heads flying up at the door opening. It’s obvious that they have been talking about you. You bite your lip. 

Ellie rises to her feet slowly, takes a tentative step toward you. “Listen, it’s not that important really–” She sounds like she’s talking to a skittish animal. 

You shake your head, not trusting your voice not to betray you. With a deep breath, you cross the room to the door beside yours. One of two that you keep firmly closed. 

It creaks on its hinges when you open it slowly, your hand shaking on the handle. You try not to look around, to keep your eyes closed to the truth that nothing changed in here, and yet everything changed. It’s stuffy, stagnant air that’s been untouched for too long, but it smells like him. Like he’s still here with you. 

You don’t see the unmade bed, still carrying the trace of the last time he got up, the stuffed lion beside the pillow. Don’t see the half finished drawings on the desk, or the mess of action figures in the corner. You grab the stack of comics from the nightstand, ignoring the way your vision blurs at the edges. Move on to the shelf, smaller than the one in the living room, blindly picking out random books. 

When you step out of the bedroom, quickly pulling the door shut behind you again, neither Joel or Ellie have moved. You can’t meet either one’s gaze, don’t want to see the expression in their eyes.

Ellie takes the stack of books from your outstretched hands, murmuring a thanks, and you sense that there are more words on the tip of her tongue. Questions, apologies, you don’t know and you don’t want to. 

Turning on your heels, you escape into your own room, closing the door as quickly as you can before you collapse on your bed. Tears flood your eyes in time with the memories flooding your head, threatening to pull you under and drown you under their waves. 

You hear their muffled voices through the door, but neither of them comes to disturb you. You’re thankful for it, not needing anyone to witness you in this state. Eventually, you drift off into sleep, your mind gladly giving way to unconsciousness.

The following night is the first time that Joel has to shake you awake from a nightmare.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[sunnie-angel]

A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out

Part 1: Unexpected Faces in Familiar Places

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: jay makes a new friend, now if only she could be something more... tags: sexual harrassment, threats of violence, idiots in love, flirting, swearing, sexual tension, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, fingering rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 4.7k a/n: enjoy! i've been having a really shitty week (even before the election) so i scrapped my original intention to only post once it was fully written and decided to just share this with you all

Jay Todd has the shittiest day to cap off the shittiest week in what feels like forever. Her ribs ache from a hit on Monday that’s still not fully right and she spent most of the day chasing down one of her accountants that had the sheer fucking nerve to try and steal from under her nose. Her knuckles are bloody, she’s on the verge of a stress headache, and all she wants is to drink her goddamn drink in peace. Apparently that’s too much to ask for because she gets a call from Cala down at one of her bars about out of towners harassing the guests and now that just won’t do at all.

Jay bursts into the bar, door hitting the wall with a crash, and oh fuck she forgot her helmet at home so she’s gonna have to do this as Jay, without the weight of the Hood’s legend behind her. Taking a deep breath she squares her shoulders and swaggers in. Zeroes in on the two chucklefucks have that cornered a poor girl sitting at the bar. Notes the way she’s hunched over and pulling down the hem of her skirt to hide her skin from lecherous eyes. Cala buzzes around the scene trying to divert their attention away from poor little miss unlucky but it doesn’t work.

“–m not alone,” Jay hears you say as she strides towards the bar. “I’m waiting on a friend.” 

“That so,” the taller of the two men leer. “Well she can just join us too. Plenty of room for more.” The shorter man makes a crude gesture at his crotch and Jay sees red.

“There you are!” She calls out, shoulders past the men without even acknowledging their presence. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was a real bitch. Did you already order our drinks yet?” You look up at Jay with gratitude and something suspiciously like tears shining in your eyes. Fuck. You’re pretty.

“No I– I didn’t know if you were planning on driving so I just waited,” you play along. 

Jay goes to take the seat next to you but shoulder slams into a body. She turns and raises a single disdainful eyebrow that she knows for a fact has made grown men cower before.

“You’re in my seat,” she says, low and bored. The man’s face starts to go a horrible shade of red that clashes terribly with his hair.

“So you think you can just butt into a private conversation, bitch?” He snarls, spittle flying.

Jay very conspicuously wipes the front of her leather jacket with a bar napkin. Looks him up and down and smirks.

“I think your conversation was over 30 seconds after you opened your mouth. I bet a lot of things are over in 30 seconds with you,” she tells him coolly.

He opens his mouth to respond, vein pulsing in his forehead but the cock of a shotgun stops him. Cala, blessed Cala, had finally had the distraction she needed to grab the shot gun from under the bar and she is using it to maximum effect.

“Out!” She thunders, waving the shotgun in the men’s faces. “Out and don’t you ever come back. This is one of the Hood’s bars, we’re under her protection and there’s gonna be hell to pay for this.”

Enraged the larger one goes to yell back but the shorter one grabs at his shoulder. Whispers at him to look around at all the hostile faces, the other regulars getting to their feet and cracking their knuckles. Tails between their legs the two nuisances scamper out.

Jay nods at Cala and she calls out “Next round’s on the house!” to the cheers of the room.

Job taken care of, Jay goes to leave when a hand around her wrist, just catching her under the hem of her jacket, freezes her in place.

“Wait!” you call. She turns to look at you properly, the wobble of your lip and the shortness of your skirt from where you’re no longer tugging it down. “Please? I just– I’m worried they’ll be waiting outside for me. I was supposed to meet a date here but they bailed on me and now I have to wait for the next bus to come. Would you stay with me for a bit? Please? I’ll– I’ll buy you a drink for the inconvenience.” And well, Jay always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.

“Sure,” she says, slinging herself lazily back into the bar chair. “It’s no inconvenience but I’ll take that drink. Whoever he is, he’s gotta be mad for standing a pretty girl like you up.”

“Oh um,” you fluster at her words. “Thanks?”

Cala sets down Jay’s usual order for when she’s driving in front of her and refills your drink. Waves off your fumbling with your wallet with a “It’s on the house, chérie. Our apology for the bad night. Besides,”  she nods at Jay “the Boss Lady would not let you pay if you tried.”

You grow more flustered at that and Jay rolls her eyes at Cala’s interfering. She lays a hand on your bare forearm to get you to stop tearing the napkin in your hands to shreds.

“You’re not in any trouble honey,” she says, voice low and soothing. “Just needed a little help, that’s all. Now my name’s Jay and I own this little establishment. Why don’t you tell me a little something about yourself too?”

You stutter and start through your own self-introduction, mascara long eyelashes fluttering at all the attention. Jay’s just so goddamned tempted to press her thumb into the hollow underneath your eyes, see if that’s enough to make the gathering tears of relief spill over. Wants to see your puffy bitten lips wrapped around her fingers rather than your straw. Getting you to talk about yourself seems to work though, familiar territory slowly evening you out. You’re surprisingly witty when you’re not flustered, someone fun to have a conversation over beer with. Time just gets away from under you two, Jay too enthralled with the way your hands move as you tell a story, you too drunk under her attention to bother looking at the time.

A stray notification catches your attention, interrupts your story about how this bar wasn’t even in your bottom five. You roll your eyes at the sender name.

“Jerry,” you answer Jay’s inquisitive look. “Apologizing for standing me up, for all the good that’ll do.” With a flourish you tap at your screen, smile and say “Blocked.”

Jay can feel the corners of her eyes crinkle up in return, simple joy and approval for you cutting the trash out of your life. Not that she’s really entitled to an opinion on it. Your smile lasts a half second longer before suddenly descending into panicking, fumbling out your phone and chanting no no no under your breath.

“I missed the last bus,” you breathe out, eyes wide. Jay’s brain stutters at that, there’s no way you’ve been talking together for four hours. Cala catches her eye and jerks her head up at the big clock hanging over the bar. Fuck. It really has been four hours.

Jay knocks back the last of her beer and stands, extends a hand out to you to help you hop off the bar stool that’s just the wrong side of too tall. Even in your heels Jay’s still got quite a few inches on you.

“C’mon,” she says. “It’s my fault you were out so late, I’ll give you a ride home.”

She leads you outside to where her bike is parked, your palm still in hers.

“I don’t have an extra helmet so you just take mine okay?” She says, putting it on you.

“We’re– we’re going on that?” you squeak out, surprise rendering you docile.

“Yep,” she answers, already straddling the bike, thighs flexing. “Hop on and hold on tight.”

Jay more feels than hears your scream as she revs the engine and takes off, corners maybe just a little too fast to be anything other than showing off. Too soon she pulls up at your front door and already she mourns the feeling of your arms wrapped around her middle. She gives you a hand to help you off the bike again and nearly buckles at the brief glimpse of the black unlined lace panties she sees under your skirt as you swing your leg over the bike. The two of you stand there facing each other, moment stretching out until a car backfires a few blocks over.

“Well, I guess I should get going, “ Jay tells you reluctantly.

“I’ve got work in the morning,” you respond, still not moving. “Wait! D’you want my number or something so we can do this again? Not the first bit obviously, but maybe drinks? Maybe coffee next time?”

And Jay, Jay doesn’t really have a phone besides a collection of burners but for you she’ll keep one on her. “Could always use another friend,” she says slowly, hands her phone over to you anyway. Grinning, you see her off into the night, taillights dissolving into darkness.

Jay calls first, asks about coffee with too much casualness in her voice. Your ensuing enthusiasm sets to right the last of her worries that you’d only offered out of obligation and she sets about monopolizing as much of your free time as she can get away with. Takes you to the movies, to museums, to lunch. Lends you her sweater, her umbrella, her helmet. Actually thinks about buying a second one with how much use you’re getting out of hers. Bitches with you about assholes at work – not that she gives you the full story – and bemoaning the state of customer affairs. Makes you dinner at her apartment and makes a spot for herself on your couch. Worms her way into every corner of your life without regret because you’d tell her if her presence was unwanted. Right?

Leave it to Jay to come back from the dead and still fall in love with a straight girl. Dick teases her about how far she’s willing to bend over backwards for ‘just a friend’ and Jay has to show her teeth and snap back that at least she has some. Has to cover up for the fact that her sanity is hanging by a goddamn thread thinner than that single string that had tied the open sides of your top together that one afternoon, revealing bare skin and the hint of a breast if you leaned just right. The way she almost walked into a wall when she realized you weren’t wearing a bra the first time she came over to your place. How she’s come with the image of your tear-stained face, fingers buried in her cunt. It’s fine! Jay’s fine. Eventually she’ll learn to stop lusting over her darling best friend who looks up at Jay with such sweet trusting eyes, unaware of what an awful lecher she is.

A gala invitation has Jay wishing she could shoot lasers with her eyes and incinerate it. Her eye twitches with annoyance and you snatch it up out of her hands before she can stop you.

“Oh what’s this, a party?” you ask, hair falling down the nape of your neck in a way that has Jay itching to brush it aside and kiss your spine.

“A stupid one,” she answers, not really paying attention.

“But you’ll have to get all dressed up for it! Please, please can I come over and watch you get ready? You never get dressed up,” you pout.

Even with your whining and pouting, Jay can’t help but think she’d still have a better time at the gala with you by her side to distract her from pointed glances and whispers. She sighs. Wait.

“There’s a plus one on that invite,” she tells you nonchalantly, studying your face in her peripheral vision. “You could come if you want, get all dressed up too.”

You stiffen at the question. “You really mean it?” you whisper, hardly daring to breathe.

“Course, but only if you want to,” she offers. You squeal, clutch the envelope to your chest and tackle her.

“It’s short so I’ll probably have to rent a dress and oooh I need to think about makeup, maybe a bold lip? Oh! And I can have another excuse to wear the Jimmy Choos...” you babble in her arms.

“You hate the Jimmy Choos,” Jay reminds you. “Always complain they pinch your feet.”

“Duh,” you tell her, pushing yourself up. “But they make my legs look like sex so I’m wearing them.” Jay has to swallow a couple of times at that, lost in the last time you’d worn them out clubbing and dragged her with you. Your legs had looked like sex, miles of long yummy skin only ending at your barely there mini dress. You prance around the room pulling down dishes for dinner and Jay sighs, melts back into the couch cushions as she listens to you chatter a mile a minute about how excited you are.

Jay’s really, really regretting her impulsivity by the time the gala rolls around a few days later. In all her excitement about not going alone for once, she’d forgotten that this meant she’d be going with you. With you, all dolled up and mouth-wateringly gorgeous.

You knock at her door earlier than she’d expected from you when a fancy event is involved and has to do her very best not to drop her jaw on the floor. Gorgeous green silk pools around your breasts in a daring cowl neck, the fabric clinging to your curves, draped to exaggerate them. Skims the plush sides of your hips before falling straight to the floor, a daring slit revealing the warm bare skin of your leg ending in those heaven sent Jimmy Choos. Jay stares, knows she stares for a beat too long but there is quite literally no force on earth that could tear her away. You start to squirm under her attention, still standing half in her doorway.

“That bad, is it?” You laugh self consciously, start to cover your cleavage with your hands. “I knew it was too much.”

“No, no it’s just enough,” she rasps, standing back to let you in. You brush past her so close she can smell your perfume, can tell you’d broken out your special occasions scent in the nice glass bottle. “I just need to fix my tie and do my hair and then we can go.”

“Do you need the tie?” You hum, stepping into her space. Grabbing a hold of one of the loose ends, you tug it out from where it’s tucked under her collar and drape it over the couch. Your fingers come to her throat and slowly undo the buttons there until only a single button or two above her waistcoat remains done up. Satisfied with your work, you spread the material flat under your palms, right over the swell of Jay’s breasts. “I think you look really nice just like this,” you confess to her.

Jay can barely breathe as she says “Fuck the tie, never liked ‘em anyway.” Your slow smile is worth it.

“Can I do your hair too?” You ask shyly.

“Don’t see why not, I was just going to do a ponytail,” Jay shrugs. Delighted you push her down onto the couch and start pulling bobby pins out of your purse. “Wait did you plan this?” She asks.

“A girl should always be prepared for the best outcome,” you tell her primly as you stand behind her and finger comb her riotous hair.

Quickly you separate out a deep side part and Jay memorizes the feeling of your hands in her hair. Hands twisting and pinning, you’re done in only a few minutes, handing her the little mirror out of your clutch to admire your work. Softly Jay touches your work, the way you’ve slicked back one side of her hair and made the waving curly mess look artistic and purposeful.

“Thank you,” she says, making eye contact with you in the mirror. She means it, means it for more than just fixing her hair but for everything else you’ve done since stumbling into her bar and her life all those months ago.

“It’s nothing,” you tell her, hands suddenly occupied with the mechanism of your purse. “We should probably get going, right?”

Jay drives the two of you to the venue in a really nice car you’ve never seen before. She waves away your questions with a tight, “My dad won’t even notice it’s missing.” She parks at the end of the red carpet and the doors haven’t even opened yet but you can already see the camera lights flashing. You look at her, suddenly nervous because you’d vastly underestimated how important this event was. She turns to you and smiles, grips your hand over the car console.

“Hey,” she says, all softness. “Just stick with me and you’ll be fine. I’ll head off the vultures, you just hold onto me and enjoy the canapes, okay?”

You nod, and then suddenly she’s opening up your door, hand extended to help you out. The lights are blinding, flashing so fast the afterburn never gets any time to dissipate. Pasting on a smile you cling to Jay’s strong arm, rock solid even under all her suit layers. Paps shout and scream at you to look their way and you can barely hear them over one another.

Eventually the two of you make it through the front doors of the hotel and you gasp like you’ve been drowning. Rubbing your shoulders Jay moves to cover you, cuts off the private moment from prying eyes that seek and skitter.

“Is it always like that?” You gasp. Fighting to regain your balance.

“Unfortunately,” she says with a rueful smile. “But that’s the worst of it over, now we can really enjoy the night.” Gallantly she offers you her arm and you accept it gratefully, her elbow brushing up against the swell of your breast as you walk.

She introduces you to the night’s hosts – her family – with a whispered apology in your ear. Jay is secretly, privately glad that you don’t notice Dick’s eyes lighting up with interest in you as you come in to view. She’s very careful to stamp that light out with a scowl and pantomiming slitting his throat. He’s all charm and smiles when he’s introduced to you though Jay still stomps on his toes for good measure. She doesn’t know what possesses her to, but she wraps a proprietary arm around the small of your back as she steers you around the room. Helps you to crystal flutes of champagne that make your nose twitch at the carbonation and warns you off the most disgusting canapes.

Jay has just chased down the waiter carrying the mushroom and cheese quiche bites you’d fast declared your favourite when the two of you get roped into a very stilted conversation with some of the fat cats the Waynes are currently trying to drain dry, for charitable reasons of course. She’s tuned out the conversation while she piles all the best looking bites onto a plate for you, horrifically uninterested in whatever Mr. Harold J. Carson, esquire had to say about the Texan economy. She cottons on to something being wrong as your hands tense up around her arm and your laugh gets ever more brittle.

“That’s a very kind offer Mr. Carson–”

“Harold, please,” the great mustached walrus harumphs.

“–Mr. Carson,” you bravely soldier on. “But I’m here on a date and I hope you’re not implying that I’m the type of woman to two-time someone.”

He turns an ugly shade of puce and sputters at the implication, society matrons chuckling behind their glasses at his terrible blunder. Sensing an opportunity, Jay grabs you by the arm and starts leading you away.

“I do think our presence is needed by my family elsewhere,” she says, vowels Diamond District clipped. Her grip around your fingers is strong, tighter than it’s ever been as she leads you down a hallway and into an unused meeting room. Her breaths are coming heavy as she drops your arm like she’s been burned, deposits the plate on the empty table. Jay knows if she speaks now, her voice will shake and she will not have that. FUCK. Fuck, she was supposed to have this under control by now. She’s not your keeper, she’s not gonna stand between you and happiness but fuck it hurts to be used like a ticket into someone else’s bed.

“Jay,” you ask cautiously. “Are you okay? I really wasn’t going to take him up on his offer, I’m telling the truth, promise.”

“Why’d you come with me as a friend when you were already invited as someone’s fucking date?” Jay spits out, unable to contain her jealous anger and pacing to try and burn it off.

“But you invited me,” you answer her, voice trailing off in confusion.

“You just told Mr. Texas Oil Man that you’re here on a date,” Jay says, voice tight and frustrated at having to spell this out for you. “And we–” she gestures sharply at the two of you “–are not on a date.”

Your face falls, voice thin and hurt. “We’re not?” you ask softly.

Jay has to stop pacing because wait what.

“You– you thought this was a date,” she says slowly. “You got all dressed up and wore the heels you hate because you wanted to look good. For me.” You hug yourself tightly and nod, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. “But you don’t even like women?” And it’s less a painful fact she knows now and more of a question. 

“We met because my date stood me up!” you exclaim.

“Yeah, Jerry,” Jay says, not sure where this is going. “Fuck that guy.”

“Gerry short for Geraldine!” you practically howl. “I’ve been practically throwing myself at you ever since, I thought you were just being nice and not saying anything to hurt my feelings,” you yell at her. “I thought– I thought you were finally giving me a chance tonight.” You pant, chest heaving as you reveal this more vulnerable truth.

“Oh,” she says stupidly, suddenly forced to re-contextualize her entire life for the past few months. You dash an angry hand at your tear eyes and turn to go.

“It was my mistake,” you tell her voice thick with emotion.

And fuck. Jay’s not about to let the best thing that ever walked into her life just walk right back out. Not without a fight. Eating up the distance with her longer legs, she reaches out and gently clasps your wrist. Turns you around and pins you the door by it, forces you to look up at her with wide teary eyes.

“Oh sweetheart,” she croons and you shudder. “Bet you’ve been feeling like I’ve been treating your real raw lately.” She cups your face in her hand, smoothes her thumb over the high plain of your cheekbone. “Why don’t you tell me what you were hopin’ for with your one big chance, tell me how tonight was supposed to go.” Jay nuzzles the side of your cheek, inhales the sweat and desperation rolling off your skin.

“We were– we were supposed to dance,” you confess, head falling back against the door. 

“We can still do that,” she says, curling her fingers into your hair and pulling. She grins at your swift inhale.

“We were gonna dance an’ then, then you were gonna take me home.” You breathe out, pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Was that it baby girl?” She asks. “Playing it a little safe for your one night fantasy, weren’t you?” Jay lets go of your wrist to rest her hand on your shoulder, large hand pressing down on your collarbone.

“Was gonna kiss you goodnight,” you whimper, shivers running across your skin. Slowly, so slowly you can make out the ticking seconds hand of the big clock on the wall, Jay leans in and carefully slots her mouth down over yours. Sucks gently on your bottom lip before releasing it with a sigh.

“Like that?” Jay asks. “You were just hoping for a sweet little kiss on the mouth?” Her own breathing is ragged.

“No–o,” you gasp. “Was hoping– was hoping you’d kiss a little lower too.”

Swiftly Jay drops to her knees, so fast she barely recognizes the pain of it. Hooks your leg over her shoulder and starts rucking up your devastating dress to expose your panties. Moaning you scrabble at the door, her hair, anything to keep you upright and balanced. 

“These,” she snarls, then licks a fat stripe across the thin fabric of your black lace panties. “I’ve been dreaming of getting my hands on them since I first saw them.” You shiver, bury your hands into her thick hair for balance.

“They’re my– my lucky date underwear,” you gasp into the air. 

“And you were hoping to get lucky tonight, weren’t you baby girl?” She coos up at you.

Biting your lip, you nod. Jay sets about tearing your underwear to pieces with her teeth. Your thighs tremble around her ears and she slams your hips back down against the door. Spreads your lips open with calloused fingers, presses a light kiss to your clit in greeting before she starts making out with your pussy. You howl and sag, trusting her to take the full weight of you as your knees turn to jelly.

Jay eats you out with enthusiasm and she eats you out with experience. Does this thing with the slick thrusting muscle of her tongue that has you gasping and begging for more. Can feel the heel of your shoe digging into her back, urging her own, begging her to fuck you harder. Spells her own name against your clit, brands her claim on you into your flesh as you wobble and whimper. Slick runs down her face as she grinds her nose into you.

Sucks your clit, hard, just a hint of teeth as she spears you open on a thick finger. Twists and curls it against your slick wet walls, lets herself affectionately get acquainted with your cunt. Scissors you open with two fingers just to watch your head bang back against the door, eyes shut and tears streaming down your face. Sets an uneven rhythm with her fingers and tongue that has you moaning and trying to ride her face for more. Finger fucks you with wet, squelching vigour as you quiver and shake, walls tightening up as you careen towards climax. Starts putting pressure on your rim with a third finger just to tip you over the edge of it all, pleasure making you stupid. Jay bites down at the sensitive inner skin of your thigh and suddenly has to drink down the slick of your second orgasm. So her baby girl likes a little pain with her pleasure, she’ll have to remember that for next time.

Gently, she takes your trembling thigh off her shoulder and places it back onto the ground. Pulls your skirt back down to hide the utter wreckage she’s made of your panties. Jay scrubs at her chin with her hand, then licks down all the sweet remaining slick she finds there. Grins felinely as you moan at the sight.

“Hoping for a little something like that, honey?” She teases.

Vigorously you nod, head bouncing back and forth like a bobblehead, words still fucked out of your brain. She holds out a hand to you – not the one that’s just been buried knuckle deep inside you – and clasps your hand in her own.

“C’mon, let’s go home then,” she tells you airily, leading you back through the maze of the building.

“But what about the party?” you ask, mascara still smeared around your eyes.

“I don’t care,” Jay bites out. “I’m taking you home and I’m fucking you until either I pass out or the sun comes up.”

“Okay,” you say, voice just verging on a whine. “That sounds better, actually.”

“Good,” Jay smirks. “Because it wasn’t a question.”

series masterlist | part 2

[yan-lorkai]

Hi hi! I really like all of your Yandere TWST stuff, but I admit I’m in LOVE with vampire Pom Trio. I wanted to ask how you think the whole trio would react to a sickly/frail darling. Like maybe darling was spooked and nervous to go in based on the rumors of the manor but their “friends” forced them to. Like friends could be their own.y ride, being sick could limit their interactions so they try to please their friends cause they’re lonely, etc. Like I could see Epel becoming such an overprotective big brother, especially if his new sibling is weaker/cuter/smaller than him. Vil could see the hidden beauty behind their weak/sickly form and try to bring out their “true beauty”. While Rook just loves their naive sweet demeanor and how so much of the world seems new to them. Uh! Just the idea seems so good to play with and darling could legit come to care for/love the trio cause while they are yandere and vampires they treat them better than anyone else ever has.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This was so fun and cute ngl, Epel's brotherly instincts really shine here when he realized that Yuu is like he is when he was human. And thank you, the Pometrio au was something I writed on a whim but it's my favorite oneshot so far! I hope you like this!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, vampire stuff y'know, blood sucking, dead corpses, angst, Ace is an asshole here, Reader has a very bad immune system and gets sick easily.

You were standing in front of the abandoned house, staring at it for a few minutes now. Something about its energy was so dark and draining, though the drops of heavy rain were soaking you from head to toe effortlessly. You had to go in now, you are already here, alone and cold, as your friends didn't want to wait for you to have a sudden change of heart and enter with them.

Your friends, mainly Ace and Sebek were excited while Jack tagged along just because, Deuce tried to make them wait for you but all of them were eager to explore the hidden secrets that the old mansion may hold. So they went on without you. Letting you here alone, in the dark, your only company was a sense of discomfort seetling on your bones.

'I'm going to catch a cold', You thought to yourself as your coat was completely soaked and your whole body was trembling.

You could turn around and go away. Or you could enter and search for them. You were certain if they were in your position, they would go away without a single thought, but you felt a bitter taste on your mouth just by considering this option. It didn't seem right.

With a resigned sigh, you went through the rusty gate, running through a long path to get to the door, passing by a garden full of withered flowers. With every step, the sound of your feet crushing the wet grass echoes around you as you huddle under the hood of your coat, trying to shield yourself from the rain that falls incessantly and the cold that seeps into your bones. You just knew that tomorrow you would wake up with a raging fever and a cough that never goes away, your health was so fragile and weak, a simple rain could put you to rest in bed for several days. You try not to think about it too much.

Without a doubt this mansion used to be a beautiful place years ago but now it was downright chilling, even more right now where your imagination can ran free, making appear as the house loomed over you as it was too dark to see anything clearly. The broken windows and peeling paint only proved to you how much time has passed, how not a single human had put their foot here in a long while.

And if someone was here and now, they didn't have any good intention. Abandoned houses were first of all, abandoned, nobody repaired it or took care of it, so it was dangerous to walk through it.

And second, you knew that in houses like this it was common to dispose of bodies or sell drugs, things like that. It was just common sense.

Swallowing hard, you turned the doorknob and entered the mansion, preparing mentally for whatever was going to happen.

Inside, darkness seemed to consume everything it could touch. The frail light came only from the moon and was not enough to see clearly. The hallway was empty so you took to wander around a little, hugging yourself to not get so cold. It was not working as a sneeze left your lips, your throat starting to get rough and dry.

It was so cold, so cold and wet, and dark everywhere. Your eyes got used to it very slowly and sometimes you kept bumping into doors and walls because the light wasn't enough. Though you really thought you heard at least once someone laughing when this happened.

"Gosh, why did I came here?" You thought out loud. Bitterness rising inside you as you remembered how Ace belittled you and forced you to come. All the rude things he said running through your head as you very slowly walked through the maze of decrepit corridors and forgotten rooms, still feeling that something very wrong was about to happen.

If not right now, then later on.

The dim light filtering through the broken windows casted eerie shapes on the decaying walls, and the silence was oppressive, broken only by the creaking of old floorboards beneath your feet and your breathing. The whole place was devoid of life, of happiness, you looked for it in the portrait faces and all of them were seemed so sad and gloomy. Just like you.

Gloomy just like you are, having to deal with your bad immune system almost daily.

"Why didn't I just said no?" You knew why you didn't said no. Ace was one of your only friends, even if he was mean and rude without reason. You didn't want to be alone inside your room anymore, you didn't want to see your mother's worried expression or your father's frown as you got sick and bedridden again.

It was exhausting.

Even convincing them you'll be alright to go out tonight was hard as they were too worried about you.

"It could be worse" You smile even when your legs started hurting from how much you have been walking. Your stamina was always lacking, contrary to other teens you knew.

You got tired pretty quick so this was nothing new.

Feeling your energy dissipating, you call out for them once more, your voice echoing through the halls and then fading away slowly, leaving you behind. "They left me here all alone, didn't they? Well, it is my fault to allow them to drag me here, I suppose."

Then, you hear it: a strange noise echoing through the darkness. It's a faint, ominous sound, like a whisper carried on the wind or a belt being dragged on the floor, sending a shiver down your spine.

You strain your ears, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise but it seems to come from all directions at once, disorienting and unsettling.

"Really guys, you're going to play a prank on me?" You rolled your eyes. "Here of all places?

Certainly it was Ace idea to scare the daylights out of you and honestly it could have worked if you aren't so tired, another sneeze leaving your throat as you started walking again in a random direction. "I'm telling your brother you're being mean again, Ace and Sebek!"

You heard a giggle behind you but when you turned around there was no one there. Then it happened again and again but there was never someone there when you looked. An instinctive fear was growing on the pit of your stomach as you struggled to maintain calm, making excuses to not get scared.

It could be the wind. Or your imagination, maybe.

Or... Or... You didn't know.

You realized then that with each passing moment, the noise was louder, more insistent, it was as if the mansion's walls were alive with some unseen presence, watching you and waiting for a better opportunity to strike, faint smell of something you can't quite name it was on the air.

The wind was howling sofly at your ears, water dripping somewhere above you. Or was it beneath? Your coat was heavy on your shoulders, entirely soaked.

You weren't entirely sure as it was too dark to distinguish anything on the floor. What you did recognized was the sounds coming back.

I always knew I would die but it has to be here?' You looked around.

You were still surronded by doors who lend nowhere and the sound was getting near, taunting your existence as your friends liked to do, joking how you had more time to rest and the only price to pay was taking some meds or go to the hospital.

How it was easy to exist like this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to do next. Should you stay and investigate the source of the noise, or should you ran? Every instinct screams at you to run, to escape this haunted mansion and its unknown horrors. But a part of you don't want to leave now.

You knew so little of the world, you were drawn to the mystery, to the possibility of discovering what lies hidden in the shadows, plus it was still raining outside.

"If there's someone out there, come out." You added after a few seconds, uncertain. "Please?"

You heard a little laugh behind you but this time when you turned around, there was someone there - said someone was so close that you both bumped your heads by how fast you had turned around.

You stumbled back, almost tripping if the stranger hadn't grabbed both of your hands, you were apprehensive but otherwise curious about this strange boy.

"Ouch, look where ya goin!" He grumbled, though there was a little smile in his voice. He laughed again and the sound was soft.

You protested loudly. "You were the one who was standing behind me!"

You meet the boy's gaze with a calm expression, snickering a little at the face he was making. The boy rolled his eyes, seemingly amused by how you didn't reacted at all by his sudden appearance and yet he wasn't in no hurry to introduce himself, letting the seconds go by, instead taking to observe you and the little bandages that adorned your cheek and the little cuts on your fingers.

"Ya alright, kiddo?" He asked after a while. His voice was softer than you could imagine. And there was a special glimmer on his eyes as if he was approaching a wounded, frightened animal.

"I'm fine, thank you," You replied, a little too quickly for it to seem natural as you hid your hands behind your back and straightened your back.

You didn't want to tell him you fell and scrapped yourself just the other day or how your arms were sore because of the injections frequently administered into your veins. You wished to forget this.

But then again, you had no reasons to tell him that, even if his inquisitive eyes searched for something deep inside your soul. "Just a few scratches, nothing serious." You laughed it off, not mentioning the potentially growing fever that seemed to burn your body very slowly.

"I can be a little clumsy sometimes." You lied, averting your eyes from his, a shiver running down your spine as you did so. His eyes, lilac and big, were like two stars staring at you, burning you.

The boy hummed softly, not at all buying your story as his eyes lingered on the bandages that adorned your cheek. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he observed you, as if he was trying to piece together the story behind your injuries.

He was stranger, more than this, you thought, what was he doing here? Why was he here? He didn't looked much older than you, maybe a year or two. And he didn't look dangerous too.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke again, a little awkward and unsure as if he didn't talked much with people his age. "Glad to hear that, the name's Epel by the way." He said, a hint of genuine concern in his tone. "So... What brings you here?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to this stranger. But there was something about him that put you at ease and you found yourself opening up to him more than you had expected. You didn't felt any judgement coming from him, instead he was very warm and friendly enough that he made you forgot about where exactly you two were at that moment.

"It's Halloween. My friends wanted to visit a creepy place, even if I didn't agree to it. Not because I'm afraid, well, I am a little, but because I'm still recovering from a very bad flu. They didn't care about it, though." You answered him, and that made you cringe.

Admitting this out loud - that they didn't cared about you - was a little sad even more because of the things they had called you when you voiced your opinion. "And then, next thing I know they all go in and I'm getting soaked in the rain."

Epel nodded understandingly, a sympathetic smile gracing his lips. "But friends don't force each other into uncomfortable situations, don't call them names and don't hit them either." He stated as if it was obvious then he flicked your forehead.

You flinched, a little groan leaving your throat, not expecting this.

He was right.

And you knew it, of course you knew. But you also didn't want to be alone anymore with your thoughts. If being the scapegoat to Ace's comments and pranks was the price to pay, you found out that you didn't mind at all.

You were used to it by now.

"You don't have to endure this, you don't have to live a life you don't deserve." Epel pondered for a minute, looking at you from head to toe, water still dripping from your heavy coat. "That's what my dads say, anyway. There's a bathroom turning to the left, go dry yourself and I bring you some new clothes."

It was almost comic how you were being lectured by a stranger who didn't knew anything about you but had a little of common sense. But what was more strange was how he knew where to go and even knew where to get some clothes, humming you decided not to voice your suspicious about it and take this opportunity instead.

It would, after all, be easier to run from him in dry clothes if he truly was dangerous.

Not that you'll run that far, a voice in your head told you. But at least I could try, you answered it.

With a hesitant smile, you followed his instruction, turning left and making your way down the corridor to the bathroom. You felt his eyes on you as you walked and that scared you a little but you knew that deep down, he was not a bad person.

Or maybe you were wishing really hard for that to be the truth.

You turned the doorknob and started coughing when the dusty winds slapped your face. The bathroom as any other room was not used for many years now and its age showed. A little light came from a broken window revealing a cracked mirror hanging above a chipping sink and tons of vines still growing over the walls and stretching to the floor. You observed them for a second, in some way this was almost beautiful. You wished you had brought your phone with you. Alas, you didn't.

Your searched for a towel inside the cabinet below the sink and surprisingly enough there was one. A little dusty but it was the only thing you could use. You hanged it on the back of the door and then closed it. The bathroom now was completely dark but this was nothing new, though you didn't really like it how suffocating it could be.

You quickly strip off your wet clothes, shivering in the cold air as you used the fluffy towel to dry your feet and legs, then your torso. Part of you still find this whole situation strange and comical. Maybe you were hallucinating everything? It would not be the first time this happened. And you did spend a while out there in the rain.

As you dry yourself off as best as you can, you couldn't help but wonder about where Ace and the others had gone to. You were separated for a total of ten minutes or that was how long you had counted before giving up and entering the mansion. Could it be that they were in another wing of the mansion? Or did they leave through another exit and left you there?

Honestly you don't even want to know.

Right now, you're just grateful for the warmth of the towel and the promise of dry clothes to come. If this was indeed a dream, then you would feel saddened when you woke up. Epel was the first boy who didn't look at you with pity but with curiosity instead.

He was the first one to be gentle with you rather then offer tips about how to get better soon or how you should suck up and live instead of lamenting that you're sick again.

It was easier to cling to the idea that he was a good, caring boy instead of a total dangerous creep who was wandering around an abandoned mansion.

Moments later, there was a knock on the door and Epel's voice sounded from the other side. "I brought you some clothes," His tone still gentle and reassuring, like an absolute angel. "I hope they fit."

You open the door to find Epel standing there, holding out a bundle of clothes for you. "Thank you," you answered softly, meeting Epel's gaze with a heartfelt smile.

You close the door again, hearing his footsteps moving away while you observed the clothes he brought you, which funnily enough were exactly your size. And were similar to his own. A pair of pants and a really pretty purple coat. It seemed so fluffy and warm.

As you slip into the dry clothes he's provided, you can't help but feel a little curious while you thought about Epel. Who exactly is he and what is he doing in this abandoned mansion with his dads? Why does he seem so familiar with the layout of this place? You might not know a lot about tons of things thanks to your illness and being homeschooled, but you do know that people in abandoned mansions must be here for a reason, usually not a good one.

You're giving him the benefit of the doubt for now, though.

Still you must find your friends and leave soon. This whole game they're playing around is getting boring and you are tired.

Or I could leave alone. You reminded yourself. It's just fair to leave them when they've done the same to me many times before.

Stepping outside the bathroom, you could hear a faint sound. Weak. You couldn't understand what it was though. It was quiet like the wind howling or the house creaking, it was there only for a second before disappearing as if it had never existed. Still a chill went down your spine as if somethine was telling you to run away and don't look back.

"Epel?" You called sofly.

There was no response. The air seemed thicker now and an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach again, remembering the noises from before. Did Epel had a sudden change of heart and was going to reveal he is actually a serial killer?

Or that his dad is the serial killer? Or that someone is a serial killer?

You're watching too many documentaries, that's for sure.

You took a hesitant step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet. The faint sound echoed again, this time closer, but still indistinct. It seemed to be coming from the end of the hallway, the same hallway that you supposed Epel had gone to after you went to the bathroom.

I should probably run away now. You thought.

But then again, you never had time to be curious with how quick you could get sick. You had to find out more, or you were going to regret when you got back home.

The sound became louder, more pronounced. This time, it wasn't like a whisper carried on the breeze, but like thunder that consumes everything within reach. It was unnerving, almost as if the very walls held secrets they were reluctant to divulge. And yet you were persistent enough to try and get your answers.

You followed the sound quietly, hoping that nothing bad had happened. With each step you took, you turned your nose up at the strong smell that permeated that area of the house.

"Epel?" You called out to him once again, this time louder, as soon as you turned the hallway. "Ace? Jack...? Guys?"

A figure came running in your direction and crashed into you, sending you both to the ground, dust raising as you did. The world seemed like a blur, spinning around, your ears tingling. Before you could fully process what had happened, you felt strong arms wrap tightly around your middle, pulling you close.

Instinctively, you tensed, kicking and screaming at whoever was holding you to let go.

Then you heard the familiar voice. "You're alive, thank God."

Relief flooded through you as you recognized Ace's voice, hands still raised to punch him; when you looked up, your relief turned to shock.

Ace was bloodied and bruised, his clothes torn and ragged. His face was a mask of pain and exhaustion, but despite it all, he held onto you with a fierce desperation, as if afraid to let you go. You could see guilt on his eyes, on his frown.

Guilty for how he treated you. Guilty for dragging everyone to this cursed place.

He placed his hand over your mouth and pointed to somewhere behind him with his head. "Vampires. They're real."

A half laugh escaped you. "No, Ace, they aren't."

But as you glanced over his shoulder, you couldn't deny the sublte movement in the darkness, the sense of danger lurking just beyond your sight. For only a second, you thought you saw a pair of lilac eyes and then it disappeared as if it didn't existed.

You remembered Epel. His familiarity with this mansion, how he was walking in the dark as if he could see clearly. You thought about the strange sounds you had been hearing and the bad, metallic smell. Despite your doubts, you could feel fear growing on you, whispering that perhaps there was more to Ace's warning than you were willing to admit.

Before you could think about it, Ace stood up and helped you, looking to the dark that still surround you - the moon hidden behind the clouds, his grip on your hand tight as the darkness only grew.

"I do a lot of dumb shit but there's no way I'm going to pour fake blood on me. You have to trust me on this." He begged you, almost desperately, taking both your hands on his own as he stared at you with pitiful eyes.

But you still couldn't believe him, not yet, there was so many holes on his plot.

What if it was just another prank? Once Ace pretended that he was been chased by a serial killer or something and then laughed when you got worried, being really dismissive and cruel to you. You met his gaze. Could it be true? Could creatures of myth truly walk among us?

No... Yes...? Everything was so confusing.

You met Epel and he didn't seem like a vampire to you. And if he was one, he was a very polite one.

"I doubt it." Is finally your answer. But even you could tell your tone was unsure. "Call Jack, Deuce and Sebek back and let's go home already. My feet hurt."

Ace threw his hands up as a disbelieving laugh escaped him. Dried blood made you wrinkle your nose as he was still close enough for you to catch the scent. Ace paced back and forth for several seconds, like a man convinced of a bad idea but who desires more than anything to pursue it without a second thought.

"You don't understand the gravity of the situation!" He exclaimed, his voice filled with indignation as his hands trembled slightly. "Jack and Sebek are dead. Deuce is missing. They were murdered by that trio of vampires. Why, out of everyone who could have stayed alive, do I end up with the sick and useless burden? The one who can't run? The one who can't do anything? Why did you live while they didn't?"

You felt a lump form in your throat upon hearing Ace's words, laden with pain and frustration. Tears threatened to flood your eyes as the weight of Ace's final words hit you like a punch to the gut, his voice dripping with bitterness and despair.

You felt like a dead weight, a burden only bringing more pain and suffering to those around you. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

Impotence. Sadness. Yes, you knew them well.

You searched for any trace of regret in Ace's eyes, hoping there was something there. But there was nothing, as if the red of his eyes was just a facade for the darkness behind them.

Sometimes he talked before thinking. That was one of those times but this didn't excuse his behavior.

"Well… This sick burden here won't bother you anymore, if you want to run, then run. If you want to escape, then escape, I won't delay you."

Tiny tears finally escaped your eyes, rolling silently down your cheeks as you felt yourself sinking into the darkness of your mind. Burden, burden, burden, being repeated over and over again.

"Oh, Ace, my feet hurt, oh, Ace, you hurt my feelings and now I'm crying like a fucking baby. For fuck's sake, we have no time for this!" He exhaled hard, his frustration palpable in the air.

You took a step back, pulling away from him. Your head was a mess right now, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and thoughts fighting each other. And it was so hot here, unbearably hot.

The weight of Ace's words hanged heavy in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt hurt by his harsh words and the way he had dismissed you so callously. Like he always did, always used to do in front of his friends. You wiped your tears away roughly, feeling a surge of frustration building within you.

With a final, determined glance in his direction, you turned and walked away, a little awkward and feeling really hot all of sudden. Each step bringing shivers down your spine, feeling as if thousands of eyes were staring right at you.

"Fine... I'm going to prove to you that there's nothing there." You pointed to the dark corner. Too tired to care about the possible danger lurking around.

"Wait- get back here!" Ace whisper shouted. Almost desperately.

You paid him no mind, couldn't find the strength to care. If there was a mystical monster then at least you could ask it some questions and you had so many. If there wasn't, you two could go home and reunite with your other friends tomorrow.

"I'm going to count to three and then I'm going to run." Ace warned you.

You were almost there. The air was a little heavy now but you knew it was just fear acting up. Sweet, heavy air that didn't seem to want to reach your lungs. You breathed through your mouth instead, counting the sound of your footsteps and the whistle of the wind.

There was nothing there.

"One." He started, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead and coating his shirt. Fear was visible in his eyes when you turned to face him.

"There's no one here, Ace." You gestured to the dark corner. Though you felt uncomfortable there, you shifted from one foot to another, looking around.

Yep, nothing there. Or so you thought.

Slowly Ace started to move away, still facing the dark you so willingly surrounded yourself. He made a vague gesture for you to follow him, audibly gulping large amounts of saliva, wetting his lips with his tongue.

Is he being serious about this whole vampire thing? You ponder about. The human perception truly was something curious, the mind capable of creating something with so little. Or perhaps this was all a prank? You couldn't quite decide what to think about.

"Tw--"

An unexpected noise sounded behind you interrupting him. Both of you froze, your heart pounding in your chest. Gentle hands settled on your shoulders, drawing you back until you were pressed against someone's chest. All that escaped your lips was a small gasp.

Feeling the cold of the person's body against your back, you couldn't shake off the tremor of fear that ran through your whole body. There was someone behind you, someone you didn't know who they were. You could feel whoever it was breathing, cold air trickling down your neck, a smile on their face as their arms wrapped around your mid. Too tightly.

Slowly turning your head, you found yourself face to face with Epel. As Ace had said, a formidable figure - a vampire. Though he wasn't the same gentle and soft boy you met minutes before, now he was dangerous, and his fangs were exposed, his eyes glinting with an unsettling hunger and yet, playfulness.

Behind him, stood a beautiful man. A long, black coat wavying in the air as he walked out of the shadows, blood dripping from his chin. Unashamed, he licked it, savoring it.

"Why...?" You ask the boy who held you. Tired.

Epel's grip on you tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Why?" He imitated you, his voice a mix of amusement and something darker. "Because I hate people like your friends. They can'tsee anything beyond their limited world vision, everything is so easy to them so they don'tcare about the feelings and thoughts of people like you."

Ace, who had been standing frozen in place, finally found his voice. "w'dya mean? I didn't do shit!"

The beautiful man in the black coat stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Ace. He wiped the remaining blood from his chin with a casual swipe of his thumb. "So you say but you see... The way you talked about your little friend here made my son very mad. You aren't very fond of them, are you?"

"I don't understand," you whispered, looking at Epel. "Why are you doing this? What did Ace do to deserve this?"

Epel's expression softened for a moment, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes before he hardened again. "It's not about what Ace did. It's about what he didn't. He didn't care about you at all, and that much was obvious since he invaded our home. He was joking and telling his friends all your most embarrassing stories to whoever wanted to hear."

He sounded sincere. He sounded sincere and you hated because you believed in him, his breath icy agains your feverish hot skin. "But don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Or him for that matter, but father will."

The man in the black coat chuckled, his laughter sending a chill through the air. "That I will, for he dare enter in my territory, dirtying our portraits and damaging our coffins. And I suppose, insulting your little friend too, Epel."

You could see how Ace wanted to run, to escape the madness that was about to unfold before you, but his legs, like yours, felt like lead. Instead of running, he found himself rooted to the spot and he was shaking like a leaf about to fall to the ground.

His bravado had disappeared.

"Are you trembling, mortal? Are you afraid?" Epel's father hissed, his voice a chilling whisper that slithered into your ears and sent shivers cascading down your spine. His eyes, cold and piercing, bore into Ace's eyes with an intensity that made your breath caught up on your lungs.

The air around you seemed to grow colder, as if his very presence was siphoning away the warmth. "Good," he continued, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "You should be."

At any second now you were about to have a panic attack or faint. Your body was still deciding what to do, really.

Epel's father moved with an elegance that was terrifying in its beauty, each step deliberate, his presence commanding and predatory. Before Ace could even think to react or to run, Vil was on him, faster than a flicker of light. There was no hesitation, no room for escape — the vampire’s hand shot out, slamming Ace against the cold, cracked wall with such force that a strangled gasp tore from his throat.

You froze, helpless, as Vil’s fingers tightened around Ace’s throat, lifting him just high enough that his feet barely scraped the ground. Ace struggled, his nails digging into Vil's hand. It was like watching a wounded animal fight a hawk.

“Is this all?” Vil murmured, his voice as soft and smooth as silk. He had the kind of voice that could calm anyone, his soft german accent coming out. “Is this the best you can do?” He tilted his head regarding Ace with an expression of mock disappointment.

"Indeed, how pitiful." A third voice. You turned around to see Epel’s other dad; another blonde, but this one had savage eyes and a strange smile on his lips.

And he was bloody all over; all over his lips, all over his white shirt. And he didn't care at all about it.

"Tsc, such a messy eater, you are." Vil looked at him with a disgusted stare. The other vampire only smiled.

"Plea-se..." Ace’s breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, but there was no strength left to fight back. The couple turned to face him.

"He is not worthy to be killed by you, mon amour." The smaller blonde said to his lover. The taller one giggled.

You took a step forward, your heart pounding painfully in your chest, but Epel caught your wrist, stopping you. “No,” he whispered, pulling you back gently, his eyes meeting yours with a sorrowful understanding. “It’s already over.”

“But… he’ll die,” you whispered back, tears blurring your vision, your voice barely a choked whimper.

Epel’s grip on you tightened, his expression soft but resolute. “He brought this on himself. Don’t look. You don’t have to see this.”

But you couldn’t tear your gaze away as Vil leaned closer to Ace, his lips brushing against the pulse in his neck.

"Are you hungry?" He asked Rook.

"Je suis satisfait, love." His answer was instantaneous.

Vil nodded. And then, without warning, his fangs sank into Ace’s flesh.

His body jerked violently, his mouth opening in a silent scream as Vil began to drink. The sight was horrifying — watching as Ace's life was drained away, the color fading from his face with each passing second. You felt your knees buckle, but Epel held you steady, his touch the only thing anchoring you as you fought to keep from collapsing.

Vil pulled back after a moment, blood staining his lips, his eyes glowing with an eerie, predatory light. He watched Ace with a detached, almost curious gaze as the boy’s body sagged in his grasp, barely conscious, trembling with the last vestiges of life.

“Such a waste,” Vil murmured, his voice tinged with a faint hint of regret. Then, with a swift, effortless motion, he snapped Ace’s neck.

The sound echoed in the silence, sharp and final, and you flinched, biting back a sob that threatened to escape. Vil released Ace, letting him crumple to the ground in a lifeless heap. He turned back to you and Epel, dabbing at his lips with a handkerchief, his expression once again composed, as if nothing had happened at all.

“There,” He said, his voice calm, almost bored. “One less distraction.”

You trembled, unable to find the words, the sight of Ace’s lifeless body burned into your mind. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you tried to wipe them away, tried to force yourself to breathe. But the weight of what had just happened made it feel impossible.

Epel moved closer, wrapping his arms around you again, his touch gentle as he guided your head to rest against his shoulder. “It’s okay,” He whispered, his voice soft, almost soothing. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

But even with Epel’s arms around you, you felt anything but safe. All you could see was Ace’s pale, lifeless face, the blood staining the ground, and the haunting, satisfied smile that still lingered on Vil’s lips.

“Mon trésor,” Rook murmured, his voice smooth like velvet as he addressed Vil. “You were as breathtaking as ever. Such skill, such grace.” His eyes drifted toward Ace's lifeless form before settling back on Vil with unrestrained admiration. “Tonight we've found so many little treasures. Yet the most interesting is still here.”

Vil sighed softly, shaking his head as he finished wiping the blood from his lips with a cloth. “What is it you want, Rook?” His tone was gentle but tinged with exasperation, as if he were used to indulging Rook's whims.

Rook gestured to you, his eyes alight with excitement. “This one. Look at them. They’ve endured so much yet still remain standing. Such resilience in one so delicate — it is rare, mon amour. I believe they belong with us.”

Vil’s gaze softened as he took in your form - frail, trembling, and clearly unwell, your breath labored. He stepped closer, moving with a kind of grace that seemed almost otherworldly, until he stood directly in front of you.

He reached out, hesitating for just a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and warm despite the chill of his skin. “You’re burning up,” Vil observed, his voice laced with concern. “How long have you been suffering like this?”

You couldn’t find your voice, throat dry and tight, but you managed a small shake of your head, a weak attempt to dismiss his worry. Epel, who still held onto you, answered in your stead, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’ve been like this for a hour or so, Father. They got caught in the rain.”

Vil frowned, his brows knitting together in a way that seemed almost heartbreaking. “You should have come to me sooner, Epel,” He scolded, though his tone remained soft. “You know I would have helped.” He looked back at you, eyes now filled with a gentle determination. “You poor thing. You must’ve endured so much on your own.”

Rook’s eyes gleamed with something akin to pride as he watched Vil’s interaction with you, his smile growing wider. “See, mon amour? I knew you would understand. They need care, guidance. They need us.”

Vil nodded slowly, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. “Yes… they do.” He turned back to you, his expression softer than you’d ever thought possible, even more because he was the killer of your childhood friend.

“I used to be a doctor once,” He confessed, his voice quiet, as though sharing a secret. “And I have not forgotten the duty I took upon myself to care for those who needed me.”

You felt your eyes welling up with tears, unable to fully comprehend the kindness he was showing you. “You… you don’t have to…” you tried to protest, but the words died in your throat, the exhaustion and fever taking their toll.

“Hush,” Vil murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was achingly tender. “You’ve fought enough for one day. Let us take care of you now.” He glanced at Epel, who had been watching everything with wide, hopeful eyes. "Epel, go and prepare some chamomile tea, Rook, you wouldn't have a tonic for the fever, would you?"

Rook beamed, clearly delighted by how things were unfolding. “Ah, how wonderful! Our family grows once more!” He reached out to help steady you, his touch light, as though afraid you might break. “I don't have any remedy with me now, mon roi but I can go and brought more.”

Epel’s face lit up, and he quickly nodded, disappearing among the shadows and leaving you alone with them. These mythological creatures, killers. And also your helpers.

This moment never came.

"Then go, we'll be waiting" Vil said to his lover, depositing a small kiss on his forehead before he disappeared into the shadows and the darkness.

"We'll then, this way, little one." Vil's hand never left your shoulder as he guided you slowly through the corridors - you were skittish, preparing yourself for the moment where he would attack you, that he would kill you.

Vil’s grip remained firm but gentle, his touch more reassuring than restrictive. He led you through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor, a stark contrast to the loud, frantic beating of your heart.

You flinched at every shadow that flickered in the candlelight, expecting at any moment for him to bare his fangs, to reveal that this kindness had been nothing more than a cruel joke. But that moment also never came.

Instead, Vil paused at a doorway, pushing it open with a smooth motion and revealing a warmly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and lavender, and you caught sight of a large, comfortable coffin piled high with soft blankets.

“You’ll rest here,” Vil said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He guided you over to the coffin - his coffin, carefully easing you down onto the mattress. As you sank into the softness, a sigh of relief escaped your lips, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had been clawing at you.

“But… why?” The question slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why are you being so kind to me? Why won't you kill me?”

Vil’s eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw a trace of something warmer beneath the icy exterior—a hint of sadness, perhaps even empathy. “Because you deserve it,” He answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve suffered enough, haven’t you?”

You blinked up at him, struggling to process his words, to believe that someone like him — a vampire, a predator, a killer— could possess such tenderness. “But I’m just… I’m just a burden,” you murmured, your voice cracking with the weight of your insecurities.

Vil’s expression hardened, and he crouched down in front of you, bringing himself to your eye level. “No one in my care will ever be a burden,” He said firmly, and there was an intensity in his gaze that made you believe him, even if only for a moment. “You have worth, little one. More than you know and more that you're capable to see right now.”

Epel entered the room then, carrying a tray laden with steaming cups and small vials filled with colorful liquids. “Father, I’ve brought some tea.”

Vil stood, taking the tray from his son and placing it on the bedside table. “Drink,” He instructed, holding out one of the cups to you. “It will help.”

Your hands trembled as you reached for it, but Vil’s steadying grip enveloped yours, guiding the cup to your lips. The warmth spread through you, soothing the chill that had taken residence in your bones, and you couldn’t help but sigh as the tension slowly began to melt away.

"Don't make such a long face, darling," Vil reprimanded you, his fingers smoothing down the traces of worry and tiredness.

"I just... You know you are my friend's killer, right? I don't know how to react to that." You were sincere, avoiding his piercing gaze as you observed the porcelain and the drawings from his cup.

"We kill to survive, not for pleasure or entertainment, I can see how things may be from your point of view but you don't have to worry." He sighed, looking back at his son, Vil could see that he had grown quite attached to you. And the sight made him quite warm.

Epel was a terribly lone child in his opinion, and it would do wonders for him if he had a younger sibling.

"What will happen to me?" You dare ask him the question that made you scared. His hand found yours and he squeezed it gently.

"I will take care of you," He told you. Vil’s lips quirked up into the faintest of smiles. “Do you want to lie down now or wait for Rook to return with your medicine?” He turned his attention back to you, his eyes softer than before, and you answered him by letting your body fall into the coffin. “I see, well, rest now. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe those words, to let your guard down, even just a little. As your eyelids grew heavy and sleep began to pull you under, the fever subsiding slowly, you felt Vil's hand slide into yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a comforting gesture.

“You’re safe now,” He whispered, and with that, you let the darkness take you, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the warmth of their kindness.

Things may have not been ideal but they weren't that bad - for you, that is.

[acewritesfics]

Her Father's Eyes | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: former friends. Mentions of drunken one night stand, tough decisions were made.

Word Count: 1,876

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST | TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

"Mabel, sweetheart, please slow down," Y/N calls after her three-year-old daughter as she runs away from her and towards the spot where they sit by the pond.  

"Picnic! Mummy! Picnic!" The toddler cheers but comes to a halt as she notices someone in their spot. 

Noticing the familiar faces surrounded by a brood of children, she adjusts the basket and blanket in her arms and takes Mabel's hand leading her to another area of the park. "Let's go find another place to sit." 

Arriving under a tree, Y/N lets go of Mabel's and sets the picnic basket on the ground. Unfolding the blanket, she lays it out on the ground and places the blanket on it before walking over to her daughter and lifting her up to place her on the blanket. 

Y/N takes out a handful of the toys she's brought with them. Mabel has a doll and a wooden horse with her that she will not leave the house without. She sits down and arranges the toys in front of Mabel. "Here you go, my love." 

"Thank you, mummy." 

"You're welcome," she smiles lovingly at her daughter, watching her play. 

The little girl bears hardly any resemblance to her. She is convinced that Mabel looks more like her father with dark hair, button nose, pouted lips and vibrant blue eyes. Those same blue eyes were one of the reasons she was hesitant to return to Small Heath. People would know with only one look at Mabel, who she belonged too. 

"Is that really you, Y/N L/N?" 

Looking up from her daughter, Y/N saw Ada standing there, clutching Karl's hand, a stunned expression on her face. She didn't believe the lone girl among the Shelby siblings would see her from where she was. 

"Ada, it's good to see you again," she says as she rises to her feet. She's immediately drawn in for a hug. "What are you doing in Small Heath? Last I heard, you were done with this place." 

"The same goes for you. I'm back for a little visit. I thought Karl would enjoy spending time with his cousins," Ada explains. "How about you? Polly told me you moved to Norwich be closer to your sister." 

"I returned a month ago to care for my mother," she says solemnly. "She became ill with a fever." 

"How is she doing?" Ada inquires. 

"She passed away 10 days ago," she replies, sadly.  

"I'm truly sorry, Y/N. She was a wonderful lady" Ada expresses her condolences. The young woman hadn't seen Y/N's mother in a long time. 

"Look, Mummy!" Mabel's enthusiastic shout cut her conversation with Ada short. She turns to the small girl who's pointing to the duck and ducklings swimming in the pond. Mabel's favourite animal, along with horses, happens to be ducks. She is completely enamoured with them. "Duckies!" 

"They're duckies," she gasps feigning excitement as she kneels back on the blanket next to her. 

"My goodness, who is this lovely little thing?" Ada asks, kneeling down to Mabel's level. When she takes a good look at the girl who looks so much like her father, she tries to hide her surprise. 

"This is Mabel, my daughter," she introduces them. "Mabel, love, this is mummy's old friend Ada and her son Karl." 

"It's lovely to meet you, Mabel," Ada smiles and holds her hand out towards Mabel. Mabel places her much smaller hand in hers and shakes it. "Karl, why don't you play with Mabel while mummy and Y/N have a little chat," Ada instructs her son as she encourages him to sit with Mabel.  

Karl nods and sits beside Mabel as she shows him her doll and wooden horse and instructs him on how to play with them. She has no idea they are related, but she is already ordering him about. She is, after all, her father's daughter. 

"Karl is growing into a handsome young man," Y/N watches the children. She last saw him during Freddie's funeral. If she remembered correctly, Karl was about two years old at the time. A few months later, she became pregnant with Mabel. 

Glancing to Ada when she doesn't say anything, she sees that her old friend's lips are pursed, eyes slightly squinted and is thinking hard about something as she watches Mabel. 

"She is beautiful Y/N," Ada finally says, having finished pondering her thoughts. "Is her father around?" 

"No..." she admits looking down at her hands resting in her lap, thinking of how her daughter was conceived during a drunken night of passion. "No, he's not around." 

"Does he know?" Ada continues to question her. Y/N goes to answer but Ada cuts her off before she can get a word out. "Of course he doesn't, other wise you'd be wearing his ring and using his last name. Does she have his last name?" 

Y/N nods. "Her name is Mabel Evelyn Shelby."  

"Will you tell him?" she asks. 

"When the time is right," she sighs knowing it was inevitable now that she was back in Small Heath. The whispers could already be heard. Whether Tommy heard them or not, she didn't know.  

"Are you living in your mum's house?" Ada asks, looking as though she's thinking up something. 

She looks at her suspiciously. "We are." 

"Well then, I'll drop by tomorrow and give you my address and telephone number that way you can call me and come visit when you're in London," Ada says as she stands to her feet. "I would love for Karl to get to know his cousin." 

"So would I," Y/N agrees, also standing to her feet.  

Ada draws her in for another hug. When she lets go, she turns to the children. "Karl, it's time to go, sweetheart. Say goodbye to Mabel." 

Y/N smiles when Karl mumbles a goodbye to his cousin. Mabel in return gives him a quick hug.  

"That she doesn't get from her father," Ada quips as Karl walks over to her.  

"I don't know. Tommy could be pretty affectionate when we were kids," she giggles thinking of how different Tommy was when they were growing up. 

Later that night, when Mabel had finally drifted off to sleep, Y/N kisses her daughter's head, whispering sweet dreams to her before leaving her bedroom.  

She moves into the kitchen and is about to start on the dishes when there is a knock on the door. She wipes her hands on the dish cloth and makes her way to the front door.  

Swinging the door open, she’s startled to find Tommy standing there, a cigarette hanging from his perfect lips and an unsure look in those eyes he shares with his daughter.  

“Tommy,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper but Tommy hears it. 

“I know it’s late, but can I come in,” he asks, his smooth voice sounds uncertain, which isn’t what you heard often when he speaks.  

She nods, moving out of the doorway to let him in. Once he’s inside, she closes the door and turns around to face him. She’s unable to look at him as she anxiously messes with the hem of her blouse.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, his voice going from unsure, to frustrated and impatient.  

“Tell you what?” She asks, playing ignorant. 

He frowns, “Do you think I’m daft?” 

“Not at all,” she answers. Tommy had always been a smart one, even when he was being stupid.  

“Then why didn’t you fucking tell me I have a daughter?” 

“Because I knew as soon as you found out you’d have us married and playing house while you were still in love with that traitor.” 

“I didn’t love her, she was a distraction from you,” he admits. 

“That’s lovely, ain’t it?” She says sarcastically. “The boy I grew up loving, fucked a traitorous spy so he could distract himself from me.” 

“Didn’t work though, did it?” He scoffs. 

“Did you come here to argue about our past or ask about Mabel?” She questions him, her own patience wearing thin. 

“Her names Mabel?” He asks. “After your grandmother.” 

She nods remembering the woman she named her daughter after. Her grandma Mabel was the sweetest woman anyone would ever meet. She was always baking something sweet to hand out to the neighbourhood kids, crocheting blankets for expecting mothers and visiting the hospital to read to the sick children. Everybody loved her and she loved everyone. 

“What’s the real reason you didn’t tell me about her?” he asks, less heated then a minute ago. 

“I wanted to keep her safe,” she tells him, truthfully.  

“I can keep her safe.” 

“Can you though?” She questions him. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom, I am proud of how far you’ve taken the Shelby name. But as you’ve climbed the ladder, you’ve made enemies. Some of those enemies won’t hesitate to use her, a sweet and innocent little girl, against you and I couldn’t have that.” 

“I want to see her,” he quietly demands. 

“She’s asleep in bed,” she tells him. “Just don’t wake her.” She leads him to Mabel’s bedroom.  

The door creaks as she pushes it open and walks into the room ahead of him. She watches him as he stares down at the little girl curled up in her bed, clutching her doll to her chest as soft snores emanate from her.  

“She looks like you,” Tommy says softly as he looks down at the little girl with astonishment.  

Y/N let’s out a chuckle, “I think she looks like you. Wait until she opens those pretty blue eyes of hers. She’s all you, Tommy.” 

Watching his little girl sleep, brings a calmness to him and an understanding of why she did it. He would go to any lengths to protect her now knowing that she’s his, just like Y/N had gone to hers. “I understand why you didn’t tell me.” 

“I should have told you,” she starts her apology. “I’m sorry I never told you. Just know it wasn’t an easy decision and it broke my heart to do it but I had to keep her safe. You have every right to be angry with me and to hate me.” 

“Don’t leave again,” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes never moving from his daughter. “Don’t take her away again. Let me be here for her and you. Let me take care of the both of you.” 

“We’re not going anywhere, Tom,” she tells him moving to stand closer to him as she also admires there little girl. “I know you can protect her and keep her safe.” 

“And you,” he adds. “I can keep you safe and protected too.” 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she tells him. 

“But I do,” he says before adding, “I always have. Even more so now that we’re going to be a family.” 

“So, now you want to marry me?” She quips and leads him back out of the room so they don’t wake Mabel. 

“I should have married you years ago,” he admits as they move into the kitchen, where Y/N makes them a cup of tea. 

All through the night, the two parents talk about Mabel, Y/N filling him on everything he’s missed and Tommy learning everything he can about his daughter.  

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @star-ggirl - @iceman-kazansky - @alexxavicry - @galactict3a - @crispynutella - @il0vebeingdelulu - @nicole-19s-world - @yeppaweshallsee

Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes your blog will be linked after posted but I don't think you get the notification. You'll have to let me know and I'll change it from bold to normal. Tags have been weird lately. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

[joannasteez]

shameful

pairing: roman reigns x reader warning: explicit content. minors pls dni. not degradation or praise, but a secret third thing i have yet to figure out. infidelity! post summerslam return! authors note: i don't know what this is and i wrote it.. so yeah. enjoy?! let me know what you think. love to hear thoughts/opinions etc word count: 1100 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @kill-the-artiste @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @empressdede @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @2-muchsauce

that 'not enough" feeling. a fullness not quite reached. forever on the edge. the heat over his skin, vicious and damp as it breaks. rough grunts and the sure stroke of his hips. like torture resting in his belly. twisted and holding. waiting to burst, to release. almost. palpable enough to taste. throbbing down his spine. needy little moans breathing against his tongue and the delicious pull of your pussy. an encore. from cheery, fevered cries to the play of these little delicate ones, sweetening his ears, his blood. almost. belly tight. burning. fingers curling the sheets. digging. groaning. 

a hot, terrible breath bursts into your neck. frustration unruly. 

you thumb away those loose hairs sticking to him. dizzy, pretty eyes pulling away from their pleasure for a moment to take him in. your lips hot against him. kiss swollen and dangerous. "whats wrong?" sweeping over his cheek. 

his tongue feels dirty. folds over as he speaks with a griminess not yet recognized. "none of this bother's you, does it?" words trying against the air. 

you laugh. head tipping against the sheets. devious and full. moaning into that richness of amusement. kissing his lips and curling your hips into him. a shift that pulls him in deeper. urges him to nestle and groan. almost. rattled enough with pleasure but never enough for that faithful breaking. "m'being serious", he roughs. feeding in gently, a tender little go that steeps him in and keeps him clutched tightly. your body trembling and receiving. always so easy to receive him.

you smile. mouth faint over his skin. over his beard and the apple of his cheek. along his neck, skimming and breathy. fingers in his hair and a whimper delighting just where his pulse living. your tongue warm, peaking to lick and curl. playful. taunting. "would you fuck me harder if i gave you a little resistance?" your palms smooth, at his nape, over his back. slipping against damp, hot skin. smiling into his neck. "i play up the guilt, cry about how we shouldn't do this and how awful i feel, leaving my man all alone to lick his little wounds while you fuck me. that'll make you give me more huh?" an urge to shift his hips, rutting short and sloppy. cock stirring up at your words. 

his thumb hooks under the bend in your leg. settling his knees to nail into the bed a little better, taut and strong and holding you hostage under him. open and easy. neck craning to chase your lips. to cease that awful flow of truth better felt when it goes unsaid. because he did love it. that damning streak of possession that comes with a chase. a cat and his deceptive little mouse. your tone disgustingly sweet, lips wet, charming. "you want it a little more wrong baby?" you purr. rolling your hips to grind at his dick. "it's only a win if you're the only one smiling right? nobody gets their fun but you..." 

roman's fingers fill with fire. an ache he can't stand that blooms fierce. uneven breaths and that almost ready to burst coil in his belly. your neck warm as he squeezes. a tremble rippling thereafter. like your body was made to follow him. 

"...thats how it works huh?, that's why you got your hotel room so close to his..."

"...you love the idea of this shit..."

tighter. thumb pressing in to restrict your throat. a sloppy dazed go of wet strokes. the messy noise of it burning his ears red. a bright heat that flushes his face. 

"...love the idea of him hearing me, finding me..."

"...that shit makes you feel so good..."

a moan with the strike of words. talking yourself to the brink of that beautiful great bursting. whimpers clear and pitchy. that sticky slick of arousal easing him in, easing him to bury deep. a tingle in the heels of his toes, rushing to the crown of his head. 

you smile. eyes dim and dazed still. fingers quick to rub your swollen clit. the lewd song of it good to him. his eyes casting against it. to watch you flutter and perform desperate for release. 

"you want me to pretend for you?" 

"fuck", roman cuts. setting his hips to give a delicious little grind against your walls. the thick tip of him nudging, filling you to the hilt. deep enough that your body attempts to curl. attempts to close in from too much pleasure. a drawl of trembly little moan leaving him. stuttered and overworked. cock stiff and throbbing and digging for something beyond that almost feeling. 

"does that make my pussy feel better? if i feel a little more shameful, a little less eager?" 

he lowers. laps his tongue against yours. slips into a kiss. lips meshing to pull apart slow. 

"you puttin words in my mouth", he rumbles. 

"...but its what you want. punishment. you want him broken..."

a flare in his chest. eagerness. blinding and resolute. his pace focusing. deft and steady. a method found after the burning pour out of a truth left unsaid. because it felt better to claim you like this. to war and win against the convictions of a sobered morality. drunk now off the pleasure seeping from your body. your legs spread and your pussy wet for him. split open to take him deep. his body thick and consuming. but he needed you to play the game. to give in slowly. be coy and pretty and delicate for him. because the challenge, the chase of it made that burn, that release, a delight better than anything ever felt. better than the beautiful onslaught of a cheering crowd, or the feel of the belt about his waist. 

"call him".

his breath hitching. hips stuttering. surprise binding to his bones. 

"what?", his fair falling everywhere. sticking to the confusion along his face. 

"get my phone".

he shifts without notice. snatches your phone off the hotel night stand. your breaths heavy, fingers slipping with a shake against the screen. 

you set it down. a call to his cousin that twists his gut mean. a terrible excitement. the call clicking short, proving an answer on the other end.

you push. nudge his heavy body over till he's laying out along the sheets. his fingers gripping your skin to rough you along. stirring to throb again. slotting against the soft wet take of your body. skin damp and sticky and smacking lewd as he makes to shift your hips to fuck against him. his palm, a short whip through the air till it lays at your thigh. "roman...", you give. gasping and wispy and delicate. face done up with a horribly sweet show of guilt. lips bitten by your teeth and your eyes prickling wet. a performance that settles him into a renewed eagerness. pleasure rife and coursing about him well. moving fast away from that almost feeling...

"louder baby", he roughs. "let him hear you". 

[sammyofold]

Here are those fic recs I promised you @incesthemes ! I hope there's some in there that you'll really enjoy <3 I split up the recs into overarching tropes to group some together, but I'll start with those that don't fit into any of the groups.

The list got a bit long, so I decided to split it up into two parts.

(Part 1 | Part 2)

Courting Death by theproblematique.

Summary: Sam Winchester lived the first six months of his life in a happy family; the next twelve years as John Winchester's only son, and the last decade as an orphan. He's supposed to die at twenty-two trying to save the woman he loves from a fire, because he doesn't have a brother to pull him back. But the night Sam meets his Reaper he discovers that Death is overly fond of pop-culture references, too beautiful to be real, and reluctant to kill him.

Servant of Servants 'verse by klove0511.

This is a two-part series (though I think it might've been intended to have more fics, its ending doesn't leave you feeling snubbed), posing the question: "what if it had been Sam who'd been mortally wounded at the end of Season 1?"

love potion no. 9 by according2thelore.

Summary: Dean drinks a love potion. Sam is falling apart at the seams because he's been in love with his brother for more than a decade.

keep me in a daydream by according2thelore.

Summary: After an accidental kiss makes a hunt go suspiciously well, Sam and Dean decide to try it again. And again. And again. It's no different from wearing lucky socks, right? A 5 + 1.

for you and me (i got no alibi) by remy.

Summary: There are people hitting on Sam wherever he goes, and Dean is doing weird things like holding doors open for him and touching him way more than is necessary, and it's all driving Sam up the wall. It doesn't help that he's been in love with Dean for just about forever, and all of it feels like a mockery of something he'll never get to have. Meanwhile, Dean is at his wits' end trying to figure out how he can make Sam realize that he is, in fact, trying to get into his pants.

Ben Has Two Dads by regala_electra.

Summary: When Ben turns thirteen and learns that Dean Winchester is his father, he runs away to join his father (and uncle). A tale where boys are boys, Vikings are Vikings, unicorns go to Candy Mountains, Dean and Sam are in big gay love, and Ben becomes a Winchester.

Last Temptation by merle_p.

Summary: Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

Five Times Dean Forgot and One Time He Remembered by elsi.

Summary: Rowena warned him the obliviate curse might have “aftershocks.” That Dean could relapse to his amnesiac state without warning—though only temporarily, she assured. But this? This goes beyond calling a lamp a “light stick.”

Whatever It Is by theproblematique.

Summary: Both Sam and Dean get sent to the year 2014.

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life, Too) by TeacupUnicorn.

Summary: Sam and Dean get handcuffed together during a hunt. With a werewolf on their tail and a proximity to each other they haven’t had since they were kids, their unstable relationship is put to the test and their trust in each other is pushed to the limit. Set sometime after 5x16 and before 5x20.

Not Her Sam by Yuval25.

Summary: Future Dean goes back in time to change the future and saves Jess. Future Sam tags along unexpectedly. And Jess is okay. No, seriously. She's fine.

Mistaken For a Couple

101 - mythology by ani_coolgirl.

Summary: As Sam, Dean, and Kali flee Lucifer's slaughter, Kali makes an assumption. The boys try to clear up any misconceptions. They don't do a very good job.

I need you so much closer by cherryvanilla.

Summary: five times they're mistaken for a couple plus one time they actually are.

Domesticity

Paisley by samsexualdeancurious.

Summary: After his mind wall was broken and was healed, Sam knows he can’t be a hunter anymore, so he and Dean retire, and Sam ends up finding a homeless dog who was abused and together they heal.

The Chicago Verse by compo67.

This is a series spanning a whopping 169 fics. I've read only a few of them and I enjoyed Sam and Dean retiring in this town together. It's still updating, looks like, since the latest fic added was in May of this year.

a few things worth saying by hathfrozen.

Summary: “So this morning,” Dean ventures as they blast down the highway in pitch black night toward a probable werewolf case. Sam looks over at him, thin eyebrows raised, eyes clear and calm. He’s not even difficult about it, doesn’t ask what Dean is after, doesn’t deny what had happened. Instead he says, very simply, “I just figure, why lie?” Alright then.

All The Way In by hunters_retreat.

Summary: Sam never did know how exactly it happened. One day, he and Dean were run ragged, exhausted from yet another disaster of a hunt, no money and no gas, no prospects and no allies left alive to give them a hand. The next, they owned a store with a shooting range and Sam was a professor of religious studies at a local community college.

Pre-Series & Season 1

To Blow Against the Wind by dreamlittleyo.

Summary: After Oasis Plains, Sam and Dean can't. Stop. Touching each other.

Star-Crossed by Agent_Hellcat.

Summary: Before Sam departs for Stanford, he writes a letter to Dean, begging him to come to Palo Alto with him.

Birthday Suit by wincestation.

Summary: On the morning of Dean’s eighteenth birthday, Dad takes him to buy a suit. Sam is… interested.

house song by according2thelore.

Summary: “The werewolf.” Sam says, quick. Hushed. Scared. “I don’t know how. I was—He was standing above you and then he wasn’t. And I think I did that.” Dean keeps whispering stuff to Sam, banal reassurances that Sam soaks up like a sponge, but he feels sick. Sammy did something impossible. Sammy’s been doing impossible things. For years. Or: Pre-Canon/Teen!chesters AU in which Sam develops powers at age eleven, Dean will do anything to protect him, and they have to live with the consequences

Outsider POV

What I've Done by Amoreanonyname.

Summary: He wasn’t going to say anything more about it. He could tell, Dean was happy to see him, but wasn’t going to humor this topic. Dean, young Dean would jump to obey John, to answer John’s questions, but this was an older Dean who was more loyal to someone else now. More loyal to his brother. John wasn’t the priority here, and he realized with another guilty jump in his stomach that he never should have been.

something you love and understand by monsterq.

Summary: In heaven, Mary makes an unwelcome discovery about her sons’ relationship.

a skeleton terribly restless by remy.

Summary: Mary knows she doesn't fit right in this strange new world she's woken up in, with these grown men masquerading as her sons, but she tries her best. She really does. She closes her eyes to all the things she does not want to see, and she lies to herself until she's convinced. Until she can't.

Flowers on the Window Sill by orphan_account.

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester's relationship as observed by the good people of Star's Hollow.

Soulmates

Fix You by non_tiembo_mala.

Summary: After their encounter with Famine, the boys are in dire straits. With Dean left shaken by the horseman's taunts - which rang truer than he'd like to admit - and Sam juiced up on demon blood again, Dean is at a loss. He has no idea how to move forward, or where they're meant to go from here. Then again, they’ve always had each other - perhaps their salvation isn't as far away as it seems.

All Too Familiar by sammichgirl.

Summary: Sam's new hobby has consequences they never saw coming. Turns out, that's OK with Dean after all.

What We Do by BleedingInk.

Summary: Castiel catches Sam and Dean in a compromising position.

since feeling is first by queenklu.

Summary: That he wants to think this is Dean yanking a leash should make his blood run cold, not aching hot. It should make him sick, angry, it should get his fucking hackles up and make him fight. He does want to fight. But there’s a skin-thin line between primal things, and fighting isn’t all he wants to do.

if the dam breaks open many years too soon by deirde_c.

Summary: Sam’s soul springs a leak, and Dean’s the one who can repair it.

In the beached margin of the sea by rivers_bend.

Summary: Sam and Dean black out on a hunt, and when they wake up, Dean's having visions and Sam can't get new, strange feelings out of his head. When John finds out about the side effects, he'll do anything to get rid of the "curse". But Sam and Dean don't want to go back to the way things were before.

I Don't Need A Symbol by amoreanonyname.

Summary: It hadn’t meant that much to Sam at first. A warm glow at being able to do something nice for Dean, to give him something for once, to make him as happy as he seemed when he put it on immediately. It was what it meant to Dean that made it mean something else to Sam.

[crxshed-skxlls]

hey, i'm new to your work but it's really good :3

could i have ej x male reader where jack is going through a demon heat? i'm a slut for those types of fics /lh

if something like this has already been asked you can ignore

have a good day/night!

Of course anon, your sin is my command ;]

— ❝ Fever Dreams

Eyeless Jack x Male!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Plot: Jack goes through a heat cycle and you seem to be the only person he trusts to help him

NSFW TAGS: Teratophilia/monster fucking, fingering, love bites/marks, light blood play, mentions of aftercare, praise kink

You and Jack weren’t necessarily close at the time, but you could tell something was off. He was a reserved introvert, usually sticking to himself or his medical bay. Though lately he hadn’t been showing up in his medical office, so you decided to check up on him when you could. Knock, knock, knocking at his door earns a soft growl from inside; making you somewhat concerned. “Jack?” You call out, your sweet voice ringing out in the empty hallways. Jack soon sluggishly walks to his door, the handle slowly and deliberately turning before you are greeted to a somewhat cracked open door and familiar soulless orbs staring back at you.

“What do you want?” His voice is a low growl, gruff and mysterious. You can tell that something was wrong with the way Jack’s breathing is shallow; seeming unfocused or delirious. You purse your lips before opening them to speak.  “Are you okay? I wanted to check in.” You reply softly, noticing how reserved the cursed human was being. The demon hums, the sound reverberating in his throat as his towering figure looms over the cracked door that led to his room. “M’fine.” He murmurs shyly, reserved as if he was about to close the door. You quickly put your shoe into the gap though; unexpectedly stopping the demon from closing the door.

“No you’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t be cowering behind your door.” You explain, your voice laced with concern as his eyes widen at your sudden advance. With a harsh swallow and a low growl, he backs away from the door; leaving you free to come in. Once you have entered the dark room, the stench of musk and sweat is evident as Jack sheepishly sits back into his bed. Your brows furrow, closing the door behind him. “Jack.. What’s going on?” You ask softly, trying to come closer only to watch Jack motion for you to stop.

“Don’t.. Come near, please.” He firmly murmurs, breath labored as his tail flicks with worry. You remain still, watching closely as Jack’s eyes narrow in focus. You wait for an expected explanation or context, in which Jack sighs heavily. “.. I’m in heat. I forgot to manage it beforehand and it.. Spiraled.” Jack explains, swallowing as he looks at you. You take time to process this before letting out a soft hum. “You.. Do you go through cycles like that?” “.. Yes, I do.” He replies with that deep, smoky voice as he curls up more onto his bed. You swallow, thinking before your eyes widen. 

You could now get a better glimpse of Jack; the dimly lit light capturing some of his features. He had only been wearing a black tank top and what appeared to be boxers; His bulge was apparent though hidden as he crossed his legs in a reserved manner. “.. Is there any way I can help?” You ask quietly, in which Jack looks up at you with confusion yet curiosity. “You think you can help me? I… You’ll get hurt, trust me. I don’t want to risk it.” Jack cautiously warns, but you can’t help but look at him with a bit of empathy. You could tell Jack was hurting; itching for release as your scent subtly mixes with the musky scent of primal desires in the room.

You walk over cautiously, before Jack could even protest - you stand face to face with him. “.. Do you trust me, Jack?” You ask with a soft tone, quieter than your usual radiant voice. Jack looks at you as he bites the inside of his cheek, suffocating under the scent of you so close to him. “.. Not much.” He answers truthfully, shyly as he tries to pull a bit backwards to breathe correctly. His mind is obviously in a conflicted haze; filled with insecurity and instinct as his gray skin flushes a charcoal color. 

“.. Can I gain your trust then?” You murmur softly, leaning closer to the other as you gently let your knee press into the mattress. Jack’s eyes widen, breath caught in his throat as he watches you attentively. His body tenses, but with your subtle movements Jack doesn’t seem to move away. You take this as unspoken consent, your hand gently grazing the other’s shoulder. “Let me help you, Jack..” You murmur quietly, and Jack lets out a soft growl in return. His clawed hand hesitantly rises up to your waist, shy as his pointed ears lower.

“.. I’m not… Sure about this.” Jack breathes, the air filling with sultry tension as you move to slide up onto the demon’s lap. His breath is caught again, a short gasp coming from him as you gently sit in his lap. You can feel his hard on pressing against your ass, twitching at the sensation as Jack lets out a soft murmur of pleasure. “Please..?” You insist softly, a small plea as you raise your hand to cup the demon’s cheek. Jack tenses, breath heavy and hot against your wrist as his hands grip at your waist. 

It is a silent moment before you slowly move in, hesitantly capturing his cold lips against yours. The kiss is slow and cautious, Jack's hands tentatively slide down to your plush inner thighs. Jack can feel your cock harden in the kiss, making the demon growl softly as he deepens the slow kiss. You allow Jack access; tongues soon swirl inside of your mouth as you try to keep up with Jack’s rhythm. It became apparent that Jack is trying his hardest to hold back; making this experience both slow and passionate as you both explore each other’s bodies.

You feel Jack’s hands grip your plush thighs, soon placing your back against the mattress as his three monstrous tongues keep exploring your mouth. You feel yourself harden, softly groaning as you feel Jack rut against the bulge in your pants. Jack pulls back, letting you catch your breath as he tugs against your shirt. “Off. Now.” Jack orders slowly, and your eyes widen slightly at the sudden command. Though you obediently shed off your top, feeling Jack unfasten your belt. You lift your hips, giving the demon active access as he tugs down your underwear and pants, exposing your cock as it gently sits against your stomach. 

You flush slightly, the hungry look in the demon’s eyes alluring yet sinister as his claws drag you closer to him. You swallow, looking up at the other as it seems he reaches for something. You recognize the bottle of lube; Jack gently rubbing it onto his fingers as he warms up the viscous liquid. “Jack.. C- careful…” You murmur, hearing a growl erupt from Jack’s throat as he eagerly spreads your legs. “Don’t worry.. M’ being as careful as I can be.” He whispers back, and soon you can feel two of his fingers slip inside of you. 

You gasp, wincing slightly as the intrusion as he starts to shallowly thrust his fingers inside of you. Jack groans, biting his lip softly as he feels your walls tighten over his fingers. You let out soft murmurs of pleasure; letting out a whimper as Jack curls his fingers right into your prostate. “Feeling good, little lamb?” Jack teases softly, a groan slipping past his dark lips as you nod eagerly. “Good boy..” The demon growls, stretching you out thoroughly. His senses are going haywire; the sticky scent of arousal and tension making Jack’s heat far more tense. 

You soon gasp as you feel something cold and wet against your nipple, You register Jack’s tongue sliding across the sensitive bud, making your body more hot as he continues to abuse your sweet spot expertly. Soon enough, Jack removes his digits from your entrance, the room filled with thick sexual tension as Jack slides off his boxers and strips himself. The demon’s tail swishes excitedly, eagerly as he takes position between your legs. His tongues run up your neck, teeth teasingly grazing your neck as he positions himself. 

You swallow, bracing yourself as you try your best to relax. Jack soon slips into your tight heat, letting out a guttural growl as his claws squeeze your hips harshly. You whimper, gasping at the stretch of his tendrilled cock and sting of his claws piercing into your flesh. Jack hungrily captures your lips into a more tough kiss; Starting to shallowly thrust as he grits his teeth. “Fuuck- good boy..” The sounds of Jack’s praises and animalistic growls reverberate in the room, harmonizing with your soft cries of pleasure. Jack’s hips soon sputter along, pressing you further into the mattress as he mercilessly thrusts deeper inside of you.

You whimper, voice cracking and pitching as both of you start to feel the pressure building in your stomachs. His claws mark into your body, breaking some of your plush skin. Jack growls, soon his sharp teeth landing into your shoulder. You yelp, wincing at the sting yet being so helpless as his thrusts increase inside of you. “J-ack, oh god-” You whine out, and eventually you reach your own orgasm. You cry out as white ropes of pleasure shoot onto your abdomen and chest; Some getting on Jack a good bit with how intertwined you both are. 

Jack snarls, groaning at the taste of your blood in his mouth as he sucks a love bite into you. With one final sputtering of his hips, he buries deeply inside of you and finishes. His tendrilled cock moves and shifts slightly inside of you; almost unintentionally teasing as you whimper from the overstimulation. After a few moments for you both to catch your breath, Jack looks down at the wound he made with concerned eyes. “.. Don’t worry about it.” You murmur, arms coming up and wrapping around his neck. 

You both sit there as you ride this high out, you whispering soft reassurances to Jack as he tries his best not to overthink. He seemed content though; proud of himself for not tearing you to shreds. You softly stroke his hair, flinching as he slowly moves out of your abused hole. Jack watches for a moment as his own seed leaks out of you, his flushed face becoming darker as he shyly leaves between your legs to grab a wet towel.

… Jack cleaned up for the most part; he insisted that you rest anyways. Upon cleaning up the mess they made and Jack even going as far as to gently place a bandage over his bite wound (which you insisted would heal fine but he seemed adamant), You both curl in in his bed together. Jack’s strong, gray arms holding you close as he spoons you. You smile, glad to have helped out somebody in need. Though, something tells you after this day.. Jack and you would become a bit closer than you realize.

[southernbluebellereader]

Being Chosen...By A Baby

Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley x F! Single Mom (COD MW(2/3))

Warning: Fluffy stuff, Baby Fever, MAJOR BABY FEVER

Summary: Simon Riley isn't too particular about babies, until he meets yours.

Word Count: ~1,670 words

Master List | Tag List Request (Tag List At The Bottom)

A/N: I loved writing this, it's been on my mind for a while. I didn't like the ending because I didn't know how to end it lol

Edit: Pronouns and names were all over the place but it should be fixed lmao thanks for letting me know

Imagine being chosen by someone. Someone intentionally looking at you and thinking - contemplating, deciding - and choosing to pick you. It’s as simple as picking you to ask for directions, ordering a cup of coffee, and begging to touch your skin.

But it’s something special when someone as small as a little child is looking at you and choosing you. No one knows what goes on in their mind, behind those curious eyes, those rosy and chubby cheeks, that little button nose, that babbling little mouth with teeth fighting to make way. No one knows what those cute little chubby cherubs think when they decide to reach out to grab anything and everything in sight.

The grip of a child is mightier than anyone Lieutenant Simon Riley has ever seen.

Lieutenant Simon Riley - the infamous Ghost. He’s not supposed to exist. The enigma.

Yet… out of anyone who could have found him and had a mighty grip on his gray fleece jacket was your little chunky cherub made of a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls, looking at him with big curious eyes, absorbing information like a sponge. Your little infant son of nine months old, sitting comfortably in a little wrap carrier so that he can comfortably lay against your chest, he has seen Simon and reached out and grabbed a little handful of his gray fleece jacket with no intention of letting go.

It was a quick day for you so you didn’t need the baby carriage today, the wrap keeping your son against your chest would suffice, you liked having your baby against your chest anyways. In the city, it was easy to get around by walking and public transport, but you needed something in the next town over so you had to take the train. The platform for the train was nearly empty, you were early, so you had some time to yourself and your little boy giggling and babbling away, occasionally wiping his nose and talking to him about the plans for the day.

Slowly but surely, people started to pile in as the time went on, the train would be arriving soon.

Even a ghost needs a place to stay, right. On the occasion that he is home, he tends to stay out of his home, usually to replace food that had spoiled while he was gone. Simon arrived at the train station and waited on the platform. It wasn’t too cold, but chilly enough to wear his gray fleece jacket.

It was nice and quiet until more people started to pile up onto the train station. Usually he didn’t mind until people started to get into his personal space, which rarely happened anyways. Even in more civilian clothes, in a place where people barely recognize him, despite him living there, people tend to stay away from people who look mysterious.

As more people pile into the station, he slowly moves towards the center of the station. Huffing slightly to himself, he glances slightly at the giant clock. The train would be arriving soon. As he waited, he’d hear bits and pieces of conversations from people about their lives.

He didn’t mind it, he felt more human.

After a while, he heard something he didn’t hear often.

An animal?

No.

A baby.

The baby seemed to continue to babble, getting louder as he moved again. For some reason it made him curious. It’s not that he wasn’t fond of children, his childhood was pretty fucked up, but a child was an innocent being in this cruel world. Sometimes he wondered what he’d be like if he’d spent more time around children - or what things would be like if he had children.

But that’s just a random thought in his mind. A man like Lieutenant Simon Riley - with the sins and atrocities he’s been through and committed, he has no business having children. He is the one mothers tell their children to stay away from. He is the boogeyman underneath a child’s bed.

Hearing the babbling again, he instinctively turns his head and looks around for a moment, then looks down, seeing the source of this little creature.

An infant child, probably no more than 9 months old, a drool covered fist in his mouth, the other arm flailing in every direction. And you, holding your child wrapped in a long cloth and tied around your waist, Simon couldn’t figure out how you held the chunky child on your chest with just a scarf. 

You were on the phone with someone talking about baby related things. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and your baby. Such a mundane sight. A mother and her child. He glanced at your hand caressing your child’s chubby and rosy cheeks. No ring. Single mom? No wait, that’s rude. 

Cracking a small smile at the sight, he looked at the child for a moment, finding amusement in how you tried to sooth your child as you talked on the phone, swaying your hips slightly. You kept your eyes on your little cherub the entire time, playing with your son’s cheeks, making him giggle and smile, occasionally acknowledging him, calling him your honey bun.

Then you got caught up with your conversation and looked away. Your child looked around for a moment, content and happy. Simon didn’t know what he found so amusing and intriguing about this child. When he thought about children, he thought of crying little messes, unruly children, little rascals who were nothing but trouble.

This little dough-boy? He had an urge to just poke his little rosy cheeks. You were holding your son, Simon practically stood right next to you but he couldn’t tell you what you were talking about. Your little cherub had dampened his senses.

More people started to fill the train station. The train would soon arrive. Simon was practically next to you. At this point, he didn’t mind being next to you and your baby. As more people surrounded the three of you, you glanced up at Simon and smiled sheepishly and mouthed ‘Sorry’ in an attempt to apologize in case she’d bumped into him. Simon saw as you wrapped your free arm tighter around your baby that was tightly wrapped against your chest.

It’s ok. You’re fine. He didn’t even know you, but he didn’t want anything to happen to you or your baby. 

He knew the train would be arriving soon so he looked up at the time and looked to see if the train would be coming soon. Staring was rude. He had manners.

Not even a moment passed after he looked away did he feel a slight tug on his arm. Suddenly aware of his surroundings he looked down again. Your little munchkin demanded attention from the behemoth of a man named Simon. You were still on the phone, looking away.

Simon smiled at the sight and sighed in relief. You little rascal. Their eyes met, for such a cute little thing, your son looked at Simon intently, studying him. Simon was wondering what he was thinking. The little hand that had such a strong grip on his fleece jacket tugged at him to come closer.

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” Simon said, using his other hand to wave at your child, making him smile slightly and let out a gleeful sound.

You turned your head at the sound and laughed at the sound of your son laughing, then blushed when you realized he was pulling on Simon’s sleeve. She quickly said her good-bye on the phone and hung up, then looked up at Simon, smiling sheepishly.

“I-I’m sorry, sir-” You gently pulled on your baby’s arm to try and get him to let go of his arm.

Simon let out a small chuckle as he waited patiently, smiling at the sight, “It’s fine. He’s got a mighty grip, alright.”

You chuckled as your child started babbling at Simon, as if he could be understood, refusing to let go despite your attempt to make him unhand Simon, “Once they got you, they don’t want to let go.”

You glanced up at Simon, seeing a small smile on the man. He reached up also with his free hand and gently held the child’s wrist, “I ain’t going anywhere, you can let go of me now. I think we’re going on the same train.”

Your child finally let go but continued to try and reach out for Simon, instantly taking a liking to him. You sighed as you looked up at Simon, the train finally approaching, “I’m sorry again, sir-”

“It’s fine, really. You’ve got a cute one.” Simon smiled at you and your child, who was still mesmerized by him.

You smiled up at him in return, glancing down at your son, then back up at Simon, “Haha yeah, he is something.”

Once the train doors opened, people quickly exited the train as quickly as people entered.

“This is my train-” You looked up at him and then toward the train, then attempted to walk forward. But people rushed around them. You kept your arms around your child and Simon felt the need to stay close, this way people would actually walk around you as you and Simon stepped into the train. 

Once inside, you found a seat and sighed as you sat down. The seats filled up quickly and Simon ended up sitting opposite of you and your baby.

Smiling awkwardly at each other, you apologized again for your son grabbing onto him.

“It’s fine, really. I like his determination.” Simon looked at him as you turned slightly so Simon could see her son’s face, who smiled when he saw Simon again. “What’s his name?”

“Joseph. But I think he likes being called Joey.” You said as she caressed little Joey’s cheek as he cooed at Simon.

Simon gave her and Joey a genuine smile this time. Joseph… Tommy’s son…

“I’m Simon, what’s your name?” He looked up at her.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

Tag List:

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98 @gabriellathegreat @kult6 @loadedberetta @sarahs-secrets2 @whore4dilfs @addy3114 @ollie71526483 @blueoorchid

[dropthedemiurge]

Time of Fever (Donghee/Hotae story recap) #1

Since this movie (Unintentional Love Story's spinoff, prequel about Hotae and Donghee) is currently shown only in cinemas in Korea, I went and watched it :D And for people who don't mind spoilers or want to know what's their story without waiting until it becomes available and translated online, I wrote a recap!

It turned out to be... uhh... quite lengthy so I'll make several posts or comments :] Let me know if you want to be tagged in them!

Disclaimer: I'm putting everything under 'read more' so people won't catch spoilers accidentally! Screenshots are from the trailer, I put them along the scenes I described. Disclaimer #2: I'm not fluent in Korean (especially listening to it by-ear) and some characters had accents/satoori so some details can be missed. But I tried my best to write down what I was definitely sure about :D I'm re-listening to my audio recording so it won't be that far away from truth.

Enjoy!

Hotae is standing outside, dressed in a suit, looking far away as kids shout around. The camera pans out, and it's revealed he's dressed in a funeral-attending suit (seems like his father has died). The kids' ball rolls to his feet, and they ask Hotae to pass them the ball back. Hotae leads the ball and plays the football with kids, starting to smile.

Hotae moves to the big cottage-like house with backyard and peach trees where his mom (and also Donghee) has been living. He is eager to rush into the house, calling out 'Hyung!' but Donghee isn't at home. Hotae is looking at all the old shelves, childhood books and sport trophees. 

He texts Donghee "Hyung, I arrived! When are you coming?". Donghee hasn't responded but he was coming after school, hesitantly walking along the house outer wall. Hotae notices him and sneaks to hide in bushes, jumping over and surprising him. I think they haven't seen each other for 2(?) years. They bicker a little. Then Hotae says: "Hyung, you haven't changed at all". Donghee replied with: "You grew up well, Go Hotae."

Their moms are chatting and suggesting Hotae goes to Donghee's school, while Hotae is taking out books outside and Donghee is studying inside the house. They steal glances at each other through the window.

Donghee and Hotae go through school's gates, Donghee is grabbed by a friend and Hotae is stopped by the guard (because of his improperly looking uniform). Then we're at the swimming pool, Hotae is in the team, getting scolded along with other late students. The head(?) of the team is Donghee's friend who said Hotae better be working hard, if he wasn't Donghee's younger bro (not specified meaning sibling or just junior) they would've kicked his ass. Hotae bites back that he's not Donghee's younger bro.

Donghee came home late, Hotae was waiting for him. He speaks to Donghee very informally and disrespectfully, 'You know what hour it is? Don't you hear me? Hey, Kim Donghee!' Donghee: "Are you out of your mind? Why aren't you calling me hyung?".

Hotae asks Donghee if he got 1st place in competition and says that he has to also earn 1st place then. He asks Donghee to come see him, even if it's just evaluation and not competition. Donghee responds that he'll come see Jisoo (his friend on the swimming team), Hotae is annoyed. "Say it once again! Who you'll come to see?! - Yoo Jisoo. - Again. - Who?>:(( - Aaah damn it, fine. You, I'll come to see you, happy?" Hotae is, indeed, happy and promises to get 1st place.

The swimming competition starts, Hotae starts well but fails. Donghee's standing outside waiting. Jisoo comes to him offering to come get some food, but Donghee declines. Jisoo's like ah, you're waiting for your guy, alright.

Donghee goes to search for Hotae. Hotae is sitting near the wall in his swimming suit, towel on his shoulders and head, he's trembling while crying. Donghee sits in front of him and says: "Wow, you're really ugly :D Get up, let's go grab some food. No? Alright, just cry out as much as you can then. I won't tell anyone."

They walk back home down the train road, lit up by the sunlight. Hotae: "Aah the sun is so bright, my eyes hurt." Donghee: "Isn't it because you cried so hard?" Hotae: "No!>:(" They bicker a little, and Donghee laughs at Hotae's face expression again. Meanwhile, Hotae was emotional but now he's in awe because there is someone watering bushes behind Donghee, and there are droplets of water and bright warm sun, and Donghee looks so beautiful. They walk back home together.

Hotae watches his mother dot on Donghee as he leaves home again. Hotae follows Donghee and discovers he's often staying in the old art workshop schoolroom. There are old drawing easels and canvases, books everywhere and two plaster busts. Hotae wanders around and tries to peek into sketchbooks, Donghee rushes to him and grabs the dark blue sketchbook out of his hands, scolding him not to open it.

(screenshot not from this scene but this is the view of that school art studio~)

Hotae discovers some book lying around and opens up to read it. It's a story about man turning into an insect (I didn't see the cover but I can safely guess it's "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka?). Hotae is confused what kind of story is this. Donghee is like "If one day I get turned into an insect, (will you still love me) am I Kim Donghee or am I an insect?". Hotae is still confused about his question and the book.

Hotae falls asleep, napping in the studio while Donghee studies. Donghee walks away without him but slams the door loudly so Hotae wakes up and runs after him. It's raining outside, they are covering their head with hood (H) and backpack (D). In the middle of rain pouring, Hotae stops giving any fucks and spreads his arms, shoving his face under the rain. Donghee looks at him, smiles and does the same. They both enjoy the pouring rain and play in it, until they run to hide in the tunnel.

Hotae laughs, they remember their childhood. Donghee asks why Hotae doesn't call him "hyung". Hotae doesn't answer but comes to him and helps squeeze out the water from his orange fluffy sweater. Romantic mood, cue~

The rain turns into thunderstorm when they are already home. They sleep next to each other on different futons. Donghee's back is turned to Hotae, he's facing the window. He's trembling under the blanket. We get flashback to an angry man (his dad) punching and hitting Donghee to the ground amidst lightning and thunder.

Hotae stirs up and asks whether he's cold or scared. Donghee tells him to just go to sleep, but Hotae refuses. Then he's like 'aah whatever, move!', gets up and lies right next to Donghee (back to him). After a while, Donghee turns and scoots closer, clasping his shirt in his fingers, asking Hotae not to mind it.

Hotae asks: "You weren't like this before, what happened? - Everything changes, so I have changed too." Donghee almost noses into him. Hotae feels the breath from his lips on his back, gets shivers and remembers it next morning as well.

They sit on a porch of the house, Donghee brought Hotae some cut up tomatoes to eat. Hotae whines that it's too hot. He grabs tomato, bites in it and the drop of juice escapes down his arm. Donghee fixates on it and reaches out to wipe it with his fingers. Hotae freaks out about it, gets a bit rude and leaves.

He's swimming in the pool alone, full of thoughts about Donghee that obviously bother him. There's a random girl who meets him after his practice, she confesses to Hotae and asks him out. Hotae: "Well, alright".

They walk together, but Donghee was playing basketball and now is going home. Hotae tells the girl he'll be leaving and runs to Donghee, putting an arm around his back that Donghee says to keep to himself. Girl, frustrated, yells after him. Donghee is confused but Hotae tells him not to mind it and offers to go grab some food.

Days go by, Donghee keeps texting Hotae to help him with something (like 'buy some eggs on the way home', or 'bring me earphones' etc), Hotae ditches his new girlfriend because of "urgent thing", and rushes home with eggs.

Donghee is cooking and is surprised to see his face (there is a small wound). We learn that girlfriend cursed at Hotae and slapped him for not giving her any attention and constantly ditching her. Hotae says it's nothing, he just broke up with his girlfriend. "Why? - Because I bought eggs. - What even is this…" 

Donghee walks home from school, he sees Hotae and goes to him happily but Hotae's with another girl who confesses to him and asks to become her boyfriend, and Hotae once again says "Alright then". Donghee is upset.

He returns home late, and Hotae yells at him because he was worried and Donghee wasn't responding to any texts, yet he was holding a phone in his hand (idk why but he had two in the movie xD). They bicker again about Hotae addressing him impolitely. "- Ya! (Hey) - Ya? Ya?! Hey, are you really not calling me hyung, you–"

Hotae looks at Donghee. "I can't (call you hyung). I won't!"

He walks away from him, but after awhile stops and turns back. "Go faster!" He returns and grabs him by the wrist, dragging him towards the house. Donghee smiles. Even when he tells Hotae to take his hand away, Hotae won't.

[to be continued–]

[makoodles]

Soooo I dunno if ur up for it but can we get a continuation of the baby fever thing where tsu'tey and s/o adopt spider but now it's in the future kinda like pre avatar 2 where spider is a teenager. Nothing angsty I just wanna read how Tsu'tey teaches spider things and spider calls him dad and spider finally getting that family love (I would literally die for this little boy I- *explodes*)

this is called having no self control btw! this was meant to be a 500 word drabble lol, but since you all love dad!tsu'tey so much, here we go!

continuation of baby fever

part one

pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none!

tags: fluff, dad!tsu'tey, adopted spider, pregnancy mention

"Dad, you're drawing them on crooked!" Spider complains, leaning away from his hands.

Tsu'tey frowns, looking down at his work. "They are not crooked."

"They are! Look!"

The stripes that Tsu'tey has painted onto Spider's fragile human skin upon his insistence do not looked crooked to Tsu'tey's eye, but he squints closer at them anyway.

"They look fine to me, maitan." He says with a sigh, dipping his fingers back into the paint dye and finishing up on the last stripe he had been working on. "Look at my stripes - they are not perfectly even."

Spider grumbles, but goes quiet as he darts a look at Tsu'tey's stripes. Seeing proof that Tsu'tey's stripes are not perfectly symmetrical seems to be enough to soothe him, at least for the moment.

When the kelku entrance rustles, Tsu'tey does not need to turn around to know that it's you. He knows you by the sound of your footsteps and the way your hands coast so softly over the broad expanse of his shoulders.

"Hello, boys," You murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to Tsu'tey's cheek. His ears twitch happily, and you move back to avoid getting hit with one, "Oh, Spider. The stripes again? That stuff is so hard to wash off-"

"That's the point, ma." He says, craning his head around to look at you. "I want it to last. I'm faster when I've got the stripes."

"Finished." Tsu'tey murmurs, clasping his son's shoulder before pushing himself to his feet.

Spider stands too, and Tsu'tey looks down at him thoughtfully. The stripes are a little jagged, though there's no way that Tsu'tey will ever admit that. More than anything, his attention catches on how grown Spider has become. He is still small, only reaching Tsu'tey's navel, but he has grown taller than you. His shoulders have broadened, growing thick with muscle from his long days running and playing with Na'vi children. It has always been more difficult for him to keep up, but the result of his tenacity is the impressively defined musculature at such a young age.

"We are going fishing, yawntutsyìp." Tsu'tey says to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "We will be back soon."

"I'll catch you a big one, ma." Spider adds, pushing masked face into your neck in a hug before bouncing away.

"Did you see!" Spider is still enthusing about his catch the whole walk back to the village.

"I saw." Tsu'tey confirms. The woven basket with their catch is slung over his shoulder, and a content sort of smirk is playing around his mouth as he watches Spider bounce over the tree roots.

"It was huge, and I nearly missed it but then I managed to hit it right as it darted out from behind those big rocks-"

"It was very impressive." Tsu'tey intones, reaching out to ruffle at Spider's hair.

Spider is still grinning, flying high on the success of his mini hunt. "I told you that the stripes made me faster!"

Tsu'tey lets out a rumbly sort of laugh, letting his hand drop from the top of Spider's head to the back of his neck and letting it rest there. His son is growing older, becoming a man, and yet he is still so small under Tsu'tey's hands. He feels a flare of vicious protectiveness deep in his chest, but that's nothing new.

"It was a very good catch, maitan." He murmurs, squeezing lightly at Spider's shoulders.

Spider looks down at his feet as he skips over another exposed tree root. "Do you think I'll be a good hunter?"

Tsu'tey tilts his head, and catches at Spider's bicep as he slips on moss. Once he is sure that he's stable on his feet, he releases his arm and pats him on the back.

"Yes. You have a good teacher." He bares his teeth at Spider in a grin, and gets a little smile in return. "But even if your talents do not lie in hunting, that will be okay. No matter what your skills are, I will be proud of you, my boy."

Spider's cheeks redden, but he smiles back all the same. The corners of his eyes crinkle just like yours do, and Tsu'tey's heart swells at the similarity between the two of you. His precious little family.

When they enter the village, you're waiting by one of the cookfires. You're fiddling with a couple of beads, and Tsu'tey recognises that you're weaving together a hair decoration.

"Yawntu," Tsu'tey calls as he approaches with Spider at his hip. "Look at what our son caught."

Spider takes the basket from him and bounds forward, grinning wide behind his mask as he proffers it at you. You make a big show of oohing and ahhing as you look into the basket, looking very impressed indeed.

"What big fish," You say. "These could feed the whole village for days!"

It had taken Tsu'tey quite some time to learn how to read the body language of Sky People, but even he can see how pleased Spider is. If he had a tail, it would be swishing wildly.

"I'm gonna go show Lo'ak." Spider says with a grin. "He couldn't catch anything yesterday! Jake isn't as good a teacher, I guess."

"Spider." You scold, giving him a look.

"Go, show Lo'ak." Tsu'tey encourages. "Make sure that Jakesully sees too. Show him that my son is a fine hunter."

"Tsu'tey!" You chide, delivering a smack to his thigh.

Spider just laughs, before taking the woven basket and running with it deeper into the village towards the Sully's kelku. Tsu'tey watches him go, before turning to you with a smug little grin.

"Ma'yawntutsyìp," He murmurs, leaning forward and pressing his forehead into yours. "He did well. He is growing skilled."

You cup the back of his head with one hand, scratch at his head with your little fingers. He lets his eyes slide shut lazily as he enjoys the feeling of your warm body so close to his after a hunt. He drops his head further into the cradle between your shoulder and neck and nuzzles there.

"I do not like him hanging around with Jakesully's children," He murmurs, his voice muffled in your throat. "There are many other children in the village."

"Oh stop," You mumble, your fingers massaging at his scalp, "They’re good kids."

"Neteyam is like Neytiri. Sensible." He grunts into your skin. "But Lo’ak is like Jakesully. He will get Spider into trouble."

"Oh, Tsu'tey." You sigh in that way you usually do when you think he's being dense. "They're both good kids. Besides, he's not really going to show Lo'ak anyway. He's going to show Kiri."

His brow furrows. "Kiri? She has no interest in fishing."

You sigh again, although this time you seem a little more amused. "I seem to remember you showing off your fishing skills to me when we were younger, hm?"

"That was different," He says dismissively. "I was courting you. That was my way of expressing interest, of showing you that I am strong."

"Mhm." You say, as though you're waiting for something.

Slowly, Tsu'tey raises his head from where it's buried in your shoulder and squints at you. He's not sure if he's following what you're suggesting.

"You do not think this is the same?" He asks, frowning. "Spider is- he is too young. He cannot be thinking of mating yet-"

"Oh, he isn't." You interrupt with a quick shake of your head. "It's a little crush, love. It's sweet."

But Tsu'tey is frowning, his mind overactive. "Does she- how does Kiri feel? If she does not share his feelings, he will be so disappointed-"

"He isn't going to be proposing anytime soon, relax."

"He needs someone who will value him-"

"Tsu'tey."

He falls quiet, looking into your eyes with a thoughtful little frown. You're looking right back at him, mouth quirked.

"He's a teenager with a crush. Let him be." You murmur, stroking a thumb over one of his pointed ears and making him shiver.

Tsu'tey just grumbles. "He has not told me about a crush."

"Well, I'm sure he will," You say simply. "He's a teenage boy. He's going to be shy about it."

Tsu'tey huffs, and looks down at his hands with a scowl. The thought of his small human boy developing feelings for someone who may not return them makes him feel shifty and aggravated – how is he supposed to protect him from such a thing? It will hurt him so much, and there is nothing that Tsu'tey can do to stop it.

"Stop overthinking." You mutter, nudging against his bicep with your shoulder as you finish tying the hair decoration together. "For all you know, Kiri likes him too and is just shy about it."

Tsu'tey grunts. The thought of Spider, such a small and weak little thing, having his feelings at the mercy of Jakesully's daughter makes him feel a little as though he's losing his mind.

"Hey."

When you nudge him again, he turns to you fully. The beaded hair decoration in your hands is finished, all red beads and golden yellow feathers. You hold it up, eyes bright.

"I made this for you." You say, holding it out for him.

Tsu'tey's stern expression softens, and he ducks his head closer to you. "For me? Will you put it on, yawntu?"

Your sweet little face is so bright as you shuffle forward and reach up for his face. Tsu'tey watches you carefully, reaching out to lay his hands against your waist as you wind the beaded decoration around a small section of braids just behind his ear.

"So handsome." You coo at him when it's tucked neatly behind his ear.

Tsu'tey smiles, satisfied. "Thank you."

You sit back and then nestle into him. He opens his arms and accepts you into his side easily, resting his chin over the top of your head contently.

"Our son will be a good hunter." He says, pressing a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. "And a good brother."

His hand lands on the curve of your belly, his thumb smoothing over the swell of it beneath your woven top. You lean into his touch, sighing happily as his other hand massages at the base of your spine.

"I know," You say simply, making a soft noise when he leans down to cup below your belly with his hands, lifting some of the weight up. "You've taught him well."

Pride swells in his chest, and he purrs softly as he presses his face into your neck again. You smell so sweet and comforting, and he inhales contently against your skin.

His small son has grown so strong, and his little mate fits so perfectly into his arms, no matter how large your belly has swollen. His family is so small and weak; he holds you close as his chest rumbles, pleased that he's large and strong enough to protect you all.

[joyfuladorable]

Fuck it, here's all my favorite Mikey-centric fanfics!!

There's A LOT + personal blurbs, so they're going under the cut (Mostly AO3, but there are some FFN links, too. Also, besides like the first two, there's no favoritism in the order)

2k3:

Pretend That I Never Left by redstringraven(sirimiri) - Complete/Plans for an Epilogue & Sequel!!

Fic that changed my BRAIN?! If my fanart [1 | 2 | 3] for it is any indicator, lol. I'll say for the umpteenth time that if you're looking for an Excellent Mikey fic with Perfect Characterization, this is IT (and you don't need to know ANYTHING about HZD trust me TRUST ME this fic deserves WAY more love) His swift ride-or-die friendship with Aloy will melt your damn heart!

Dragon of the Sun by ForestWhisper3 - Ongoing

My Other TOP favorite Mikey fic!! Again, fanart [1 | 2 | 3] indicator! Slow Burn(ish) Canon Divergence of Mikey unlocking his Mystic Powers as his family looks on in dismay as they struggle to protect him. The Good Shit!!!

Of Darkness And Light by Bayluff - Complete

OOOOOOO THIS ONE! Very good (also drew fanart for it)! Evil creature literally trying to consume Mikey's lifeforce from within as his family scrambles to help

A Chat With The Titan by secreterces5 - Complete

Mikey has a fun one-on-one talk with the supposedly reformed Bishop in Fast Forward. Mikey vaguely threatening Bishop, HEEHEE

A Simple Act Of Kindness by UlisaBarbic - Complete

That feel when you put your worth in what you can DO and the wish to be Acknowledged and the ONE thing you thought you did right was taken away OOGH AGH OOOOGH

Difficulty Breathing by RealityBreakGirl - Complete

Mikey did not come out of Grudge Match unscathed *smile* Truly one of my favorite 03 Mikey prompts to read about (honestly just check the entirety of the Grudge Match tag on AO3 for a fun time)

"A delivery boy! Uh, or turtle." by LollyHolly99 - Complete

Fic that has the distinction of being the first one I ever did fanart for! Gender Feels for Mikey cuz they're just like me FR!!

What Darkness Most Fears by UlisaBarbic - Complete

OOOGH AGH I LOVE THIS ONE!! Mikey has to save his bros from the clutches of an evil spirit while surviving horrifying monsters and battling a wicked fever!

Michelangelo by ForestWhisper3 - Complete

Mikey through the eyes of his family and how much they respect him and know him UwU

Mikey's Jigsaw by SailorSaysAhoy - Complete

Another awesome gender Mikey fic HOOHAA

Train-Wreck of Thought by halogalopaghost - Complete

When you're so talented you learn how to astral project but you start using it for pranks instead of understanding the drawbacks of said power and that bites you majorly in the ass big time (very good my stomach turned while reading this /pos)

A Brother's Bond by SuperKat - Complete

Mikey gets Real Sick and the fam can't help but remember last time one of them got so ill. OH MAN heartstrings WILL be pulled in this one!!

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year by moogsthewriter - Complete

Why can't Mikey ever catch a break during Christmas! A short fic that I enjoy Immensely for Mikey being stubbornly heroic and his family desperately trying to play catch up to help him

Questioning Choices by Mystic Medjai - Complete

Fun day at the beach goes catastrophically bad and the fam has to make difficult decisions to keep Mikey alive. THIS THIS THIS!! If I could pour this into my veins for the perfectly paced plot and characterization...

When It Counts by Kallasilya - Complete

Short fic of Mikey stubbornly and bitterly proving his brothers wrong (+ Don being a good brother)

Favourite Disease by devirnis - Complete

Mikey is forced to save his brothers as his body gradually falls apart from the inside. SO GOOD UGH Mikey being forced to deal with situations on his own always show how far he can Shine!

Nowhere Boy by taizi - Complete

OOOH I dunno how I can summarize this without giving the plot away but just know Mikey pulls through by thinking of his family

To Fit the Crime by T33la - Complete

AHHH AHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHHHH!! Mikey is accused of Murder and receives his sentence before his brothers can even jump to his defense! Oh the twists and turns of this murder mystery!!

you want to know why i sit and sigh (the night is so young it hurts) by love_killed_the_superstar - Complete

Angel and Mikey bonding over comics and unsupportive brothers So Cute)

imma be real with you (cause i started being real with me) by love_killed_the_superstar - Complete

Leo and Usagi being supportive of Mikey as he struggles to train for the upcoming Battle Nexus fight (and also maybe they flirt with each other a teensy bit)

just a hop, skip, and a jump away by baba_buoy - Complete

Mikey sick fic. Heart melting amounts of comfort UwU

Weak Link by yellowhollyhock - Complete

Sweet fic of Mikey feeling insecure about his place on the team, and Leo going through great lengths to prove him wrong like a good older brother :')

'Cause you are the sun, he is your moon/And though he can't speak, he will thank you soon by naivesilver - Complete

Post-Grudge Match Mikey waking up in the middle of the night bitter and sore and gods damn why's Raph awake, too?

Hunted by DysfunctionalRequest - Complete

Mikey wandering the woods alone in the middle of the night and having a VERY unfortunate encounter with hunters

Flipbook by T33la - Complete

Heartfelt moment between Mikey and Don concerning SAINW that makes me want to smash a cinder block against my head /pos

Dramaturgy by Completely_Unaware - Ongoing

Mind the tags! Mikey deals with a Battle Nexus loss in an unhealthy way (UmU)

The Red Means I Love You (Work) by AnonymousCritter - Ongoing

MIND THE TAGS! AU of Fast Forward. Mikey isn't saved from the traffickers in time and things spiral from there

The So-Called "Champion of the Battle Nexus" by 0ozero0 - Ongoing

Grudge Match canon divergence where Mikey gets hurt a little more seriously than in canon (but still wins)

2012:

Devil took your hand by moogsthewriter & taizi - Complete

Mikey mind controlled by the Shredder moment!! *laughs through my pain and tears and screaming*

walk with open hands by taizi - Complete

Mikey gets his hands on one of Renet's watches and things go topsy turvy from there (and it HURTS ME)

(un)reality by SpectrumWriting - Complete

Mind the Tags! Dimension X AU where Mikey is captured by the Kraang and is put through the wringer in more ways than one (OWIE)

evermore (Dimension X AU) series by coffeejellyenthusiast - Complete?

Mind the Tags! Mikey was in Dimension X for over a year and he's NOT OKAY

Gravitational Collapse series by Writing_In_Denial - Ongoing

MIND THE TAGS!! An Incredible it gets worse before it gets better series of Mikey being unintentionally abandoned by his brothers post-series and dealing with some Major Isolation and OOOGH IT HURTS ME SO MUCH BUT I WILL KEEP READING FOR THE EVENTUAL COMFORT

traveling so far to get there by taizi - Complete

Mikey and Raph getting stuck in an empty, post-apocalyptic world and struggling to survive (their BOND IN THIS IS SO SWEET WEH)

Rise:

nice, nice by postergirlsprank - Complete

Short fic of Casey Sr and Mikey bonding after an unfortunate encounter while on a snack run (Hey if you want more context for how this author writes Casey, go read his fic Imperfect Animals too heehoo)

either way, we're not alone by sinaesthesis - Complete

Mikey throughout the years of the Kraang Apocalypse (Lots of Loss and Hurt and Badassery)

going under by redhairedmuses - Complete

Mikey almost drowns during a fight with a mutant

Hyperactive Hypothermia by VeryAngryGremlin - Complete

After Mikey's winter wear accidentally goes in flames and a villain-enduced avalanche, Donnie struggles to keep his baby brother warm

that’s where the blood’s supposed to be! by Dragon_Scales_and_Fairy_Tales - Complete

With Raph and Leo constantly bickering, Mikey ignores a very serious injury after a fight with Meat Sweats

Clever Little Dino! by VeryAngryGremlin - Complete

Mikey trying to keep a robot pet a secret and suffering the consequences

Vs The World by DysfunctionalRequest - Complete

The aftermath of the Kraang strains the family's bonds, and Mikey feels hopelessly alone (and definitely isn't dealing with his trauma properly)

Empathy Amplified by Filsamek - Complete

When you accidentally use your powers to connect with your brothers' emotions then purposefully use them to ease their pain

Sunshine in the Rain by Carnati0n_bl00m - Complete

Probably the first fic I read after watching the Rise movie cuz I wanted to find something Mikey-centric involving Bishop and BOY does it deliver with the additional bonus of Leatherhead!! (also hey look fanart)

A Mystic Connection by rytheoneandonly - Complete

Mikey's mystic powers manifesting and evolving in ways he could never predict (aka Long Fic of Mikey stumbling to figure out why he wakes up exhausted and hurt every night)

The whole world in your corner series by GibbousLunation - Complete

Two fics of Mikey being Mikey and his bros being protective

Better Check Twice by Marz_Zero - Ongoing

Bishop captures a turtle with a bear trap (OW) and is an absolute bastard about it

Come Home Soon by Sherlock_Brolmes - Ongoing

With his brothers unavailable, Mikey (with the help of a former enemy) uncovers a massive conspiracy involving New York and the Hidden City. I LOVE THIS I LOVE SOLO DUO TEAM-UPS!!!! *PUNCHES THE AIR 13 TIMES*

Mikey's Artistic Guide to Dealing with Trauma and Fame by Origami_Nami - Ongoing

Mikey using graffiti as an outlet and accidentally becoming famous

Rook by unorthodoxx - Ongoing

Another Bishop fic of him outwitting the turtles to abduct one of them (Mikey)

Multi/Other:

Mystic Malfunction by VanillaVengeance - Ongoing

Rise Mikey accidentally portals himself to the 2012 Universe and struggles to survive and avoid this other version of his family (with mixed success). The progression of familial bonds in this is just *Chef's Kiss*

The Gauntlet by T33la - Complete

A mix of IDW & 03, a wonderful showcase of how Donnie and Mikey support each other (also, a cool invention and a big rocket and a terrifying near-death experience are involved)

I Get Knocked Down (But I Get Up Again) by Justalittleobsessed - Ongoing

MIND THE TAGS!!! Set in its own original iteration, Mikey has been immortal for as long as he can remember, and he's used to his occasional deaths (and revivals). But then his brothers find out... (AGH AGH THIS ALSO HURTS MEEEEE BUT OOGH the comfort and hope of the later chapters is so Worth It)

Whumptober 2023 series by Justalittleobsessed - Ongoing?

Collection of Mikey-centric one-shots from different iterations and feeling the HURT (Personal favorites are If Only the World Could Stop Spinning..., Just a Flesh Wound, and Not the Best of Days)

To Know Peace (You Gotta Let Go) by Deadpool1763492 - Ongoing (technically)

The Last Ronin Spoilers!! Mikey survives and whisks the new turtle tots away to live on a farm instead of being raised as soldiers. (AUUUUUU THE FEELS!! THE TOTS! MIKEYYYY!!!)

How to accidentally kidnap yourself several times over by Camildeni - Ongoing

Rise Mikey gets captured and accidentally summons other iterations (03, 12, and Bay) of himself trying to get out! They do NOT have a good time!! (but at least they have each other)

the dad diaries by angelmichelangelo - Ongoing

More TLR Mikey being a Dad (and dealing with his trauma sorta kinda)

The neighboring cell by SaltyYagi - Ongoing

2012 Mikey and Rise Leo trying to escape Dimension X together (and bonding)

Bonus Non-Mikey-centric:

Weathered Strings, Tethered Wings by Deadpool1763492 - Ongoing

(2003) SAINW AU!!! With the possibility of Don being alive dangled in front of them, the remaining turtles begrudgingly reunite to save him. Drew a cover for this with more art to come! LOVING the slow burn of reconciliation between these bitter old turtles UwU (Bitter Old Mikey my poor Bestie)

Mutant Nightmare by HamsterMasterSamster - Complete

(2003) The immediate aftermath of Worlds Collide

Hanging By A Turtle by CamsthiSky - Complete

(Rise) Literally the turtles struggling to get out of a deep pit they're hanging over

Shell Game by T33la - Complete

(2003) OKAY OKAY SO!!! OOGH Don encounters something Impossible while prepping a tracking device (for himself) and it snowballs into another Renet-involved time adventure (AND UMMM lots of existential contemplation and a surprise historical guest who's Very Cool)

Turtle Power by halogalopaghost - Complete

(2003) Immediate aftermath of the star ship reactor explosion in Exodus

Disposable by orphan_account (kudos to you wherever you are, author) - Complete

(2003) Bishop captures Don and Mikey and gives them a terrible choice

Dissection by AmevelloBlue - Complete

(2003) So much Comfort after the trauma of Worlds Collide (ie Don's interrogation and Mikey almost getting sliced open)

Find the Road by SillySocks - Complete

(2003) Perfect encapsulation of the family as they cope with Leo's absence while he trains with the Ancient One

Handle with Care by HamsterMasterSamster - Complete

(2003) April is seriously injured during a mission and has to deal with the turtles distancing themselves from her as she recovers

mind-body problem by hiraethseok - Complete

(2003) April and the Turtles Being Siblings the Fic

Healing in Tandem by Eggstasy - Complete

(2003) Canon divergence of Worlds Collide where Splinter is just a little too late to intervene before Bishop starts sawing into Mikey's shell

Let's Take Ibuprofen Together by GreenGoddessSmoothie - Ongoing

(2003) The turtles swap body and have learn to cope with each other's chronic pain

Not the Face I Know by GreenGoddessSmoothie - Ongoing

(2003) Mikey accidentally makes a wish that changes his family's lives forever (THEY'RE HUMAN THEY BECOME HUMAN AND THE PLOT IS COOL AND ALSO QUEER THEMES MY BELOVED)

The Great Skittle Heist of 2105 by AmevelloBlue - Ongoing

(2003) AU of Fast Forward where the Dark Turtles are babies instead and are very swiftly adopted by the Fam

The Labyrinth by HALFnHALF1 - Ongoing

(Mix of IDW/03) The Turtles wake up separated in a labyrinth with only a mysterious voice in their heads to guide them (and manipulate them)

“You didn’t tell me your extended family was in town!” by BoStaffsAreCool - Ongoing

Post-Turtles Forever. The 03 fam is Just beginning to wind down after the events of the movie and look who's knocking at April's door (the 87 turtles)

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 7 . Truth (2)

a/n: double update this week (I'll upload another chapter tom) to lament over my fever getting higher lol (I'm actually procrastinating my school works)

tags: frustrated rosalyn, again abuse as the norm, cursing, detrimental thoughts and ways of living, unhealthy coping mechanisms and trauma responses

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

Rosalyn is someone who threw away her royal position to pursue her dreams of being a mage.

A decision that removed her from her family.

The mage thinks that she would be sad by this if it wasn’t for the fact that she immediately found a new family to be with.

It's amazing if you ask her. It was as if the gods saw that she needed someone to trust after almost being killed and gave it to her in the form of a socially awkward swordsman.

And then almost right after she put her trust in Choi Han, she gained a little brother named Lock.

From there it spiralled. She met Cale and all the other people under him. She got the support she needed to make her dreams come true. On top of that, her relationship with her blood relatives is still good.

Overall it was nice. Especially when Cale seems to keep making friends everywhere and expanding this family-esc circle they have.

That was why when Cale brought another person home Rosalyn thought it would be the same thing. Thought that in a few days' time, that person would be part of their group, their family.

Well in a way they were.

Rosalyn has come to see _____ as her younger sibling, the same way she views Lock. She has taken it upon herself to help the healer acclimatize to their new group and environment in general.

However, every time Rosalyn thinks she’s making progress, _____ seems to go back into their shell.

At first, the woman thought they were just socially awkward. Perhaps shaken because their family literally just threw them to their death.

Her first mistake was assuming it was as trivial as that.

Her second mistake was not getting the full story.

If she had done that then maybe she wouldn’t be this shocked so early in the morning.

Well in her defence she was expecting Cale to talk about some sort of plan for when they meet the dragon. Why else would he gather the group this early right before they are set to travel to the dragon’s lair?

Apparently not.

As soon as everyone has settled Cale brought to everyone’s attention that they didn’t know how _____’s powers work.

This made Rosalyn confused. Because quite frankly what does this have to do with… well anything?

But oh god, the more _____ explains their abilities the more she understood why this has to be said now.

This should have been explained way earlier. Because what do they mean that _____ essentially absorbs their patients' wounds?

It made the mage look back at all the people the Medicus had healed. All the sickness and wounds they had to absorb.

And shit.

She remembered that _____ has been doing this since they were 9 years old. Maybe even earlier as she discovered that the famous story of their adoption is fabricated.

Rosalyn may have only known _____ for a short while, but that’s her little sibling goddammit.

A sibling she admires because of how helpful and selfless they are. Traits they possess that Rosalyn is now starting to resent.

The redhead shot a pointed look at the other redhead in the room. A look that says Rosalyn wants her questions answered. Cale responded with another eye contact that seemed to say “Later”.

“Just what-”

Cale put his hand up to stop Rosalyn from speaking. Everyone was still in the room minus _____. The redhead had sent them out as they hadn’t finished packing their things yet.

“To put it shortly, I need you all to keep an eye on _____.”

The man goes on to explain how the healer kind of lacks… common sense, for lack of a better term. It has something to do with how they were brought up. 

“We don’t need to look after them like a child. Just make sure they won’t go overboard using their abilities. No guarding them like a hound either.”

It's a no-brainer that the last part was for the visibly enraged Choi Han. He was still visibly enraged but nodded as he understood why Cale didn't want the healer to have guards as of now.

Rosalyn is sure that Choi Han is going to be overprotective of _____ in some way. Not that she blames him.

Cale went to stand up, signifying that the meeting was over. The rest followed and started filing out of the room. 

Everyone except Rosalyn.

She has questions and she’s going to get answers.

“Young master, how long have you known?”

“Since last night.”

“Were they deliberately hiding it?”

“No, they just didn’t think they could bring it up when no one was asking.”

“How are we supposed to- haaa”

“Blame their shitty family.”

On their way to the dragon’s lair, Rosalyn had a lot on her mind. Lots of puzzle pieces to put together.

Now that Rosalyn knows the full story everything started to make sense.

Made her realize just how hurt her sibling had been.

Just how much they suffered before Cale met them.

It made Rosalyn look back to some of the habits she noticed _____ has. Like how they almost seem apprehensive to talk to people in authority. How their hands and voice tremble when they thought they made a mistake. How they are so intent on healing everyone and low-key seem scared if a person’s condition is out of their jurisdiction.

How they take everything with apprehension. Like they can’t believe that they are being given things. Even when those things are basic necessities like a good plate of food. How they teared up when Raon gave them that red teddy bear from the night market. How apparently that was the first toy– no, the first thing, that they have ever received in their entire life for free. The first gift they get to indulge in.

How they are too independent for Rosalyn’s liking. How they always insist that the servants have better things to do than assist them. How they refuse to get treated when sick or injured despite them treating everyone else.

How they never speak unless spoken to first. How they will literally just stand there, bleeding and not saying a word unless they are given some sort of permission. This one frustrates Rosalyn so much. Not only does she want to hear more from the healer, but she also thinks they have so many good ideas. Before she let it go she thought they were shy, but that’s slowly going to change from now on.

How even when they were suffering from nightmares they were silent. How on one of those nights they looked more scared that Rosalyn saw them being vulnerable, as if it's a sin to have nightmares. To be vulnerable and lean on others. How on that night Rosalyn had to explain that there’s nothing wrong with asking for help after such things. How _____ nodded but seemed apprehensive. How Rosalyn knew that after that night they still suffered silently. Merely holding the mage’s hand as solace and comfort on the rare nights the healer allows themself to embrace the help presented to them.

How Rosalyn found out now that it was because _____ have been taught that since they don’t scar then they must not have pain. Since they only get a percentage of their patient’s pain then it would be arrogant and privileged of them to complain.

How they–

How–

Fuck.

Rosalyn is going to get revenge for _____. 

She’s going to make sure she gets it done one way or another.

a/n at the end: i wasn't quite sure how to get the point across that rosalyn was angry and frustrated beyond belief so I made her curse as she isn't really someone who's portrayed to curse a lot

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

You're feeling ill: COD headcanons

[MY MASTERLIST]

Rating: G Words: 600~ Pairing: none tags: SFW!, fluff, gn!reader, recovering from sickness, comfort. a/n: I'm feeling **so** sick (have a migraine) and decided to write these while waiting for my sleep aids to kick in.

Ghost: He's very caretaking-oriented and less so comforting. Clogged nose? He gets you a nasal spray and tissues. Hungry? Have some soup. Nauseous? Tea and saltines. Migraine? Turns off the lights and tells you to sleep. It sucks if you wanna cuddle and bask in his warmth because he will make you have the bed all for yourself so you can get better. Nonetheless, he's very efficient at taking care of you.

Price: This man is chronically sick. Not a day goes by where he's not nauseous or got a headache. (He joked about it in MW3, but frankly sounds accurate considering his high-stress job). This means that his perspective is a bit skewed. Will probably ask you "Are you sick enough that it's affecting your ability to work/study?" and when you say yes, will make sure to get you to bed and put a few meds, tissues, water bottles within your reach. Probably won't cuddle or coddle you, but will check in on you periodically and tuck you into bed with forehead kisses and words of encouragement.

Soap: (Is probably the reason you're sick in the first place) Will be miserable with you in bed. Everytime you sniffle or complain, he'll be right there with you, holding you close and grumbling "I ken, bonnie lass" in your ear. Will likely be all over you, hesitant to leave your side for longer than to get you things you need. Doesn't mind that you're sweaty/feverish/weak, he's rubbing himself on you like a puppy that's trying to lick you better.

Gaz: The man is a saint. He'll wrap his arms around you and kiss your forehead and rock you a little bit side to side until you fall asleep on top of him. Won't even complain about your bad breath when you have to mouthbreathe because of your clogged nose. Won't complain when you need to be away because you're overheating. Won't complain when you need all the lights off or the room to be cold either.

Alejandro: Remembers all the home remedies his mama used to use when he was little. 7Up for upset tummies, Caldo de Pollo for colds, loads of herbal tea, and Vicks VapoRub for literally any and every ailment. Will also hold you close, probably sit by your side and hold your hand and kiss the back of it while you groggily complain about how bad you feel.

Rodolfo: Also uses home remedies ^ but is a lot more likely to rush off to the pharmacy (even if it's the middle of the night!) to get you actual medication, especially when you're complaining about something specific like a headache or sore muscles. Will bathe you if you have a fever and feel gross and sweaty. Will spoon you from behind and play with your hair until you doze off.

Graves: Will let you groan and huff about how sick you feel. Probably teases you a bit when your voice gets nasally or hoarse, but will proceed to take care of you. Also whenever you get light-headed, he finds it to be hilarious. He parks you on the living room couch with blankets and pillows, tells you to tell him what you need and gets it for you. Also purposely makes you take copious amounts of Nyquil to knock you out.

König: Subscribes to the German (yes, I know he's Austrian) way of thinking that fresh air (and water) fixes everything!. Your head hurts? "Here, drink Wasser". You have a fever? "You need Lüften, I will open the window". You have cramps/nausea? "You need fresh air. Let's go for a walk. It will make you teel better." He means well and, granted, most of it works!! But my God, man, you don't want to go for a 3km hike when you feel like you're going to vomit.