#i woke up early and it was raining and i was cold

[guardbo]

been thinking abt this too hard today so i once again stopped drawing everything else and drew this instead

[themidnightcrimson]

the scarlet siren ࿏ wm

summary: in which you take a trip out to sea that you will regret.

words: 6.0k

warnings: siren!wanda, dubcon/noncon, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), size kink, biting, a lot of blood, violence, fear, suspense, drowning, deep water, mentions of death, i wrote this in an irish accent for some reason, did you know i have thalassophobia?

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

Fishing was competitive these days. It was a bad winter and an even worse famine, and with beef and poultry no longer in the shops, the villagers were forced to turn to the shore to fish.

Your little village was nestled on a plateau of land that stuck out into the cold sea. The shore was lined with big, black rocks that had tumbled down from the looming hills over time and landed at the water’s edge with only a thin strip of grainy brown sand between them and the water. Travelling down to the shore over all those rocks was already hard enough, but it was even harder when you had to carry your boat on your back.

People had tried to carve trails through all the rock to make the beaches more accessible, but with all the storms that the area faced, the rocks just got tussled back around and demolished any trails attempted.

In fact, it had just stormed the night before. It pissed rain and spit wind so hard that people woke up to holes in their roofs. Naturally, the beach was all torn up from it, but it would always clean itself up and go back to the way it was at some point before another storm came along. And while most people were at their cottages fixing the storm’s damage, you saw this early dawn as a prime opportunity to fish.

Fish had also been scarce recently because of all the people turning to the water for food sources, but you knew that the previous night’s storm had tussled the waters, which meant the fish were probably scurrying all around. The sun hadn’t even risen yet as you dragged your wooden boat down the rocks in the dim dawn hue, the wood scraping loudly against the rock’s hard and bumpy surface.

Managing to get down the rocks without twisting your ankle, you finally plopped down into the pebbly sand with a huff of breath, pushing your boat off your back. This was only half of your journey, though, because you weren’t even going to fish here on the beach like most people did.

Adjusting the leather strap around your neck that was holding your oars to your back, you dragged your boat through the damp sand to the rickety wooden dock that stood beside the lighthouse. The lighthouse was even more rickety, since no one bothered to upkeep it since this beach was the worst beach for ships to come in at. They almost always hit the rocks because of how deep the water dropped off from the shore and how thin the strip of sand was.

You pulled your boat to the very end of the dock and then threw the oars down in it, and then your bag of fishing gear, along with your pole. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself as you began pushing the single person-sized boat into the water. When it finally was fully in the water, you quickly jumped into it, causing a splash and a stressful cracking sound as you struggled for a moment to catch your balance. Finally, you sat down in the boat and let it settle before getting your oars and rowing yourself towards your destination.

There was a little cove area almost like an island to the east of the plateau of land. It was your favorite spot to fish because hardly anyone knew about it. It was barely visible from the shore even during a normal day, but it was completely out of sight on this extremely foggy, dark morning. The fog became more and more dense the further you rowed out into the water, until finally you were completely blinded.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured, reaching into your bag for your compass. The fog had completely surrounded you now to the point where you couldn’t even see the front bow of your boat. It was getting colder further into sea, too. Though the air above was tolerable, you couldn’t imagine how cold the water below felt.

The salty, wet air clogged your nose as you finally felt the cold round of metal in your hand, bringing your compass out of your bag. Sniffling from the cold air, you tried to adjust and read your compass when you suddenly heard something behind you—a voice.

Gasping, you whipped around to look behind you but only saw the thick white of fog. The voice had been shrill and steady, calling out some sort of smooth singsong noise that echoed over the water.

And then you heard it again, clear as day, right in front of you.

Snapping back around, you still could see nothing but the fog, yet the voice was still echoing all around you. It was a single note drawn out, not quite a shout or a scream, just an eerie note drawn out through the fog. Chills overcame you, but not from the cold.

Setting your compass down on the boat’s bottom, you grabbed your oars and began to quickly row towards the east. The fog seemed to be squeezing in on you now, some of it even spilling over the edge of the boat like thick smoke. Your heart was pounding—you couldn’t see where you were going, and you could still hear the voice in the back of your head. You wanted to get to the cove fast.

Suddenly, the wooden oar in your left hand stopped against something. You paused and looked over—you weren’t even able to see the paddle of the oar, only the handle you held. You tried to move the oar, but it wouldn’t budge. What could it be stuck on? Even though you couldn’t see, you knew you weren’t at the cove by now, and you were still heading east so you hadn’t drifted back to the plateau. These waters were so deep, there certainly was nothing your oar could be stuck in.

It was when something tugged your oar right out of your hand that you shrieked and jumped so hard that the boat rocked, icy water splashing onto your legs. With your left oar gone, you quickly used your right oar to haphazardly row forward, having to switch it over to the left side to keep going straight, more of the cold water splattering over you. Though you were crippled now with only one oar, you were so afraid that you rowed even faster than you normally would with two oars.

Though your arms ached, you kept rowing as fast as you could until finally the fog started to thin out. You were starting to break out of whatever thick cloud of sea fog you had been stuck in. It felt like you could breathe again when finally you pushed forward completely out of the fog, letting your tired arms go limp as you looked behind you at the cloud of fog. You searched for the silhouette of another boat but saw nothing. What the hell had grabbed your oar?

Turning back around and taking a deep breath, you swiped your forehead with the back of your wrist—now your body was so hot it was steaming in the cold air. Looking ahead, you could finally see the cove just a little ways away.

Glancing to either side of you, you saw nothing but black water. These waters were always dark, mostly because of the black rock and black mud, but it was completely opaque now. All you could see was reflections of the dim grey sky above you and your own face distorted in the lapping water. You wondered what was below it—something that now had your oar, certainly. Shaking your head to rid yourself of the paranoid thoughts, you rowed on to the cove.

The cove was a U-shaped island that looked like a fragmented piece of the plateau your village was on—all black, rocky shores with limited sand, a cluster of dark, woody trees behind it that shielded it from the nothingness of the sea. The shape of the U was wide enough that the cove water leading up to the center of land was deep enough for fish to live. It was the perfect fishing spot, especially the further one went into the cove so that the island’s rocks and trees surrounded them.

Finally, you got to your favorite spot tucked further into the U shape where you were surrounded by the island, and you rowed your boat carefully until it was finally still. You glanced around the island—it was a little spooky in the foggy, dark morning. The trees were blackened, fog stuck all in them. The big rocks were an even darker black from the wet morning, and where there was usually a strip of sand, there was only a bunch of pebbles and rocks that must have been pushed onto shore from the storm. Sometimes, you would sit on the sand and enjoy the quiet alone, but you couldn’t imagine sitting on all those rocky pebbles.

You set up your fishing pole and cast it into the black water, setting the pole against the side of the boat while you opened your fishnet and made it ready for fish. You had even brought a little breakfast along—a pathetic piece of bread with a slice of cheese. Holding the end of your pole between your feet, you relaxed against the boat and ate your bread and cheese.

It took a minute before you got your first bite, bringing up a thick, silvery fish out of the water and tossing it into your net before recasting your pole. You were able to get three fish before suddenly they just stopped biting.

“For fucks’ sake,” you cursed like a sailor, bringing up your pole out of the water to see that something had taken the worm off the hook, even though you didn’t feel a fish bite. “Greedy fuckers. I’m tryin’ to eat, too.” You took another worm from your bowl of bait and stuck it onto the hook.

And then you heard it again.

It was the same shrill voice, but this time, it sounded like an eerie, angelic song. You froze. The voice lilted, echoing through the trees of the cove. This time, it wasn’t just a single note—it was words you could barely make out, but they were there.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya..

Your breath hitched in your throat. You lifted your head, eyes wide, and slowly looked around, seeing nothing but the black faces of the rocks and trees looking back at you.

Ya smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

The voice was beautiful, etching out every syllable of the foreign language like poetry. It echoed over the waters in a whisper, filling your ears like honey. You held your breath. You wanted to ask who was there, who was singing, but there was a buzzing sensation through your body like fear, but something different. It was like the voice was reaching through your ears and into your brain, its angelic fingers scratching and poking and twisting your brain around until you were in a dumb daze.

It was when you noticed something in the corner of your eye that your fear came through more prominently. The water, black and opaque, to the side of your boat was rippling with motion. It wasn’t the bubbles of a fish. It wasn’t movement from your still boat. The water rippled from one end of your boat to the other, pausing between ripples like something was swimming right there. But you couldn’t see anything.

Your lungs ached as your breathing picked up, yet you stayed completely still. You watched the water ripple around the bow of your boat, and down the other side. It was circling you, and it was entirely too large to be a fish.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

The voice came again, filtering through the cove’s forest, over the rocks, right into your ears. You don’t know why, but you found yourself slowly leaning over the boat’s edge, peering into the black water that rippled as something swam below it. Your vision became hazy. Your skin felt numb all over. Your heart pounded dangerously fast.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

You barely processed the sound of something brushing the side of your boat before you felt the hard vibration of something hitting the underside of your boat, something big enough to rock it.

“Woah!” you cried out, grabbing the sides of the rocking boat. You tried to get to your feet, but something hit the underside of your boat again, and it tipped over.

You had never felt such cold. The splash of your body hitting the water, and then the water flooding your ears, deafened you like the sound of glass shattering from inside your head. It struck your entire body like lighting—pure, icy shock and arctic pain. It almost felt like your bones cracked upon impact like a frozen branch falling off a cliff.

You couldn’t move as your body sank under the freezing black water. You opened your eyes, felt the cold freeze over your eyeballs. You saw nothing at first and wondered if you were dead, or even worse, struck blind from the freezing water. When you could finally see dim light filtering through the water, as much light as the cloudy early morning could give, you realized you weren’t blind. But the water was so cold, too cold to move. You tried to move your arms and legs, but you felt stiffened, shot with pain.

As you stared into the sea of black and tried to clench your frozen muscles, you saw a shadow forming in the water beyond. You could do nothing but watch with fear as the shadow formed into an unrecognizable silhouette.

Quickly, you glanced up and could see the shadow of your boat flipped upside down on the water’s surface above you. You didn’t realize how deep down you were. Even if your body was working again, it would take a minute for you to reach your boat.

You looked back in front of you. The shadow was closer now. You attempted to flail your arms and were able to move them a little. You screamed through your closed mouth, your lungs burning for air.

The shadow came into the glare of light in the water, and your scream intensified.

It was a woman, or something like it. A woman’s head, and neck, and chest, and torso, and waist, but right where her hips stopped, something else started. Where her thighs would have been separated and covered with skin, they were welded together and covered with scales. It was some sort of a fish tail attached to where the lower half of her body should’ve been. Instead of skin and legs, she was dark red and black scales on a long tail with a finned end that gently undulated in the water to keep her floating. Her tail almost sparkled in the light. It was so dark, but you could see hints of a deep ruby color between the dark scales. Her chest was bare along with the rest of her upper body. Her hair, a dark brown with reddish tint, bowed above her head in the shape of an obsidian flame. Her arms floated beside her elegantly, and you noticed her fingertips were black.

Then there were her eyes. A deep red like the color of her tail. Too much white between the bottom curve of her pupils and her lower lashes. Darkened around the lids with some sort of black paint. Even in the darkness of the water, the red of her irises caught you. Even in the fear, there was beauty. She was haunting, and her eyes stared you down like you were her food.

A mermaid, you thought. You’d only ever heard of them when the sailors of your town made it back from faraway fishing trips. Everyone had chocked the stories up to oceanic hallucination, but now here you were, face to face with one.

And then she smiled. And her teeth were ivory white, and in the middle of where there were some human teeth, there was rows of sharp fangs like blades. Her smile was uncanny, unsettling, evil.

And then you realized she wasn’t a mermaid.

Another choked, muffled scream bellowed out from your burning chest when she darted forward. You could feel the vibrations in the water when she swished her tail in a boast of strength, her hair darting behind her as she surged forward through the water with ease. Her eyes seemed to darken.

Screaming as much as you could underwater, you suddenly found that your muscles had defrosted with your fear. You swam upwards, kicking and thrashing as much as you could, your body fatigued from the cold and the lack of oxygen. Your muscles burned and quivered as you overworked them, your lungs aching, your throat burning, vision growing dark until finally you burst above the surface, gulping down a large breath of air and several more after that.

You didn’t have much time to breathe because you became aware that the siren was still below you. Looking around, you saw that your boat had floated too far away, and the nearest place you could go was the shoreline several yards away.

Before you could make a break for the shore, you noticed how quiet everything was. The siren could have easily grabbed you by now. You tried to look into the water that splashed up on your chin, but it was still black. A soft mist came down from the bleary sky, further wetting your head.

What if she was right below your feet where they kicked obscurely in the water? What if she grabbed you and dragged you down? Just the mere thought made you start to slowly float your way towards the shore. Maybe the siren was just like a shark, and it was only sudden movement that made her attack.

You kept slowly swimming backwards, craning your head all around to get a comprehensive view of the water’s surface around you. There was nothing. No swishing of water at your feet. No ripples on the surface except the ones you caused. Not even any bubbles.

Was she gone? Had she decided you weren’t worth the trouble? Or were you just hallucinating? Maybe this was the oceanic hallucinations everyone said sailors had. Maybe all that fog had made you paranoid.

Your body was rocking with how icy the water was, though you just felt numb now. You looked behind you at the island, wondering if you could seek shelter in the trees until someone came looking for you, or maybe you could make some sort of flotation device out of something. That was silly. Your best bet would be to go back to your boat and hand-paddle your way back home.

As you turned your head back around towards the direction of your boat, you gasped and froze.

There the siren was. Only the upper half of her head was above the water. You saw her hair, much more reddish now in the light, slick to her head. Her forehead, speckled with droplets of water. Her red eyes that seemed to reflect a glare of red on the surface of the water in front of her. Beyond that, only the bridge of her nose, the end of it under the surface. She was completely still, as if she was standing on flat ground. She was only maybe two feet away from you.

“P-p-p-p,” you tried to speak, but your body was convulsing from the cold, your lips numb and blue. “Please,” you whispered in a croak. It was getting hard to breathe as the harsh cold invaded your blood. You were begging for your life because, in the haze of your hypothermia, you recognized those eyes.

You’d heard stories from the village sailors about a particular siren. You’d seen her image sketched in books. Always those red eyes, that red tail. This wasn’t a mermaid, and she wasn’t just a siren. She was the deadliest ocean creature that all the myths and legends described. She’d instilled fear in children of your parent’s and even your grandparent’s generations just through stories of her malice. She commanded every corner of the seas, and sailors who were superstitious enough always kept an eye out for her during their voyages, lest she take them down.

She wasn’t a mermaid. She wasn’t just a siren.

She was the Scarlet Siren.

Somehow, she knew you recognized her. Maybe it was the look on your face, or the way you froze. She stretched her lips open in a charming yet malicious smile. And then slowly, inch by inch, she slipped under the water.

Letting out a choked scream, you quickly turned back towards the shore and started to swim. Your heart felt like it was going to rip right out of your chest if the Scarlet Siren didn’t do it first.

When you were halfway towards the shore, thrashing the water and letting out choked breaths, you suddenly felt hands grab your ankles and yank you beneath the surface.

You thrashed under the water, your long hair coming undone and floating around your face as you watched the Scarlet Siren come closer to you. You kicked at her so hard that your shoes came off your feet, your foot hitting her tail and feeling the fishy scales there.

The Siren’s hands were climbing up your body, grabbing at your coat and pulling it off as you spiraled in the water, trying to get out of her hold. Finally, you were able to kick her tail hard enough that the force sent you popping above the surface like a fish. You were able to take one gasp of air before she pulled you right back down again.

This time, the Siren growled and nosedived towards your waist, her teeth clamping down on the fabric of your shirt. You squealed as she ripped your shirt off with her teeth, the fabric so easily tearing. The blades of her teeth had caught the skin of your belly, four long scratches bleeding through your pale skin, the blood clouding in the water. The Siren paused at the sight of your blood diffusing in the water, distracted enough for you to kick her in the face so hard that she turned downwards in the water.

You took your chance to swim, popping up through the surface and pushing yourself harder than ever. The shore was right in front of you. Your body ached and the skin of your stomach stung, but you kept going until finally your fingers touched black rock.

Coughing up water, you lifted your body onto the pebbly surface, the blood from the scratches finally able to drip down your skin, the red following the lines of water on your waist. You flopped onto your back and pulled yourself more onto the shore.

You knew it wasn’t over. The Siren’s head popped out of the water, and her hands grabbed your ankles again. You cried out and tried to kick, but she held your legs down as she lifted herself completely out of the water.

You watched the Scarlet Siren crawl over you, her strong arms planting down in the rocks on either side of your head, entrapping you. The shockingly heavy weight of her tail crushed your legs down on the rock, the smell of ocean filling your nostrils. It felt like the end of your life. You thought to yourself, as the Siren laid herself over you, that this was what rabbits felt like with dogs. This is what lambs felt like with lions. Birds with cats. Fish with fishermen. Sailors with sirens.

“Now, what’s a pretty girl like yourself doing all alone out on these waters, hmm?” Her voice was shockingly heavenly, smooth like butter and sweet like a bird’s song. It caught you off guard and somehow made you more afraid. There was also some sort of foreign accent laced in her words, somewhat Slavic. How could a monster like herself look so beautiful and sound so sweet?

You could only make incoherent noises as you watched the Siren’s tail start to morph. It ripped itself apart, and the scales sunk inwards, and the flesh shaped itself into the shape of a human woman’s legs, and pale skin etched itself over them. She was now the sight of a fully human woman, naked and lain over you, except for her razor teeth and red demonic eyes and murderous intent.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked more seriously, her eyes flickering over you. Her underwater tactics left you in only a brassiere and fisherman pants.

You were shaking from the cold, but her body felt surprisingly warm on yours. Fear had overcome you, leaving you dumb and pathetic.

“Please d-don’t kill me,” you cried, tears rushing down your cheeks.

“You didn’t answer me, detka,” she continued calmly, bringing a hand to your chin and holding it. Her skin felt inhumanly smooth. “Do you know who I am?”

Breathing heavily, you squeezed your eyes shut. “The S-Scarlet Siren.”

The Siren puckered her lips. “What a demeaning term. My scales are more maroon, don’t you think? My name is Wanda.” She paused, pressing the pad of her thumb into the dimple on your chin. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

You didn’t answer. She trailed her hand down your stomach, smearing the blood there before she grabbed hold of your pants. Sitting back on her knees, she started to yank them down. Instinctively, you fought her, trying to kick her away.

“Stop!” you screamed loud enough that a few birds from the forest cawed and fluttered. The Siren pursed her lips and used her strength to pull your pants off, but you flopped onto your stomach like a fish and started frantically crawling away.

“Stop it, human,” she growled, grabbing the back of your thighs and dragging you back down the rocks. Using the opportunity, she ripped the last of your clothing off, your brassiere, and threw it to the side. Grabbing you by your wet hair, she turned you back onto your back and lowered down. You were face-to-face with her now, about to try and push her off until she opened her mouth.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

It was the song you’d heard earlier, before your boat tipped. But as she sang it this time, that buzzing feeling within you grew stronger. Her honey-like voice lilted in your ears as she sang, and you found yourself leaning upwards. Her red eyes, glowing now, watched you tremble as you weakly lifted yourself, your own eyes growing wide as she entranced you. You were very easy for her.

Smiling through her song, she snaked her arm under your waist and easily lifted you up, pressing your bare body to hers. You were so cold against her, so feeble and weak. Your eyes trained on her lips, your irises glowing red from her magic flowing within you. She could feel your mind breaking down, letting her in, growing weaker and weaker. Finally, you closed your eyes and leaned up to kiss her. The Siren held your head with her large hand and kissed you softly, her lips smooth and slippery.

Her song was how she got her victims, but her kiss was how she trapped them. You were under her will now.

Breaking the kiss slowly, the Siren laid you gently back down on the rock. “It’s much easier when you’re calmer, detka. Now, tell me your name.”

“Y/n,” you whispered inaudibly, but the Siren’s ears were trained enough to hear you.

“Y/n,” she repeated in her lilting voice, smiling with her sharp teeth. “You’re the prettiest one I’ve ever caught, y/n.”

Her eyes raked down your limp body that she held in her arm, her free hand pressing against the bloody scratches on your tummy. She gathered some of your blood on her blackened finger and lifted it up to her mouth, sucking your blood off her long finger. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head like a reptile.

Though you felt paralyzed, there was still some consciousness left in your head. You were starting to realize that there was a reason sailors didn’t let their women on their boats, and that the reason was hovering over you.

“You’re right, beautiful girl,” she purred, “But don’t even think about those other human women. You’re the best one of them all.” Her voice had an edge of malice, and it was sickening to hear it through the sweet, complimentary tone.

Her red eyes flickered back to the scratches on your tummy, and she leaned down, letting her long, snaky tongue slither out of her mouth and onto the scratches, licking up your blood. Her breath fanned over the expanse of your stomach, covered in goosebumps. Her hands gripped either side of your ribcage as she grazed her mouth over your stomach, landing on a spot off to the side before digging her teeth into your flesh.

“Ah!” you screamed out, feeling all the blades of her teeth stab into you. She let go, revealing a bloody bite mark on your torso.

“So sweet and fresh,” she growled.

A particular wave of water came up aggressively onto the shore, rolling over her ankles and causing scales to appear before the water receded and human skin covered it again.

The Siren moved to your chest, her large hand grabbing one of your tits and squeezing while she rolled her long, thin tongue over your nipple, her siren eyes flashing up at you. You squirmed, whimpering from the pain but also from another uncontrollable emotion. You were entranced by her, under her will, and had no control over any feeling she gave you emotionally or physically.

Moving her mouth to your other breast, she sunk her teeth into the mound of flesh, causing you to cry out again. You attempted to lift your arms to fight back, but she quickly snatched them and pinned them to the sharp rocks.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

She sang again, her voice filling you as she gave you more bites between each lyric, blood now dripping down your sides. You were dizzy, from the blood or the trance or the entire situation, and helpless. Your blood was smeared across the entire lower half of her face, dripping from her chin, staining her razor teeth as she grinned. It was so strange, seeing a monstrous look on such a seductive, beautiful woman.

When the Siren glided her tongue down the center of your stomach, you felt a twitch within you. When her hands gripped your hips and scratched downward, coming to grab your tender thighs and spread them open, you obliged. You felt hotter now, as if steam would start rising out of your body into the cold air. There were already billows of fog coming out of your lips with each breath.

“Such a delicate angel,” the Siren purred at you as she lowered her body down. As she settled her elbows over your thighs, her legs tucked back into the water. The waves gushed over her bottom and onto her lower back, and when it receded, she had a tail again, halfway resting in the water, the crimson fin on the very end flipping up in the water instinctively.

You were naked, bleeding on the rocks, being overtaken by a Siren, the Scarlet Siren no less, but you felt overcome with a pleasurable sensation. It was a mix between drunken and sexual as the Siren licked her tongue over your thighs.

When she had you to a point of gyrating your hips for her, she finally put her mouth over your core, sucking on your sensitive nub immediately. You cried out, grabbing onto rocks as she suckled on you, causing arousal to already slowly gush out of you.

Her tongue was long and thin and bumpy, so when she lapped it over your slit and then pushed it deep inside you, you nearly went blind. She snaked her tongue in and out of her, her hands grabbing your thighs harshly as she forced your legs open wider, moaning onto your clit. She seemed hungry, ravenous, as she devoured you, and you felt the terrifying hardness of the very edge of her teeth almost hitting your sensitive skin every once in a while. You could tell that she had done this before, and you wondered what number you were going to be in the list of women she had killed.

“Ah!” you cried out, feeling yourself coming close already. The feeling was something entirely different, and before you knew it, you were clenching around her tongue and crying out, your body arching off the rocks.

“So delicious,” the Siren hissed when she retracted her tongue, staying where she was between your legs while you panted and squirmed. “And so tight.”

Without warning, she placed four fingers in a row at your entrance. You swallowed hard, your consciousness breaking through a little to fight back by thrashing around. You tried to close your legs, but she was amazingly strong.

The Scarlet Siren opened her mouth to sing her song, and you relaxed involuntarily. You could only scream when she forced four of her fingers into you. The pain was dizzying, along with all the blood you’d lost, and you were halfway unconscious as she stretched your cunt out around her fingers, forcing you to take all four of her unnaturally long digits. Your walls resisted, but she kept thrusting, lapping up any arousal and blood along the way. She bit into your thigh, rubbed her face in the wound and curled her fingers inside you, watching you tremble and squirm dumbly.

You finally started to come to when the pain went away, pleasure taking over. The stretch felt otherworldly, her tongue flicking your clit and lapping at it, fingers pumping deep and hard into you so that it was all you could feel. Besides the gentle waves of the water near you, all you could hear was the squelching noises that she committed on you. She devoured you and fucked you eagerly, hungrily, like an animal, becoming more and more carnal the more she had of you.

When your second climax crashed over you and you convulsed uncontrollably, whimpering and screaming and thrashing, the Siren chuckled victoriously between your thighs.

When the climax left you, your body dropped limp on the rocks. Your vision went blurry, and all you could see was red eyes hovering over you staring at you, and the dark crimson of blood on her face.

“You did so good, detka,” she lilted, caressing your cheek with her soft hand. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Fortunately for you, you could feel nothing but bliss. It was the Siren’s entrancement on you that made you feel heavenly as she took hold of one of your ankles and dragged you into the water like a dead fish, swimming away into the black and taking you with her.

Your abandoned boat still floated upside down a ways off from the shore. The cloud of fog was still on the sea’s surface, crowding into the cove. The water washed away your blood from the rocks.

[loulovingho]

Can you please do a hurt/comfort Eddie + Tommy friendship with Bucktommy - Tommy gets hurt in some way (mentally/physically/sick/etc) and Eddie helps him until Buck can get there

you gave me a reason to finish the fic I started earlier today! thank you!

His teeth were chattering. Had been since he woke up after hitting the ground.

He didn't hurt anywhere, which was never a good sign.

He laid there, surrounded by trees. Cold, wet leaves underneath his body. He could hear crickets and frogs all around him. Could smell smoke somewhere nearby.

There were distinct sounds of metal creaking mixed in with nature.

Slowly, he moved his head to the right, then to the left.

Fire.

It was about fifty yards away. Thankfully, due to the recent rain, the fire was contained to the helicopter that had so gracefully fallen out of the sky.

He wasn't sure how he ended up so far from it. Had no memory of being ejected or jumping or whatever happened that made it so he wasn't inside those flames.

He lifted his hands to his face, could barely see them as the sun set below the trees. He was sure there was blood. Dirt, mud, leaves, and blood.

They shook so fiercely he wasn't sure how he had any control over them at all.

His breathing was labored, heart beating rapidly. No matter what he tried, he couldn't seem to calm himself down.

Suddenly, in the distance, he heard something.

People talking.

Not just people, familiar people.

Family.

“H- Here,” he barely managed to get out, figuring they'd be running toward the fire instead of him. He cleared his throat, tried again. “Here! I'm here!”

The talking stopped, then there was running.

He could feel the pounding of the footsteps as they approached.

“Hey, we gotcha, Buddy!”

“Howie?”

“Yeah, it's me. Saving your ass, once again.”

Hands were on him now. Lights shining in his eyes, causing him to squint. He could hear others talking. Hen, Eddie, Bobby. Couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

Chimney had him focus on him. “Can you tell me your name?” he asked.

“T- Tommy,” he answered. God, he wished he could stop shaking. He couldn't barely get out a word.

“Year?”

“2024.”

“Best paramedic you know?”

“Hen,” Tommy replied, choking out a laugh.

“Hey now!” Chimney exclaimed, mocking offense.

“I knew I liked you,” Hen said with a smile. She patted him on the shoulder before getting back to work.

Chimney chomped on his gum a couple times before asking his next question. “Can you wiggle your toes for me, Tommy?”

Tommy shook his head. He lifted his arm, tried to pull Chimney closer to him so he could whisper. “I c- can't feel anything,” he paused, sucked in a shaky breath, “b- below my waist.” He knew what this meant, and he also knew he was in shock. The adrenaline pumping through him was the only thing keeping him remotely alert.

Chimney nodded, sharing a glance with Hen. “Cervical collar for our dashing pilot here, please, Hen.”

“Already on it.”

“Ho- Howie?”

“Yeah, Buddy?”

“Ev- Evan?”

“Buck went home early today,” Eddie answered, moving into Chimney's place so he could do whatever work needed to be done. “Chief is cracking down on overtime, so he had to be sent home.”

“We've... We've been sa- saving f- for the wedding,” he explained, although he wasn't sure why. Everyone there already knew that.

Eddie took Tommy's hand and wrapped it up in his own. “You were probably already up in the air when Buck sent you the text complaining about being sent home.”

“He'd say... He'd say th- the chief didn't want us t- to have the good hors d'oeuvres.”

Eddie nodded, tried putting on a smile. “He did mention that on his way out.”

Tommy squeezed Eddie's hand. “We m- might have to re... reschedule.” His lip trembled at the thought, tears welling in his eyes. Evan was so excited for the wedding. Had been working diligently and meticulously on every detail since they got engaged in October. He wanted a winter wedding, and didn't want to wait another whole year, so February it would be. With it being December now, Tommy didn't see any way he'd be able to fully recover by then.

If he did at all.

“Let's not worry about that right now, alright, Man? I don't think Buck will care when the wedding is, as long as there is one. Let's focus on that, okay?”

Tommy nodded. Blinked a few times to rid himself of the tears.

A few fell anyway.

“Ed- Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do I... Do I still have my legs?”

“You certainly do, Kinard,” Bobby interrupted. Tommy wasn't sure how long the captain had been on his other side. Bobby gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “You've got all your limbs right where they should be. You ready to move now, Kid?”

Tommy could've laughed at the nickname. He'd been called that by Bobby a couple of times, many years ago. It'd been a long while since then.

He nodded. “Ready.”

Eddie didn't let go of his hand as they lifted him and began carrying him to the ambulance. Tommy was a bit surprised. He didn't remember ever being moved onto the spine board. Hadn't felt a thing.

A part of him had wondered if they'd even been working on him during that time. That maybe Eddie was the chosen distraction until he drifted off and his breathing stopped.

He was glad to know he was wrong.

*****

Bobby drove them to the hospital, with Eddie staying in the back beside him. It was a bit cramped with him, Eddie, Chimney, and Hen all back there together, but the fact he was surrounded by these people made him feel a bit more comforted.

Tommy looked over to where his and Eddie's hands were still tightly gripped together. He wasn't sure if Eddie was refusing to let him go, or if he was refusing to let Eddie go. Didn't really matter either way. He needed something to keep him tethered to reality.

He shook his wrist back and forth a few times to get Eddie's attention. “Can you... Can you call Evan? Please?”

“Of course,” Eddie replied, grabbing his phone out of his pocket with his free hand.

“You've got some cuts on your arms, Tommy,” Hen explained as Eddie pressed Buck's name. “We're gonna work on those on the way to the hospital, so you might feel some stings, okay?”

“Yeah. That's okay.”

Eddie put the phone on speaker and Buck answered on the third ring. “What's wrong?”

“Buck-”

“Who is it, Eddie? I just left work an hour ago. Is it Bobby? Hen? Chim?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “B- Baby.”

Silence.

Then.

“Tommy? Is that you?”

“Had a... a little accident.”

“What hospital?”

“The usual,” Eddie replied.

“I'm heading there now.”

“Evan? Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, wanting to get his attention before he got in the car and started to drive.

“I'm here, Tommy,” he answered. “I'm gonna meet you at the hospital.”

“I don't wanna... wanna scare you,” Tommy said, and he could feel the tears burning his eyes again. “I can't. I can't feel my legs.”

“He's stabilized,” Chimney added quickly, before Buck could ask. “Likely a lower spinal cord injury.”

Another pause, followed by a quiet. “Okay. Okay.”

“He's doing well, Buck,” Eddie reassured him. “We're all right here with him. He won't shut up about you, like always.”

Tommy smiled. He hoped Evan did as well.

“Feeling's mutual,” Buck replied. His voice was softer now. Tommy knew the words were meant to keep him focused and thinking positively.

It worked.

“Need you t- to be safe.”

“I will, Baby. I'll drive safe and I'll be at the hospital as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay. L- Love you.”

“I love you, too. So damn much, T- Tommy.”

Tommy wasn't sure who hung up first, but he could tell by the way Evan's voice wavered at the end that he was probably close to falling apart.

“Thank you,” Tommy said as Eddie put his phone back into his pocket.

“Whatever you need, Bud, I'm here.”

“Just... Just keep ho- holding my hand.”

Eddie nodded, squeezed a little tighter. “I can do that.”

[velvetreds]

DESTINY — O. MIYA

cws; swearing, gn?reader, just fluff...!

wc; 713

osamu miya.

he's the type to cook for you, always. like, regardless of how well you can cook, or how different your schedules are.

"what time will you be up?" he asks.

"6:15."

and he'll be there cooking your breakfast already.

that's not to say you don't experience lazy mornings, either, when osamu has his arms wrapped loosely around you, and your legs are tangled together. when sometimes you talk about everything, and other times you talk about nothing, and he kisses your shoulder and you kiss his hands. he's warm, too, warm enough that you're kicking the covers off yourself and scooting away from him once you're awake enough. he's undeterred, though, following you around like a determined puppy until you finally give in and let him pull you back into his chest.

he's the type to absolutely smush your cheeks together when he kisses them; he definitely loves kissing your cheeks. he also loves nose kisses!!! he adores your nose — your everything, really, he just loves you a lot.

he loves chauffeuring you around, like hell YEAH he's your man and he will do everything for you. on slower days, he probably like, drives with one hand and uses the other to hold on to your hand or just rests it on your thigh.

speaking of which! this man is HUGE on physical contact. it's nothing too showy, and it doesn't really matter if you're in public or not. like, he ALWAYS holds your hand, everywhere! or has a pinky hooked around yours if you can't do that! OR OR OR when it's cold, he holds your hand and tucks it into his pocket along with his own.

adding onto the when will you wake up thing, when the two of you didn't live together he'd make sure he was awake before you so you could see a good morning text when you woke up, whether you woke up super early or super late.

when osamu falls in love, he falls so fucking hard. this man gets you flowers and keeps one for himself so he knows when to get you new ones. he buys you coffee every day and has a picture of you in his wallet, and a polaroid in his phone case. when you start living together, he writes you stupid lovey dovey notes and sticks them around everywhere. he even does the notes app thing and he knows everything you like. his wallpaper and lockscreen are both pictures of you, and he unironically has an i love my partner tshirt. probably more than one, if i'm being honest.

he lazes around in bed with you when you want, and has all your favourite movies downloaded everywhere, just in case. want to watch a new movie? he's bought the tickets before you even ask. he takes you to libraries and bookstores, and he dances with you in the rain, and goes on walks with you, and he's just so perfect, even when he's not. and he thinks — no, he knows you're perfect, even if you think otherwise.

he's SO good at comforting you. if you don't want to talk, that's okay! he'll hold you until you feel better, or until you're ready to tell him. or he can distract you with the stupidest small talk, if that's what you need. and he knows exactly what to say, always. he understands you, in silence and frustration and grief and pain. when you're okay, and when you're not. and whatever happens, he's always there for you.

and he's not a poet, and all he really knows is volleyball and cooking, but he swears you're some sort of wizard, because everything you do and everything you say is magic, and he's never been more enamoured by anyone, ever. if love is a person, it's you.

he's never believed in soulmates, but he knows he's made for you, made to love you, made to be yours. he's never really believed in things like fate either, but if he's destined to spend the rest of his life like this, with you, he thinks he could learn to live with it. but that's a lie, really, because he's not just okay with it. he's actually so fucking down to have you as his forever.

WSG UR FAVOURITE ACADEMIC WEAPON WITH THE COOLEST CHILLEST MOM EVER HAS POSTED rubs hands together evilly PLEASE LIKE FOLLOW REBLOG AND OR COMMENT IF YOU LIKE IT REALLY MEANS A LOT TO ME!!!

[ateotd-izzy]

rainstorms | stiles stilinski x fem!reader

summary: it’s the middle of the night and you wake up due to the heavy rainstorm outside, and after you get up, your boyfriend can’t really sleep on his own.

warnings: none, just sleepy stiles

☾

you were woken up in the early hours of the morning by the sound of rain pattering against the window.

a few moments of lying awake made you shiver (that was because stiles was hogging the blanket) and realize how thirsty you were.

so, with a sigh, you slipped out from under the little amount of blanket you had (thanks, stiles) and let your legs drop over the side of his bed.

one leg of your grey sweatpants had hiked up your leg so it was rolled up to your shin and you fixed that before standing up.

the floor was cold against your bare feet as you slowly and quietly exited stiles' bedroom, careful not to disturb your sleeping boyfriend and his adorable snores.

you made it through the dark house and to the kitchen, where you got yourself a glass of water.

it was still raining heavily outside and you smiled at the sound as you headed back to stiles' room with your cup.

you opened the bedroom door and your eyes drifted over to the bed immediately. stiles was lying on his stomach, eyes closed, mouth open and one arm draped across the bed where you were lying before.

you smiled to yourself. he was so adorable.

you watched as more rain drops hit his window and it started thundering. you saw a flash of lightning and immediately walked over to the window and staring out at the dark night outside.

it was calming. watching as the rain stormed outside as you sipped your water at 3 in the morning.

you were so distracted that you didn't even hear the creak of the bed as stiles got up and walked up behind you.

"what're you doing up?" he mumbled, his arms finding their way around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, his face buried into your neck from behind.

"the rain woke me up." you answered, leaning your head against his ever-so slightly. "and i was thirsty."

"what time is it?"

"it's 3 am."

he pulled his head up to look at you. "you're a psychopath to be up at this time, i swear."

his voice was raspy and all a big mumble. he was clearly still half asleep.

"sure, buddy."

"crazy woman." he shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning against your shoulder again. "look at you, just watching the rain."

"it's nice, stiles."

"sleep is also nice." one of his hands moved from its place on your stomach and connected with yours. he tugged lightly. "please sleep."

"in a minute." you sipped your water again.

"it's so cold."

"then go back to bed."

"i'm not gonna go without you." he whispered, kissing the back of your neck. "i hate sleeping alone, you know that."

you took one last long sip of your water until it was all gone. you turned your body and walked back towards the bed with stiles, placing the cup on his nightstand.

stiles practically dropped onto his bed before rolling back into his place. he pulled the blankets over himself and patted the spot on the bed next to him for you.

you did lie down, except horizontally across the bed, rather than vertically. your head found its place, using stiles' chest as a pillow and he chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering shut.

"what are you doing?"

"sleeping."

"stop being a dork and lie down properly," he wrapped one arm across your chest. "dork."

"stiles, don't complain because you're a good pillow."

"yeah, but how am i supposed to cuddle you — or move for that matter — if i'm stuck like this?" he asked, his words still a jumble of nonsense.

"okay, fine, you win." you sighed playfully. you were already going to move, you didn't like the feeling of your legs hanging over the side of the bed.

you adjusted your position so you were lying next to him properly. he gave you a dumb smile in return.

"i love you." he whispered, still smiling, just now with his eyes shut again.

"i know."

his eyes shot open quickly.

"you didn't—"

"good night, stiles."

"hey." he glared slightly. "you gotta say it back."

"why?"

"because i need validation. tell me you love me."

you chuckled softly, pulling the blanket over yourself and moving closer to stiles, placing a light kiss on his lips.

"i love you too, you big nerd."

"thank you." he closed his eyes and held you as close to him as humanly possible. "now i'll see you in about... seven hours when i decide to wake up."

"good night, stiles."

"wait, what if—"

"good night, stiles."

"yep, good night." he peeked his eyes open. "going back to sleep now."

you chuckled and shook your head, lying down and closing your own eyes.

"what if i can't go back to sleep?" he asked after about a minute of silence and you groaned. "okay, well you woke me up."

"and you're the one who dragged me back to bed to sleep, stiles, not talk."

"touché."

a/n: just a little one shot from my wattpad that i felt like putting on here

[bunbunlovestowrite]

-Sugar and Salt

A/N: Sylus fluff based on the poll results! :3

Cw: Slight cursing, Sylus smacks your ass twice, Reader is not MC, Fem!Reader, explicit references to sex

Waking up next to Sylus wasn't super comfortable. Nothing was wrong exactly but you always woke up on his bare chest which was, in case you haven't noticed, hard as a rock. Every morning with no fail.

Yes you love your husband and he loves you, he wouldn't wear his ring all the time if he didn't, but he was not a good pillow.

-

The sound of thunder is what woke you up that morning, that and a pain in your neck. You grumble and try to sit up but fail when Sylus' forearm kept you down. He was still asleep under you and his head was turned to the side.

You blink slowly and huff against his chest, your cheek pressed right between his pecs. It had been like this ever since your first ever night together. You were embarrassed the day after and couldn't look him in the eye while he enjoyed the feeling. You were kinda like a weighted blanket that enjoyed nibbling on people while she slept.

Even now, more than a year later, you still manage to end up here.

"Wake up." You say as you try to poke his cheek but Sylus grabbed your wrist, eyes still closed. You knew he'd do that. You got the drop on him once and he never let it down.

"Good morning to you too." His chest rumbled under your cheek as he spoke. He brought his limp arm up and rubbed his eye, groaning. "One day I won't know it's you and I might break your wrist." He slowly brought your wrist to his lips and he kissed it, his eyes shutting for a few seconds.

"Oo that'd be a great way to guilt trip you into buying me stuff." You giggle softly as you cup his cheek with your hand. Sylus huffed and bit your palm lightly, eyes glancing at you. "I already do that, sweetie."

He tilted his head at your giggle and pulled you higher on his chest so that your face was above his. "Pet names so early in the morning? My my you must really love me." You flip your hair dramatically and Sylus felt the ego radiate off you.

"No, I just married you for fun and I was bored." He rolled his eyes and lightly smacked your ass which made you jump with a yelp. He chuckled and kissed your cheek. You huff and cross your arms on his chest before laying your head on them.

"Yes well, I married you because I was broke. Well, my reasoning actually changed." You smirk again in early triumph. Your attempts to make him mad never worked. Sylus rubbed his hand up and down your back, the blanket stopped just before your ass.

"Oh yeah? What's the new reason?"

"Mediocre dick."

That is what ticked Sylus off. He scowled slightly and yanked your hair back slightly. "Mediocre? Well if that's what you call you squirting on my cock multiple times then I need to see what good dick is." He smirked at your muffled moan when he pulled your hair slightly harder. "Maybe take a few notes."

"No, no that's fine." You whisper through your teeth as you try not to moan. Sylus chuckles and releases your hair. "Cute attempt."

The thunder outside got worse and rain pounded on the roof. "Ugh, it's gonna get cold in here." You grumble while playing with Sylus' hair. He let you do as you wished while he rubbed your sides subconsciously.

"You have like 12 blankets on your side of the bed. I hope you know the light pink pillows look very out of place." Sylus motioned his thumb to your side of the bed which was cluttered with blankets and pillows.

"Not my fault you're fine with two thin pillows. Maybe that's why you're always so salty~" You poke his nose while you tease him, grinning at his scowl. Sylus furrowed his brows and rolled his eyes. "Oh shut it."

Sylus rolled on his side and took you with him, holding you against his chest. "We need to get up soon."

"nuh uh."

"You cant just say nuh uh at everything."

"yuh huh."

--

This is my third attempt at fluff in my lifetime :') sorry if it's not the best <3

[reidmania]

ethereal | s.reid

summary; spencer is in love with a girl who is in love with the world

warnings; fem reader, reader loves nature, spencer is so in love, they go camping, pretty much pure fluff tbh, i think 'angel' is used, reader is mentioned growing up going camping and being around nature, established relationships.

an; fluff. this is self indulgent bc all i want is to go camping. its really bad. i think i need it. i miss going every weekend. 1.4k words. Its one am and i felt the need to post this. goodnight my loves.

Spencer learnt very early on in your relationship that the love you had for the outdoors was very similar to the love he had for you.

Except, in an odd way – this small fact only made him love you more. You never shied away from the environment you were in; regardless of what environment it was. Whether it was on a (in his opinion) stupidly long hike on a way too hot day, the grin on your face remained the same as it did while watching the sunset on the beach on a warm summer night, when you opted on walking home at the end of the day with him rather than driving, the way you’d coo at babies, or smile at elderly people walking past. You were so intrigued by the world around you, Spencer was so intrigued with you. 

 You loved nature, you could name a flower on a walk quicker than he could, an animal hidden in the bushes; or you would ask him about whatever it was you needed to know that day, then listen curiously as he rambled about it. He had started reading more books about nature, just so when you asked, he had an answer.

Spencer loved you, more than words could ever explain. There was not a series of words in any language that could articulate the way he felt for you, and he had spent a lot of time looking for one. You loved nature. You embodied the beauty of it, and he loved you, just like you loved him. Spencer wasn’t the biggest fan of nature, not in the slightest. He could appreciate the beauty of the waterfall at the end of the hike, but in no way did he consider it worth the forty five minutes of uphill walking and the sweating. However, The smile on your face and the love in your eyes when you saw the waterfall at the end of the hike? Well that was worth it.

He had agreed to go camping with you. He had never been camping  before, but when you mumbled about how you really really wanted to go, and then rambled about how lately you couldn’t stop thinking about it – Spencer couldn’t say no, not when you subconsciously pouted at nothing when you remembered that you weren’t camping, instead in the middle of the city, curled up in a warm bed wrapped in his arms.

That's how he ended up in this position, camping out in the middle of nowhere. He had taken time off work for this, and he had yet to decide whether he loved or hated it. The greenery was easy to fall in love with, that, he understood. Large trees surrounding you everywhere, as if a barrier of different shades of deep greens to shield you away from the rest of the world.

You had picked a spot you knew well enough, oak trees surrounding, the ground covered in tall grass, bushes and flowers. Pinks and whites highlighted throughout the deep greens of the bushes. The ground where you had decided to set up the tent while the sun begun to set, flat, dirt.

He hated the fact that last night he was sleeping on an uncomfortable inflatable mattress, cold, listening to the rain pattern against the thin material of the tent, hyper aware of all the possible animals around. However, he loved the way you gasped in excitement when you saw bunnies running past in the warm orange light of the fire at night, or how you woke him up while it was still dark outside just because you wanted to watch the sunrise with him.

It was freezing, way too cold. Spencer knew a future with you, meant a future with more camping. He was okay with that, as long as next time it was not in the middle of winter. He had tugged the material of his sweater tighter around his body, hand gripping yours tightly seeking out the warmth you provided as you led him down a dirt road path. It was still dark outside, and after walking for a whole five minutes, still half asleep and groggy, Spencer began to question whether you actually knew where you were going.

“Angel” He murmured, tugging you closer by the grip he had on your hand, pausing his walking in the middle of the road. Not that it mattered, there were no cars around. There was nobody around. That, he liked. It was just you and him. Your footsteps stopped only moments after his, letting him pull you in closer as you turned your body so you were facing him. The only light, the setting moonlight.

You huffed a little, it made him smile sleepily. “Spence, we are gonna miss the sunrise if we stop” You argued, your hand squeezing around his. His heart warmed when you looked at him, slightly pleading him not to complain about this. He might of complained about a few things, the mud stuck to his shoes while trying to help you set up the tent, (Which you did most of anyways, after saying he would be better suited for glamping, which was less your style,) the bugs around that made him scratch at his arms, (Before you argued that if he had just used the bug repellent you suggest he wouldn’t have that issue) and the cold, when he complained about the cold you didn’t argue back, instead you’d just tug him closer to you.

So he complained about the cold a lot.

“Miss the sunrise? I- It's like three in the morning!” His voice went up an octave in complaint, yet full of fondness as he brought your intertwined hands to his chest, which meant you were closer. It was easier to see you when you were closer, also warmer. Maybe he just liked having you close.

You laughed, he found the sound so sweet it made his chest ache. “It's nearly five. The new moon is rising and it's getting lighter. We are almost there. I promise – Pinky promise, it will be worth it” You said, leaning up to press your lips against his cheek before tugging your intertwined hands together as you continued walking. Spencer couldn’t argue. Instead he trailed next to you. He was glad it wasn’t bright yet, in a strange way. You couldn’t see the way his smile widened when you swung your intertwined hands as you led him down the path.

He didn’t know how much longer the two of you were walking before. Long enough that the sky had lightened enough to make everything around you a bit more viewable, before he could find his voice to complain again, the shoreline came into view, over a set of sanded over wooden steps that looked like they would break any moment, however when you wordlessly walked down them, tugging him along with maybe the biggest smile he had ever seen on your face, well he followed despite the unease in his stomach.

They didn’t break. He silently thanked the above for that. If he had muttered his worry aloud, you would’ve told him you had walked down those steps a million other times, told him he worried too much then planted another kiss on his cheek. 

You trailed down the beach to a spot. The sand was almost perfectly white. When you stopped and shoved your feet into the sand, silently looking out over the waterline, where the sun had begun to rise over the horizon, watching as pretty shades of pinks and yellows shaped the sky. Spencer understood why you had decided against wearing shoes when leaving the campsite, despite his half asleep mutter about the dangers of it. 

This was your life, this was what you knew, this was what you loved.

“I love you” He spoke, breaking the carefully crafted silence of the beach. The tide was coming in, the only other noise being the waves crashing carefully. His gaze was fixated on you, while yours was on the sight in front of you. This was worth the early mornings, and freezing cold, the long walk and the worries about old wooden staircases.

Not because of the sight, but because of you, curled up in one of his knitted sweaters, despite the fact you had your own, probably warmer and much more suited for the cold weather of camping, you chose to wear his, holding on tightly to his hand. He knew you spent your childhood camping here, he knew everything he loved so dearly about you was created by the place you grew up, the place that made you, you. That was here. He loved you, and he loved it here – despite his complaints.

You turned your gaze away from the sunrise, turning to look over your shoulder. When your eyes met his, he was pretty sure the amount of love and affection in his heart was growing so much it was starting to cause him physical pain. He didn’t mind, not when you were looking at him. “I love you too.” You said, before tugging his hand to pull him to stand next to you. His hand dropped from yours, instead wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he shifted to stand behind you. Your back to his chest, his chin on your shoulder. 

It was colder near the ocean, yet he was pretty sure he had never felt more warm.

likes, reblog’s & comments are always appreciated

[deantfwinchester]

Neighborhood Walgreens

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader like always

This one takes place before the other two timeline-wise, I guess - just a few months into knowing each other. No established relationship, and some ridiculous flirting.

Summary: A busy, sick Joel gets a little care from the people in his life - including the neighbor and friend he's been crushing on for the past few months.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff-fluffity-fluff. Bout to get a standing root canal appointment, tbh.

A/N: The bulleted fics are piling up in the notes app, but boy are the well-crafted girlies a bit of a trek. More to come, if the functioning part of my brain has anything to say about it.

Word Count: 5.9k. absolute unit.

——————————————————————————————

Joel wakes up feeling like shit. He’d felt a bit of a scratch in his throat the night before, but tried to write it off as allergies or something - until he woke himself up coughing before his alarm could even go off. He knows he has a cold the second he tries to breathe through his nose - no dice. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it’s pounding before he can open his eyes. He shivers when he moves the blankets aside to get up, and each muscle in his body begs him to crawl back into bed.

Ever the trooper, he rises anyway, heading to the bathroom and checking the medicine cabinet to find what he’d feared - no cold medicine. Awesome. Resigning himself to trucking through the day, he blows his nose, pops a couple tylenol, and gets ready. His respiratory system isn’t too fond of the assault, however, and he’s coughing up a lung before he can finish. Today should be fun. He’ll need to stop by the drugstore on his way home. 

Once he’s dressed for the day (trying his best to look alive), Joel trudges down the stairs to see Sarah at the kitchen table, half-eaten bowl of cereal in one hand and a pencil in the other as she finishes the last of her homework. She hears him shuffle in and looks up just as he sniffles, locking eyes right before he can still his features into a facade of rested wellness. The  look on her face tells him he’s not getting away without worrying her, and he hates that. She doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to the coffee pot, she just watches him, only speaking up when he shivers at the mug’s warmth in his hands. The weather’s typical for an early autumn morning, but nowhere near chilly. Though the temperature should drop today with rain in the forecast, Sarah knows her dad and he’s never cold. 

“You know, I could just head next door. I guarantee she’d be happy to drive me,” she says smiling into her textbook, trying to be nonchalant with her concern. She was referring to you, their neighbor of a few months now, who’d given Sarah rides, helped her with homework, or checked in on her when Joel needed. You’d been around since the day you moved in, and neither of them could complain — certainly not Joel. Maybe she was hoping to fluster him a bit as well, suspecting his feelings for you were a bit more than the friendship he insists they are. 

He chokes on his coffee and coughs a little, shaking his head as she closes her book and begins leafing through her notes. Joel’s been worried enough lately that he’s taking advantage of your kindness too much — afraid he’s inconveniencing you and you’re too nice to say no, despite your insistence to help on more than one occasion. Besides, he already feels crappy, the last thing he wants today is for you to see him like this, hardly able to keep himself together. Or worse, to get you sick as well. Absolutely not. He opens his mouth to respond, but she speaks first. “It’s not like she hasn’t before. Maybe just one day? You need…,” she trails off, losing the battle with her expression as her eyebrows knit together and she notes the pallor and exhaustion on his own.

He takes a swig of his coffee hoping it will soothe the growing soreness in his throat before responding, “That’s alright kiddo, I-,” but the words catch in his throat before he can finish, and he cuts himself off coughing harshly into his elbow. Sarah grabs a glass and fills it with water while he coughs, longer than he has all morning, and hands it to him when he catches his breath. The look on her face is challenging now — she knows she won’t win this game, but she’ll still put up a fight. Predictably, Joel continues his previous thought as though unfazed by the fit, though his voice tells another story. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, babygirl,” he says hoarsely, waving her off with a sniffle. “You got a science test today, worry about that. You feelin’ ready?,” he asks, subverting talk of both his illness and mentions of you.

Sarah relents with a sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, gesturing to the textbook and notes on the table. He’s more confident than she is, and he smiles brightly at her.

“You’ve got it down, not a doubt in my mind. Now finish getting your stuff together before we’re late. I’ll get the car runnin’,” he says, moving his coffee to a travel thermos before grabbing her lunch from the refrigerator and getting it packed up. She looks back at him hesitantly before leaving the room to gather the last of her school stuff. 

Joel’s got his coffee in hand and Sarah’s lunch in the seat next to him as he waits in the truck. It’s nice enough outside, but he’s still chilly, and wonders if he should run back in and grab a jacket. He forgoes this idea when he realizes Sarah’d put up more of a fight if he did, knowing he’s warm-blooded as all hell, and vocally hot until at least November. Not to mention Tommy’d see right through him the second he shows up to work. No, it’s just early in the morning. The day will warm as the sun climbs to its apex for sure. He’ll be alright. 

While he’s thinking too hard through the fog in his head, Sarah climbs into the car with her backpack on, pulling it off to throw into the seat next to her. But not before she’s placed two additions in the seat between them - a box of tissues and a water bottle. She doesn’t say anything to him, just gives him a knowing look before loading her lunch into her backpack. Joel stills a moment — he’s not surprised by her care, but softens at the gesture. As Sarah shuts the passenger door, Joel wonders how the hell she turned out so sweet, and kisses the top of her head in silent thanks before pushing the truck into drive.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Joel gets to work, his headache has bloomed into pain behind his eyes, leaving him squinting hard in the bright morning sun. He’s also used quite a few tissues since he dropped Sarah off at school. He’s definitely grateful she thought to grab them, but unfortunately, his congestion won’t budge. He’s not naive enough to think he can hide from Tommy, but hopeful that his brother might at least leave him be today. He can muscle through if he’s just working and not being nagged by his brother for hours. He’s sure of it.

—--------------------

Tommy’s not an idiot, but he lets him slide for the first few hours. It’s clear he knows something’s wrong. Joel’s a quiet enough guy, but never this silent, only speaking up when the work demands. He noticed when Joel got out of the truck this morning looking particularly drained - both in face and demeanor - and had checked in as casually as possible, hoping to avoid his brother’s evident and exceptional irritability. Joel, of course, had promptly brushed him off and clammed up for the remainder of the morning. Speaking only when spoken to hadn’t stopped Joel from making noise, though, much to his brother’s dismay. Tommy had seen him all morning, breaking into intermittent fits of coughing he’d attempt to mask beneath the racket of power tools. Tommy’s just about as good at hiding his concern, and Joel catches him looking in his direction in the thick of it on more than one occasion. After which Joel would rip his eyes from his brother’s fretful gaze, hoping to deter him from moving forward to give him a once-over. 

Despite his many efforts otherwise, Tommy knows Joel’s sick - too sick to be working like he is today. It’s when the guys break for lunch around noon and Joel just quietly nurses a bottle of water (which he only has because Sarah made sure of it, no less), that Tommy decides he’s got all the evidence he needs. Tommy sidles up next to his brother who’s leaning against his truck bed, and by the looks of it, allowing it to hold most of his weight, too weary to do so himself. Tommy sighs next to him, and Joel braces for what’s coming.

“You know, we’ve pretty much got it covered over here today, not a lot left to do before we pour anyhow. Probably a good thing, bottom looks like it’s gonna fall out before long,” he says, gesturing to the darkening sky above them. “We can manage for the day if you wanna head on home, maybe take a nap? Hate to tell ya, but you look like hell.” Tommy nudges his brother’s shoulder with his own playfully, attempting to lighten the mood. Joel rolls his eyes at Tommy, sniffing and clearing his throat to talk.

“Nah. ‘S just a cold. I’ll be alright,” Joel says, hoping to end the discussion with his curt response, but failing when his throat catches on the last word. Tommy’s face is etched in worry at the sound of the cough tearing up his brother’s throat. 

While Joel attempts to catch his breath, Tommy takes in the reddened flush on Joel’s otherwise pale face, and the distant glassiness in his eyes. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Tommy places the back of his hand against Joel’s forehead. He’s barely there long enough to get a read on his temp before Joel swats his hand away, but it’s enough. No wonder he’s caught Joel shivering more than once today. 

“Dammit Joel, you know better. We’ve sent guys home for less and you know it,” says Tommy, face twisting in frustration and concern. 

“Tommy it’s fine I-“ Joel attempts to reply, but Tommy cuts him off. 

“Did you even bother to check it before ya left? You know this is a fuckin’ hazard on the job. Damn accident waitin’ to happen,” his tone is grave, but his expression is worried and achingly sincere. Joel pushes the thought from his mind and shapes up - not his little brother’s job, he can take care of himself. 

“No. I’m fine to keep workin. That’s it. We got stuff to do,” Joel says with finality, turning on his heel and promptly returning to his tasks. Tommy’s not happy about it, but he could spend all day arguing with his bullheaded brother, tiring him out more without making any headway. No, he’ll just keep a closer eye on him while they work. That’ll have to do.

—--------------------

It’s when the rain starts coming down a little after two that Tommy hits his limit. Once he notices a couple drops beginning to fall, he looks to Joel, just in time to see his brother shivering when the drops make contact with his overheated skin. That’s enough of that. Tommy stalks over to his brother, whose reaction time is significantly slowed, and Joel turns to look at him a bit dazed. 

“Alright, that’s it. Rain’s coming down, you’re shaking like a fuckin’ leaf. Go home.” It’s Tommy’s turn to remain steadfast in his convictions. Joel looks over at him with tired eyes and Tommy can’t help but soften. 

Only when a few chilled drops hit Joel’s face and neck making him colder than he’s felt all day that he concedes. “Yeah, alright.” It’s clear he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight, especially when Tommy pats his shoulder comfortingly and he slumps a bit. Joel’s shivering again as Tommy ushers him back toward his truck. 

“We’re heading out soon as we get cleaned up anyway. How ‘bout I pick up Sarah? Just go home and get some sleep?” Tommy asks, hopeful now that his brother’s folding. 

“Okay,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face before trying in vain to rub out the pain behind his eyes. Joel stops just outside the driver’s side door and looks to Tommy to thank him. 

“‘Course. Now head home. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Tommy responds, to which Joel nods, then climbs into the truck. Tommy takes another look back to find his brother sitting in the driver’s seat gathering himself, mildly satisfied with this result 

_____________________________________________________________

For once you actually make your way to the parking lot right after school on a Friday. You're notorious for staying too late, grading, planning, or straight up yapping, but today you’d made a rookie mistake. You’d showed up to work on Day 2 of your period without checking your advil stash. Fuck. 

After a day of cramping, crabbiness, and guilty apologies after being kind of a bitch to your students a couple of times, you head to your car as soon as the bell rings. You’ll stop in the Walgreens around the corner from your neighborhood for a quick supply run, then head home to be comfortably horizontal for the remainder of this fine Friday afternoon.

—--------------------

Truth be told, Joel is relieved to be done for the day by the time Tommy makes him leave. The last of his resolve had crumbled and fallen with the first raindrops and the chill they set in his bones. He turns the heat on in his truck and settles in, letting the air warm him up and willing the pounding in his head to subside just long enough to focus on the road. A few minutes and a bout of coughing later, he finally works up the strength to drive home, only to realize he’s still horrifically unmedicated. Shit. Guess he’s stopping at the drugstore on his way home if he wants even a little relief.

—--------------------

Joel’s standing in the cold and flu aisle of his neighborhood Walgreens, sniffling miserably and squinting heavy-lidded at different cold medicine boxes in each of his hands. He remembers one particular medicine helping at least a bit more than others last time he was sick, but for the life of him he can’t remember which one it was. Dammit, he really just wants to get out of here. He’d much rather keep this cold to himself than be hacking in public, but he needs something if he’s ever gonna stop coughing long enough to get the sleep he desperately needs. 

The tiny white letters on the back of these orange and green boxes are starting to run together, and the pain behind his eyes digs its heels into his frontal lobe. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses a little louder than he realizes, triggering a coughing fit in the middle of the store. Great. Now everyone in the store knows he’s carrying a respiratory plague. He’s sniffling and feeling like a walking germ when he hears his name called.

“Joel?” you call from the end of the aisle, having heard his voice from a few lanes over. Joel turns his head to see - oh no. Jesus. Boy did he wish you weren’t the one seeing him look so gross right now. As you come closer to find him squinting under the clinical brightness of the drugstore, you get a good look at him. He looks… rough. His hair’s a bit damp, and more disheveled than usual - not the fresh, styled damp you see when he leaves the house after a shower, but a clammier mix of sweat and rain. His posture is far from the typical confidence and swagger he typically wields with each step, and is more evidently haggard. You notice his eyes first though, with dark circles and brows creased in confused exhaustion. They’re half-closed too, like he’s fighting to keep them open. 

He tries to open them wider and stand up straighter as you approach, clearing his throat to speak, but he’s coughing again before he can get a word out. He’s shaking with the force of it and you notice his shirt is damp in places as well - must have gotten caught in the rain. Just minutes ago, he’d have been uncomfortable under your scrutiny, but he’s too wrapped up in catching his breath to be embarrassed at this point. You draw nearer with pure concern in your eyes as his coughing subsides, and his resolve melts a bit more.

“Whoa, hey, you okay over there? That sounded painful,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. He notices the fretful tone in your voice — it’s gentler than his brother’s but carries the same intention. 

“Yeah, can’t say it feels great,” Joel says hoarsely before attempting to clear his throat once again, hoping his lungs will cooperate this time. “Can’t seem to remember which of these damn pills will give me a hand though.”

“Didn’t I just see you on Wednesday? When did you start feeling bad?” you ask, leaning against his side to take a closer look at one of the boxes from his hands. Maybe with some details you can help figure something out to get him feeling better, or at least let him rest.

“Last night, I guess. Came on pretty quick. Was workin’ okay this morning, but once the rain started, Tommy sent me packin’.”

“You went to work like this, Joel?! Isn’t that like, dangerous? You could really hurt yourself,” you chastise, rubbing his upper arm comfortingly while staring up at him looking utterly devastated. Christ he may melt into a puddle right here. He’s seen this look before, and though he doesn’t want you close enough to catch this, he doesn’t have the heart to shove you away like he did Tommy. He bothers to look at least a little guilty, and you sigh before continuing: “Bad idea. And you know it. Now, let’s figure this out. You’ve got the cough down for sure - what are your other symptoms?”

Before Joel can respond, he looks down into the small basket hanging over your arm and notices its contents: a box of pads, tampons, a bag of peanut M&Ms, a resealable bag of bite-sized chocolates, sour gummy worms, two different pain medications, and a box of peppermint tea. Pain relief, pads, and candy salad. Caught. This is not a conversation you want to have with Joel — men get weird about periods for some childish reason, and you’re really not in the mood. You glance down and move the basket behind you a bit, ready to brush him off and keep the conversation on him, but when you meet his eyes they’re wider and his brows are furrowed above you, drinking you in.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?,” he asks, gesturing to the contents of your little black basket. His tone mirrors the worry you’ve been bleeding since you turned onto the aisle. You’re taken aback by the question at all, given the obvious nature of today’s dilemma — one most men you know wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. His voice doesn’t waver, and his expression doesn’t falter, or express an ounce of discomfort. It’s interesting, but you’d rather not dwell on it, and laugh him off anyway.

“Oh, yeah. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before of course,” you smile and wave your hand in the air to brush off his concern, but his eyebrows inch closer to one another, and his head tilts slightly to the side. You’re the one growing warm under his perusal now, so you turn the subject back to him. “Anyway, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Joel stares a moment longer, but begins to rattle off a list of fairly standard cold symptoms. You’re glad it isn’t anything too serious, he’ll probably just feel crappy for a couple of days while his immune system does the heavy lifting. Now to figure out what can be done to make him more comfortable in the meantime. One thing you know for certain after hearing the growing congestion in his voice and the rasp in his throat — he’s gonna need the stronger stuff. You take the boxes from his hands and return them to the shelf. He looks at you perplexed, struggling to sniffle against the congestion that — according to the pained squinting he’s still doing beneath the fluorescent lights — is giving him a hell of a sinus headache, and keeping him from breathing through his nose. Fine as he may be in a few days, at the moment he looks devastatingly uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, this crap on the shelf isn’t gonna work. Let’s get ya some of the stronger stuff,” you say, patting his shoulder before tugging him along to the pharmacy. He doesn’t ask any questions, just quietly follows your lead. Along the way, you explain the useless nature of the phenylephrine in the easy stuff, and how the good stuff requires you to show your ID. You tell him why the drugs with the pseudoephedrine are more helpful, and he nods and snuffles in understanding. Sounds good to him, he’ll let you take the lead on that one. As smart as he knows you are, he more than trusts your judgment.

You approach the counter and begin perusing the options, talking with the pharmacist about what you need, when Joel starts coughing again. You can’t help but rub his back and whisper soft words in comfort when his face twists in pain from the fit wreaking havoc in his chest. As your hand moves in soothing circles across his back, you can feel the heat of his skin through his t-shirt. Shit, he didn’t say anything about a fever. You need to get him home as soon as possible. 

When he’s composed a bit, you wrap up with the pharmacist, and she asks for your ID. You pull yours from your bag and hand it to her, but pause. Should you show her your own? Does she need to see Joel’s too?

“Oh, for sure. Uhm, do you need to see his too, since he’s the patient?” you ask, wanting to get done with this as quickly and smoothly as possible so you can get him out of here. She’s looking at the card in her hand intently and entering your information into the computer, busy with the transaction.

“No ma’am. We don’t need your husband’s ID since you’re the one purchasing,” she responds, not lifting her eyes from the computer. You blush at this, but she doesn’t seem to notice until Joel’s eyes go wide and he chokes, forcing him into another bout of harsh coughing. Jesus, his throat must be torn up. You reach for him with one hand and place your own basket and a few other sick day supplies on the counter with the other before she finalizes the transaction. 

“Thanks for all your help!,” you say a bit frantically as you begin to usher him toward the exit. You walk out of the store in silence, neither one of you looking at the other, each of you trying to keep a nervous smirk at bay. Only when the automatic doors shut behind you do you turn to look at each other and laugh heartily, extremely entertained by the pharmacist’s assumption. The laughter only ceases when it sends Joel coughing again — you need a read on that fever he’s sporting. Once he’s mostly caught his breath, you move closer and place a gentle hand on his forehead, then move it down toward his cheek. Joel closes his eyes and without realizing, leans forward into your soft touch. When your hand leaves his face, his eyes open to find that look again, and he muses that you may make him sweat before the fever gets the chance. 

“You didn’t mention this earlier. Did you know you’re running a fever, Joel?” you ask him, and he looks guilty toward the asphalt. 

“Tommy mighta mentioned somethin’ about it earlier, but I’ll be alright,” he responds, but fails to suppress a shiver when the breeze kicks up. Your heart breaks a little seeing him shaking — how did you miss that earlier? You sigh deeply before telling him you’re hesitant to let him drive home. He insists it’ll be fine, and you understand it’d be more of a hassle to come get his truck later on. You concede since it’s such a short trip back, but you’ll follow him back to your adjacent homes. 

—--------------------

After parking your car in the driveway next to his own, you meet Joel at his truck. You bat his hand away when he attempts to grab the bags from yours, and tell him to go unlock the door. Ever the gentleman, he’s a little perturbed, but follows your instructions anyway. Once you’re both inside the house, you set the items on the table and sit him down next to it before heading for the cabinet and filling a glass with water. After passing him the glass and watching as he slowly sips, you unload the bags, and begin reading the back of the box from the pharmacy. 

“Have you eaten anything today? It’s probably not a great idea to take this on an empty stomach,” you say. He goes a little green at the thought of eating anything before swallowing and huffing a response.

“No, haven’t really felt like it. Don’t think it’d sit well right now, to be honest. I’ll be alright with just the medicine, I bet.” You sigh in response, a little anxious it’ll make him feel worse, but either option could do that at this point. At least the thought of the medicine isn’t nauseating for him at the moment. You’ll let it slide, for now. 

“Fine. But you’ll definitely need to eat something substantial later,” you tell him, giving him a once-over, taking advantage of the single instance he’s below you to get a good look at him. You’re already thinking through take-out options that might help tonight. Another day, you’d make some soup for him — get him full and warm him up. Hell, tomorrow you might. But today you’re exhausted, with the period fatigue and the cramps that won’t let up, you’re definitely ready to get into some more comfy Friday Afternoon Clothes. 

“Alright, you get changed and get comfy on the couch. I’m just gonna run home and get outta these work clothes, then I’ll be right back.” 

“You’ve done plenty already today, darlin’, really. Helped me out more than you know. And I’d hate for you to catch this too,” he explains, looking guiltier than you’d like. You’re plenty aware of the risk here but at the moment you couldn’t care less. You don’t really feel like sitting by yourself in your house right now anyway. No reason both of you should feel crappy alone. 

“Uh, Joel, did you forget that we’re ‘married’ now? I’ll be back in just a minute to check on you,” you insist, smiling at him. He looks at you admonishingly and smiles back, shaking his head. You have no idea how happy that makes him — his stomach flutters at the joke, and it isn’t from his illness. You hesitate on the way out the door, and turn to check with him once again. “If having me hovering is gonna keep you up though, I can totally leave you be. I don’t want to keep you from getting the rest you need.” Your voice and expression are apprehensive, afraid to be a bother. 

He probably doesn’t still his face well enough, and he’s certain you can see desperation in his eyes when he shakes his head. He can’t tell you quite yet, but he’s over the moon you want to stick around. All semblance of nobility is dropped - having you near him could never be unwelcome. “You don’t hover, sweetheart. Nothing about you is bothersome. I’d love the company, actually,” he tells you in earnest.

Your expression settles at the reassurance, and you smile back at him. “Good. I’ll just be a few minutes,” you begin, but your smile turns to a grimace with the last few words as you feel a sharp twisting in your stomach and lower back. Your hand instinctively grips your stomach, hoping to ease the pain. There’s definitely no escaping that one. Joel’s eyes widen, but you cut him off before he can ask if you’re okay. “Yep, I'm gonna get out of these pants and into something loose before my uterus tries to kill me,” you joke, reaching for the knob. 

Joel chuckles in response but he’s frowning a bit. The look from the drugstore is back, and you don’t know what to do with his sympathy. You can’t look long before heading out. 

He hates seeing the pain you’re in, but what upsets him most is the way you brush it off. Like your pain is smaller, or insignificant by comparison — one he wouldn’t draw anyway. It sticks with him more than it probably should, but he can’t seem to shake it. He needs to act, somehow. Once he’s changed, he grabs a few blankets from the closet and the heating pad they keep around for his back and for Sarah’s own cycles. He knows how much it can help her, so he figures it couldn’t hurt to offer, at least. 

He sets up a spot on the couch for you both — a little nest for staring at the tv and, (he hopes), cozying up just a bit for extra comfort. He’s still not hungry, but he microwaves a bag of popcorn and grabs some other assorted salty snacks to join the candy you’d picked up. He’s seen how snacky you can get after school sometimes, and wants to make sure you have an array of options, prepped for any craving. 

You return as he’s placing the last of these items down on the coffee table — he’s rather proud of his little presentation — and sees your hair up and a comfy set of sweats that are just a little too long in the arms and legs. Lord help him, you look fucking adorable. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face when you walk toward him. 

“Well don’t you look cozy,” he says with eyes shining at your improved expression. You give him an exaggerated little twirl to show off the baggy outfit you’ve adorned yourself in for this evening’s activities. 

“Damn right! I’m ready for anything now,” you say, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. He’s laughing in response before it catches in his throat again and he starts coughing. 

“That makes one of us,” he jokes once he’s caught his breath. 

“Yep, I want you on the couch. Right now. Go ahead and get comfy and I’ll get the medicine. We gotta get you drugged up enough if you’re gonna get any sleep.” You’re ushering him to the couch when you stop in your tracks. When you catch sight of the coffee table snacks and the heating pad set up on one side of the couch, already plugged in and waiting, you nearly tear up. You’re speechless for a moment — no one’s ever done anything like this for you before. This little thoughtful gesture means the world, and you’re not sure what to say. 

“Joel! You didn’t need to do all this. You’re sick, I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you insist, nudging his arm with your own, leaning lightly into his side. 

“Wasn’t hardly anything, darlin’, just some stuff I know helps Sarah when she gets to feelin’ like you do. She likes her snacks salty, and always feels better with this little fire hazard next to ‘er,” he says, gesturing to the heating pad on the couch. His grin turns mischievous before he starts again: “Besides, you said it yourself, we’re ‘married’ now, huh? I oughta know what my wife needs just as well,” he finishes, voice too satisfied, and eyebrows raised in jest. 

You’re giggling when you grab his hand and squeeze it, thanking him. “This goofy little bit we’re doin’ ends the second Sarah and your brother walk through the door, by the way. Not looking to scare her, that’s the last thing I wanna do,” you instruct.

“‘Course, but fuckin’ with Tommy sure woulda been fun,” he says to you, and you laugh in agreement. Once you see he’s settled, you make tea for the both of you, hoping it’ll work magic with the medicine to get him resting comfortably and — with any luck — napping before long. He’ll probably protest, but with a little coaxing, you’ll get it into him. 

When you return with the tea, he takes it from you with both hands, before using one to pull you down on the couch next to him. He’s pulled you a little closer than you may have sat yourself, and he’s pleased when you don’t pull away or readjust. You just grab the heating pad, crank it up, and stick it behind your lower back while leaning forward to grab the medicine. You check his temperature again with the back of your hand while he’s preoccupied taking the medicine you’d doled out to him. He’s a little warmer than he was outside the drug store. 

“Maybe we should get a number on that. Where do you keep your thermometer?” you ask, worry written on your face all over again. You attempt to rise from the couch to go hunting, but he grips your hand again, keeping you in place.

“Nope, nope, it’s fine sweetheart, I promise. You need to get some rest too. Sit,” he directs, his tone leaving no room for discussion. You roll your eyes, but wriggle back against the couch again before pulling a blanket into your lap. Joel fiddles with the cord of the heating pad and readjusts it behind your back, making sure it isn’t folded or sitting uncomfortably against you. You sigh in relief and fall a bit toward him as you settle in, and he inches you way as well. You arbitrarily turn on a movie you’ve both seen, fully aware neither of you will be making it to the end, and snuggle closer. The fevered heat humming beneath his skin is pleasantly warm against you as he settles deeper, and he’s slipping in and out of conversation within minutes. 

_____________________________________________________________

Sarah walks through the door with Tommy in tow while end credits roll across the tv. They head into the den to check on Joel, but conversation falls silent and they stop in their tracks at the sight they discover. You’re sleeping peacefully, legs tucked up under you and head lolled against the back of the couch. Joel’s head has somehow found its way into your lap, and he’s resting warmly on your stomach, no doubt alleviating some of the pain with his warmth and weight. Your hand rests on his shoulder, holding him securely.

Tommy’s face goes slack, but Sarah’s smiling ear to ear, and turns to her uncle, trying to quiet her laughter. He looks at her wide-eyed, but says nothing, and she holds her hand out between them, fingers curling toward her palm.

“Pay up,” she says, way too satisfied for Tommy’s liking, and far too much like her father. He rolls his eyes, and digs his wallet out of his pocket. He really thought his brother would be too chicken to do anything about this — at least for a little while longer.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 2

What You Gonna Do?

Azriel x Reader

A short follow up to Rainy Season since you all have been so gracious with your responses - Initially I planned a time jump for part 2 but decided to give a taste of the aftermath of her leaving. Things will eventually look up for our girl, she’s just going through it right now. Stay tuned for more! I’ve decided to make this a short series.

Part 1 Part 3

Warnings: cheating, language

Azriel

Who wakes you when the morning comes?

Azriel awoke to rays filling the room with brightness. Shit - he’d overslept. Why hadn’t Y/N woken him? He looked over to find the bed cold, as if it had been vacant for hours.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he wandered to the kitchen, lacking its welcoming aroma of fresh coffee and the sweet and savory aromas of pastries and bacon. No, it was totally empty.

Where was she?

“Y/N?” He groggily called out into the house.

Silence.

Slipping on a pair of pajama pants he wandered to the door. The chill of the house whipping against his bare, muscled abdomen.

Perhaps she was basking in the sunlight on the patio. He always loved how she looked in the morning rays - a deity in her own right. He should probably tell her that sometime.

Padding to the front door, two things caught his attention.

One, his clothes were strewn over top of his bag and two, a note was scrawled in her messy handwriting.

No - not a note. A list of rhetorical questions.

“Who wakes you when the morning comes?

Who gives you all she has to give?

Who fulfills all her promises?

Who sees the good in you?

What are you gonna do when I’m gone?

Where you gonna go when there’s nobody home?

Who’s gonna love you when you’re all alone?”

He dropped his head. Fuck - things were good last night. What happened? As he bent back down to clear up the strewn undergarments, the strong, sweet scent of Elain wafting into his nostrils.

No - those questions were not rhetorical. They were a plea. “Who?” Who is that person to him?

Clutching his chest he realized just how terrible a mistake he’d made when he fucked Elain.

—————

Y/N

The warm rays of the Summer Court and the overwhelming weight of crushing heartbreak greeted me bright and early. A mockery to the pouring rain I’d traveled through last night, showing up at my grandmother’s door like a drowned rat.

Instead of chastising me for how long it had been since I’d paid her a visit, her brown eyes only met me with compassion. She knew me well and every ounce of pain on my face spoke the words that I couldn’t get out.

She pulled me into a bone crushing hug, ran a hot bath and steeped a pot of tea before laying in bed behind me and running her fingers through my hair until my heaving sobs turned to shuddering breaths and eventually a deep sleep.

It was a strange feeling. It had been too long since I’d seen her and yet, she showed me more love and compassion in a span of three hours than I had in the last three years.

Thank the gods the rays woke me early as I had to make it to the palace in Adriata immediately.

“Leaving me so soon?” Grandmother asked as I hurried out the door. “Sorry! I promise I’ll be back before lunch.”

I’d only met Tarquin a handful of times but sensed that he was a kind, benevolent ruler. Still, I expected to meet with his officials before being granted access to his office but when he’d heard who was here to see him, he immediately made time for me.

By the end of our meeting, he’d granted me renewed citizenship in the Summer Court and wrote to Rhysand effectively barring Azriel from his court. Careful to not create tensions in the court, he revoked the current ban on Cassian so long as he could keep himself from destroying any more buildings within his court.

Despite my numb state, a small smile flickered across my face as I imagined Cassian’s reaction to the news. He wasn’t one to hold petty grudges but he certainly clung on to that of being banned from the Summer Court. I just hoped he wouldn’t be angry with me for leaving without saying goodbye.

Additionally, Tarquin discussed my skill set with me and by the end of the meeting I had been offered a paid position in teaching self-defense courses within the palace to a variety of age groups, primarily focusing on women and children. I brought few assets with me upon leaving the Night Court and my pride was too stubborn to withdraw any of the money from Azriel and I’s shared account when I left. No, I could do well enough on my own - thank you very much.

After the battle of Adriata, Tarquin had ramped up efforts of ensuring his citizens were better protected on all fronts so his offer was mutually beneficial for his court and me, ergo not solely extended out of pity. My pride beamed at that.

I gratefully accepted his offer.

—————

I returned home. Home? No, not home - to my grandmother’s house to find that my sister and nephew were there waiting for me.

“Oh my gods!!!!!” My sister Camila yelped. Practically tackling me.

“Gran! You didn’t tell me that Y/N was coming for lunch. You secretive old thing.”

Before he could say anything I swooped my nephew, Alex, up into my arms and - ouch, I was not as strong as I used to be because it was an effort to lift him. He’d grown at least a foot since the last time I’d seen him. A pang of guilt struck me out of my blissful state and back to reality at the thought. It had been far too long since I’d come to visit my family.

“Where’s Uncle Azriel?” he asked.

The question struck me like a knife. My expression faltering as I scrambled to regain composure. “He’s on a mission.” I lied.

My sister’s brows furrowed. She was always too good at reading me but thankfully she didn’t press further. I would talk to her when I was ready.

We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and catching up. Alex animatedly told me of school and all of his friends - I couldn’t help but smile as the warm summer breeze whisped over my exposed skin. The tea tasted a little bit sweeter, the air a little fresher, and the company a little warmer.

—————

“Y/N?”

Rhysand’s distant voice echoed into my mind as I lay down for bed that night. I always forgot how far his daemati abilities could carry.

“Hello, Rhys.”

“I received Tarquin’s letter. Azriel has been on edge all day and…. Well, I’m not going to ask you to share anything you don’t want to but - it must have been bad. Take all the time you need.”

“I’m not coming back, Rhys.”

The words rolled through me so quickly that I almost believed them but I knew I’d need closure at some point. For now, I wasn’t ready for that.

Seeming to sense that exact thought Rhys only replied, “Write me or Feyre if you need anything at all.”

—————

Who cries knowing you don’t care?

Night time always brought out stronger emotions in me. I’d keep my emotional barriers held high all day but as the sun set, so did those walls. As I lay in bed that night the first waves of grief blew through me. Not a wave of my own grief which had been omnipresent within me but… Azriel’s grief through our bond.

Of course it took me leaving for him to feel anything toward me through our own mating bond. I shut it down as effectively as I could and cried. Tears of anger flowed as I realized that my presence was never enough but my absence was what it took for him to give a damn about me.

Who worries what the future holds?

I grieved the future that could have been ours had he only chosen me. I let the sobs pour out once again as his pain rolled through me in waves. He couldn’t even extend the courtesy of shutting down his end of the bond as he came to grips with the ramifications of his own actions. His emotions only brought me bitterness and maybe that was a flaw on my end but it sure as hell felt justified. I spent so long giving him everything and even now, I still receive only heartache in return.

Who’s tired of empty promises?

He swore he’d love me forever but forever only meant until someone better came along. Certainly it wouldn’t be long before he returned to Elain for comfort. Would he be courteous enough to shut down the bond then or would I feel the pleasure she brought as she soothed his emotional wounds then too? As he healed and made the same empty promises to her that he had to me? Hell, had he already made those promises to her? Would he hold to them for her?

What would he do now that I’m gone?

What would I do now that I’m gone?

———————————————

A/N brace yourselves, we’re getting a different character’s POV in the next chapter 😏 🔥

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@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26

[rottenpumpkin13]

Cloud's small hand wrapped around his mother's finger as he babbled. Claudia laughed, burying her nose in his soft blond hair and nuzzling him gently. "Happy first birthday," she whispered.

-

Cloud’s second birthday was marked by excited squeals when he saw the brightly colored toy train his mother presented him. “Tain!” he exclaimed as Claudia set it in his lap, laughing as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, my darling.”

-

“Cloud!” Claudia laughed on the afternoon of Cloud's third birthday, watching the excited toddler dig his fist into his chocolate birthday cake and happily grab the candle between his messy fingers. “You're not supposed to do that!”

-

“Why is it raining today?” four-year-old Cloud huffed, upset as he sat by the window and watched the early August rain hammer against the glass. “I wanna go outside!”

“Think of the rain as a birthday gift!” his mother called back from the kitchen. “Now you can go out and play in the mud!”

Cloud grinned, lighting up as he leapt off the chair and bolted outside. It was going to be a good birthday indeed.

-

Claudia gifted him a small, blue backpack for his fifth birthday, perfect for his first day at the schoolhouse the following week. “I like it!” Cloud declared, slipping the backpack on.

-

“Woah!” Cloud mused as he ran into the kitchen on the morning of his sixth birthday. There, a wooden sword with a red bow tied around its hilt sat waiting for him. “It's exactly like a SOLDIER’s, right mom?”

-

Cloud's seventh birthday was somber as he sat alone with a small cake his mother made. None of the village kids showed up for his party.

-

“I wonder what Sephiroth did on his eighth birthday,” Cloud wondered aloud as he hung the poster his mother had gifted him on his bedroom wall.

-

“Hey!” Tifa waved to him as he was going back into the house after playing. Cloud blushed, self-consciously wiping away the dirt from his clothes. “H-Hey!” he called back.

Tifa smiled. “Happy birthday!” she said. “Nine is a big age!” And then she dipped back into her own house. Cloud sighed. Not big enough to join SOLDIER.

-

“Maybe everyone's just late,” his mother, ever the optimist, suggested on the evening of his tenth birthday. It was nine. Everyone was supposed to be there at six. Cloud shook his head, ripping off his party hat and looking at the cake his mother had baked with a mix of guilt and nausea.

“No, mom. They're just not coming.”

-

Cloud started his eleventh birthday by measuring himself on the door frame. “Aw, man” he groaned, stepping back to see that his height had not changed from the previous year.

-

Cloud spent the evening of his twelfth birthday on the water tower, looking up at the stars, wondering what it would be like to touch them, hearing the soft sounds of the piano drifting from Tifa’s room. It was the birthday he decided to stop trying to make birthdays special.

-

On his thirteenth birthday, Cloud's mother gave him a suitcase. “Woah,” Cloud mused, impressed as he picked it up, weighing it for size. “Mom, are you serious?”

Claudia smiled softly. "For the journey ahead," she said, pulling him into a hug.

-

Fourteen was the age Cloud stopped wishing for material possessions for his birthdays. He wanted only three things: to finally join SOLDIER, a friend, and to take care of his mother.

-

Cloud's fifteenth birthday gift was given to him early that morning, with chaos and laughter giving way into the moment his squad mates woke him up. They grabbed him out of his bed and dragged him into a cold shower. He pretended to laugh, to enjoy the seemingly harmless prank, but inside he was mortified. And now very cold.

-

On his sixteenth birthday, Zack handed Cloud a cupcake with a single, flickering candle. Cloud hadn't been expecting it, but he should've figured something was up the minute Zack walked up to him with his arms behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"What did you wish for?" Zack asked the minute Cloud blew out the flame.

Cloud huffed. “As if I'd tell you.”

“Hey!” Zack laughed, punching him playfully. “Don't forget, you can't talk to me like that anymore. I'm the adult here—eighteen trumps your sixteen!”

Cloud laughed with him, staring down at his cupcake. He wished all birthdays would be like this.

-

Cloud wasn't awake for his seventeenth birthday. Hojo's calculating gaze scrutinized him through the glass of the mako tank.

-

Eighteen came with a metaphorical slap to the face. "Subject approximately eighteen,” Hojo muttered, observing Cloud in his cell. Cloud's sense of time was warped. Zack was eighteen too, wasn't he?

-

Cloud was strapped to a table on his nineteenth birthday. The lab was filled with the sound of his screams.

-

On his twentieth birthday, Cloud watched through the mako tank as Zack was subjected to a torment familiar to him—strapped to the table, enduring agony under a knife, his screams piercing the air. Cloud couldn't do anything.

-

Cloud's twenty-first birthday passed in a haze as he lay comatose. But Zack was determined. He pulled him closer in the back of the truck they had hitched a ride in. "Happy birthday, buddy,” Zack whispered, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

-

On his twenty-second birthday, Cloud stood motionless as Tifa hugged him tightly. "Happy birthday!” she said, holding enough excitement within her to last him a lifetime. Twenty-two, he kept repeating in his mind. Was he really twenty-two already?

-

Cloud spent the early hours of the morning on his twenty-third birthday staring into a bathroom mirror. He traced his fingers over his face, looking at every line, every scar, his hair, his nose, everything. It was so strange. This was the age Zack was when he died.

-

On his twenty-fourth birthday, Cloud sat beside the Buster Sword, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly. He was now older than Zack would ever be.

[babyleostuff]

SHADOW

・❥・ for the 2k followers event

summary: you don't know when the universe factory had become your safe place, but woozi always made sure to comfort you in every way he could - even if it meant he had to spoil his new song

pairing: idol!woozi x fem!reader

genre: fluff, a bit of angst, comfort | word count: 2k

To say that you had a bad day would be an understatement. The morning was actually perfect - you woke up next to your boyfriend, as he didn’t have to rush to the studio early in the morning (finally), you ate breakfast together, you even managed to make him some snacks for work.

But as the day passed, it seemed like the universe wanted you to fail on every step that you made. Nothing major really happened, it was just a series of unfortunate events, but it was enough to make you cry out of frustration in the middle of the street on your way home.

It didn’t help that it was pouring, and you couldn’t see two metres in front of you, let alone the bus that drove over the puddle, drenching you in the dirty water. 

“It’s time to use my girlfriend privilege card,” you thought, as you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself (not that it helped much). You knew Woozi was still at the Universe Factory, because let’s be real - when was he not, especially now as he and the boys were preparing for a comeback. The problem was you didn’t want to be too clingy, you knew he had work to do, songs to record, lyrics to write, and the last thing you wanted was to burden him with your silly little problems. 

As if your boyfriend could read your mind, you heard a ping coming from your phone a second later. 

WOOZI 🍚 are you home? 

You sighed, rain drenching your screen, because… Should you lie to him? You didn’t want to make him worry, but then again - lying wasn’t the smartest option. 

YOU 💎 not exactly  WOOZI 🍚 ??? YOU 💎 can i come over?  YOU 💎 if you’re busy it’s okay! WOOZI 🍚 stop being dramatic, you know you’re always welcome here  WOOZI 🍚 now get your ass over here 

You smiled at your phone. You could practically hear your boyfriend’s scolding voice and see the roll of his eyes. He was always like that when you tried to reassure him that you were okay, when in fact you were not. 

That was just one of the many things you loved about him. 

[...]

knock knock knock 

You swiped your wet hair strands off your forehead, droplets of water running down your cheeks, and under the collar of your coat. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d end up with a cold tomorrow, but hey - at least you’d get to stay home. 

The music behind the door was playing loud enough that Woozi probably didn't hear you knocking. He probably had his earphones on too, so you slowly opened the door, letting yourself in. A wave of warm air hit you as soon as you entered the room and you sighed in relief because you’d get to take off your soaked clothes. Maybe you could even convince Woozi to give you his hoodie, which would be perfect. 

Quickly taking off your shoes and hanging up your jacket, you pulled the sleeves of your shirt over your hands to warm up a bit, and went to look around the studio for your boyfriend. To no surprise, Woozi was sitting in front of his computer, papers scattered around him, making a mess on the desk, earphones on his head, while he was clearly occupied with something on the screen. 

You smiled and pulled out your phone, sending him a quick message “I’m here”. The second his phone lit up with a notification, your boyfriend picked it up and pulled the headphones off his head, and you just knew his brows were furrowed in confusion.  

“Turn around,” you giggled, crossing your arms over your chest. His head snapped towards you in surprise. You weren't planning on scaring him, but maybe you should do it more often because he looked adorable with his wide eyes and a slight pout. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he sighed and shook his head in disapproval, his long hair falling over his forehead. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, although both of you knew you weren’t. 

For a moment, you just stared at each other as if you hadn't seen each other in a week, absorbing each other's presence as the music continued to play from his speakers. Woozi, however, quickly noticed how you were shaking, and his face immediately turned slightly worried.

"Everything's okay?" He asked. “Not really,” you shook your head, as all of the bad memories and frustrations of that day suddenly came back to you. 

“C’mere, let me hold you,” he extended his hand to you, putting the headphones down on the desk. You padded over to him, grabbing him tightly.

That was almost like a little routine in your relationship - when you needed something to hold onto during difficult days, you could always count on Woozi to be your pillar, making sure you never fell, no matter how hard it was. 

And that was exactly what you needed right now, to cling to him and trust that he would help you get rid of the terrible thoughts.

He moved the chair further away from the desk so you could sit on his lap, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “Tsk, I think I need to buy you some kind of raincoat if you like walking in the rain so much,” he scolded you, feeling your wet clothes.

“Honestly, I don’t care anymore. I just want this day to end,” you muttered, grabbing his hand that was holding your waist.

“You want to talk about it?” Woozi asked, settling his chin on your shoulder. That was another thing you loved about him. He never made you talk about your problems, never tried to find a solution just to make you feel better, never pushed you to do anything - he always let you take your time and decide on your own if you needed his advice or just a hug. 

You shook your head. There was no point in dwelling on the past. 

“What are you working on?” You looked at the screen filled with different music softwares. You’d never fathom how he was able to switch between them so easily, knowing exactly what each and every of them did. “Nothing much. We needed to change one of the lyrics for the album, but I got stuck, so,” he sighed, from what you gathered he really was struggling with it. “I just started making a beat and recorded some lyrics to pass some time.” 

“Can I listen to it?” 

He hesitated for a second, before clicking on one of the open windows on his screen, rewinding the song to the beginning. “It’s nothing much, I made it in like an hour so don’t get your hopes up.” 

“You know I love all of your songs, honey,” you turned your head to place a kiss on his cheek, but that was the truth. Even if he insisted he made a song just for “fun”, you loved each and every single one of them.

From the first seconds you knew you’d absolutely adore the song. You could feel it was going to be some kind of ballad, which had to be your favourite genre of songs that your boyfriend made. He had this ability to make every sentence meaningful and so deep that you could feel it move your heart, no matter how good you were at hiding your emotions. 

I didn't want the hot sun to rise too far away  I hate everything in the shade on the other side of the light  He follows me every step, my eyes are always there I hated seeing myself run away

You closed your eyes, melting into Woozi’s embrace. The lyrics were already so painfully beautiful, and it just showed how great of a writer your boyfriend was.

​​Shadow, my shadow, my shadow I don't want others to see you Shadow, my shadow, my shadow I hated you and hurt you

Woozi was a master of making songs that most people could relate to, and sometimes you hated him so much for it, because most of the time you just wanted to bawl your eyes out. You almost had a fight when you heard For you for the first time. 

I ran to run away from you I hid in a place where was no light

Sensing how stiff he was behind you, you pulled his arm tighter around your waist, rubbing your thumb over his hand. Woozi could insist as much as he wanted that he made this just because he was bored, but you knew the lyrics meant a lot to him. You could hear the vulnerability in his voice, and in the lyrics. 

Stay with me, no matter in what moment Let's become the same light, the same shadow In whatever place, I'll hold you

You smiled at how the lyrics seemed to get more hopeful as the song was nearing its end. You weren’t sure if it was because you had this awful day, but hearing that brought you some sense of comfort.

Because even my darkness will shine brightly Baby I'm a shadow of you

As the song finished, and the studio went silent except for the pouring rain, you took a second to collect your thoughts, your brain blown at how your boyfriend could make something that beautiful in just an hour.  

“As I said,” Woozi murmured, his breath tickling your neck. “It’s not that good.” 

His brows furrowed as you pulled away from him, standing up, just to straddle him a second later. “Listen to me you little shit,” you took his face in your hands, as you had to suppress a giggle because of his offended expression. “That song was a fucking masterpiece, and I know I say that everytime, but I mean it,” you looked at him, your tone serious. “Do you have any idea how amazing it was?” 

Your boyfriend had a sceptic look on his face, it didn’t seem that he believed you. “You might not realise this, but the lyrics, the way you wrote about hiding your emotions and insecurities from the world, and how everything reminds us of the struggles, but that at the end of the day we learn and accept them, learning how to live with them…” you sighed, you eyes teary. “It means so much to me, and I’m sure it’d mean a lot to other people too. Sometimes we just need to be reminded that it’s okay to be scared of our feelings, but that they shouldn’t stop us from living our lives.” 

With every word you could see Woozi’s face softening, as if he started to understand how much it actually meant to you. “You got all of that from just listening to it once?” 

“Lee Jihoon, I’m being serious here,” you smacked his shoulder, although you were sure he didn’t even feel it. “Show this to the boys, baby. It’s too good to be hidden on your computer forever.” 

He nodded, running his hand through your hair. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” You tilted your head, looking at him in surprise. You should be the one thanking him for letting you come here and interrupt his work and for letting you listen to his song. “For being here with me. For always believing in me.” 

You felt tears forming in your eyes because it wasn’t often that Woozi was so open with you about his feelings. He always expressed them through actions, or songs, and hearing those words moved you more than they should have. 

You sniffled, bringing his face closer to yours, and pecked his lips sweetly. “I will always believe in you. No matter what.” He smiled against your lips, kissing you again, as he held your face between his hands, like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

And just like that you forgot about all of the bad things that happened earlier. 

Now it was only you, Woozi, and your shadows.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @daegutowns

[faeriichaii]

hiii. if it’s not a problem, could I request a Legolas x human reader where the reader catches the flu but Legolas thinks she is about to die or something like that because of how fragile human life is? everything very flufff 🙏 have a good dayy💗💗

Immunity ~ Legolas x fem!human!reader

A/N: Heyyy!! Of course it's no problem :) I love the plot I can picture it so well omg!! I hope you have a nice day as well and enjoy the story <33

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.1k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (Thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: Being sick is not fun, especially when you see Legolas' panicked gaze at your condition, which seems to get worse as the days pass by.

As you woke up on the cold hard floor in the morning, you could already tell that you were getting a little sick. The weather on your journey seemed to be not playing in your favour, cold wind was constantly blowing, which was sometimes accompanied by rain or snow. You knew it was bound to happen at some point. Letting out a little cough you wrap up your small sleeping bag, next to Legolas’ and get on your way with the rest of the company. Walking beside the elven prince, you gave him a soft smile. “Good morning Meleth Nin. Did you sleep well?” His hand grasped yours gently, as he looked down at you, reciprocating your smile with one of his own.

“Yeah, I did, it just was a bit cold during the night.” One of his eyebrows raised up as he listened to your slightly deeper voice. “Are you alright?” You just gave him a nod, squeezing his hand to reassure him. “I’m alright love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” A chuckle left his lips, as he leaned towards you and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. Giggling softly, you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Next time you are cold you can join me in my sleeping bag.” Legolas whispered sultry into your ear, while giving you a wink. A gasp escaped your lips, followed by a cough as you gently shoved him away by his shoulder.

He laughed at your reaction, throwing his arm around your waist to pull you closer once more. “I don’t know what you had in mind, but I just thought about a little bit of cuddling, that’s all.” Your eyes stared back into his. How can anybody look so breathtaking? He tried to lean in to give you a kiss on the lips and you really really wanted that as well, however knowing that you’re sick, you turned your face back to the path, resulting him giving you another peck on the cheek. Scrunching his eyebrows at you, the elven prince gave you a confused look, before you let out another cough.

“Meleth Nin, are you sure you are alright? Did I do something?” “No, of course not but I just remembered that Gimli gave us a stink eye yesterday. He wouldn’t even stop staring and at some point, started grumbling.” You partly lied, trying to hide the cough that was stuck in your throat. Gimli did in fact complain about your ‘constant smooching around’, however you knew that this wasn’t the real reason why you couldn’t kiss him. You just didn’t want him to catch a cold. A few coughs escaped your lips as you grabbed your water bottle to calm your aching throat down a bit. The cold liquid trickled down your throat, helping just a tiny bit. A hot beverage would definitely be the better choice, but that also calls for luxury that you currently can’t come by.

After the long walk of the day, you all set up camp. The fire was brightly lit, as you sat between Aragorn and Legolas. You held your half-eaten bread towards your lover. “Are you already full? You only ate half of the bread. You need to eat more.” You just smiled at him softly and brushed it off with a ‘Don’t worry, I ate a lot during the day.’, knowing you just can’t stomach more because of the flu that really started to catch up now. His gaze glimmered with worry. “Now if you will excuse me, I will go to bed early. I’m so tired because of the long walk today.” You gave Legolas a quick peck before you stood up from your place on the log and made yourself comfortable on your sleeping bag. The elven princes gaze never leaving your figure, even after you fell asleep.

“Aragorn, do you think (Y/N) is alright?” The man beside him turned his gaze from the fire towards your sleeping figure. “What do you mean? She seems normal to me.” Legolas’ gaze drops towards the fire. “Maybe you worry a little too much.” Aragorn says, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, before excusing himself to prepare his weapons for the upcoming day.

The next day you wake up you can already feel the goosebumps on your skin. You felt incredibly cold and hot at the same time. A groan left your lips as you tried to stand up. The world seemed to be spinning around itself as you fell back down with a huff. Legolas eyes widen as he stopped packing his things and approached your side quickly. Worry gleamed in his eyes, as he held you in his arms. He put a hand on your cheek, feeling your very hot face. “(Y/N) what is going on! Where are you hurt?” His gaze roamed your body for any kind of wound that could have been infected that led you to an almost dying stage. “Legolas I’m fine I just-“ A few coughs interrupted you as you grasped his forearm for stability to properly sit up once again. “Aragorn, (Y/N) is dying!” He shouted from the ground where the both of you sat.

Aragorn quickly approached the two of you as he inspected you for any kind of injury as well. “No, I’m not dying I just got sick, that’s all.” Another cough escaped your lips as you grabbed your water bottle beside you. A dumbfounded look spread across Legolas’ face, as he watched you drink. Chuckling a bit, Aragorn stood back up from the ground. “All she needs are some herbs from the woods and drink some tea. Do you think you can travel for a bit (Y/N)?” He asked you, concern slightly visible on his face. “Yes, I just shouldn’t have gotten up that quickly.” You smiled at him before standing up with Legolas, who still didn’t let go of you.

Turning in his arms you wrap your own around his neck. “See I’m alright Meleth Nin. I just need some tea.” He suddenly hugged you tightly. His hand stroked over your hair as he breathed in your smell, his face in your neck. A gentle kiss was placed on the exposed skin. After a little while he slowly let go of you. “I thought you were dying.” He confessed. His eyes burned with an intense fire, as he leaned down and pulled your face towards his, resulting in a kiss on the lips. Gasping softly, you tilted your head to the side. His thumbs stroking your cheeks lovingly, while you let your fingers flow through his hair. Heat spread to your cheeks as the both of you separated to catch some air. “Legolas don’t kiss me! You will catch a-“ He silences you with another kiss. “Meleth Nin don’t ever reject my kisses again while you’re sick.” “But-“ Another peck was placed on your lips. “I thought you knew I was immune to all kind of diseases.”

[anadiasmount]

BFF so morning fluff with jude (waking up and stuff) nd you are in his hoodie wearing nothing underneath ... then you're in the kitchen making breakfast and he's behind you, running his hands inside his hoodie your wearing to find out you're still wearing nothing underneath and it turns him on (slight smut)

BESTIEEEE!!! "nothing but shorts skirts around the house" ** 🤭🤭 // here's my treat to you!! like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

the rain hitting and tapping the windows woke you abruptly, squinting your eyes and looking around the room, quiet and dark, beside the 6ft man who slept sound asleep next to you. jude had his arm wrapped around your naked body, his chin on top of your head snoring slightly. brows drew in as his lips pursed.

jude's hand twitched pulling you closer to him as if nothing happened. recalls of last night played in your head as you remembered how the long night was filled with shared love and lust. kisses, moans, reassurance, and giggles of 'i love you's". he never failed to make you feel special and wanted.

you scrolled on your phone for a bit, replying to messages and emails, and going through your shopping cart to see what needed to be bought and or returned. it had been a long and hectic 2 weeks for jude, playing football and training, so sleep was exactly what he deserved and needed.

you gently moved his secure arm from you, hearing him groan but then turned over to tuck himself on the other side, not once waking up. jude was a heavy sleeper, and when he slept, he slept. the thunderstorm from outside wouldn't even wake him, let alone if it got worse throughout the day.

after brushing your teeth, you slip into a black hoodie he wore once to a basketball game, no undergarments underneath since the hoodie fits you loose, and is bigger than a dress. it went almost touching your knees, and the sleeves had to be rolled up. you grabbed your phone and headed to the kitchen to brew some coffee.

you yawned, stretching your arms and legs, feeling the cold floor beneath you, as you turned on the kitchen lights. you checked the security cameras to ensure nothing had happened over the night, and made sure every door was locked because you never know. you attempted to blend the coffee quietly, quickly putting it into the filter and began to brew it.

it was still early, and jude had the day off with you. he promised he'd workout and then spend the rest of the day with you, either cuddled up or doing last-minute shopping, although the last time that felt impossible with everyone recognizing him. you laugh at the memory, pulling out the carton of eggs, some veggies to add, and fruit to cut up.

you quietly played music in the background, dicing the fruit first, taking two small bowls out for each of you. you hummed quietly, making sure you wouldn't cut yourself as you cut into the jalapenos, cherry tomatoes, and onions to add to the eggs. jude walked down still asleep and groggy, scratching the side of his head as he approached you.

he wore black plaided pj pants walking shirtless. "hi babe, good morning," you greeted leaning up to meet his kiss in a quick peck. jude groaned feeling you pull away and return back to what you were doing. "coffee just finished, and now I'm making some eggs," you say, feeling jude come behind you and tug you into his chest once again.

"my favorite way," jude cheers, looking at all the veggies spread out in the pan sizzling. "gosh I'm so tired, my legs are killing me from the game yesterday," jude complained, not letting go of you once even when he reached to get the two mugs.

he grabbed some scooby doo cookies, dipped them into the warm drink, and ate them. the two of you conversed about yesterday, and plans for today, agreeing if that the storm got worse you'd stay in and recover here.

you squirmed around your space, giggling, as you felt jude teasingly running up his larger hands on your thighs and sides. his fingertips drawing shapes and lines as he ran them under his hoodie, just to find out you wore nothing underneath. "jude?" you asked, feeling as he went quiet and stopped his movements.

"hmm?"

"are you okay?"

"you're not wearing anything under my hoodie, darling," jude points out, his left hand going all the way up to slightly grab your boob, fingering rolling around the bead feeling it get hard. "i know i just didn't want to waste clothes again since I was-s-s going to s-s-shower after," you stutter gulping the small moan you wanted to let out.

you felt soft and silky, and smelled like vanilla and cherry as jude placed wet kisses all over the nape of your neck, biting and sucking at times. "you're distracting me jude," you whined trying to pull away, "what did you expect? you're wearing my hoodie with nothing underneath angel..."

he grabbed a strawberry, placing it between his lips as you watched his every move. he turned you around, grabbing your face gently with one hand as the other one gripped your ass cheek. his eyes went hooded, observing the way your breathing rapidly changed as he traced the red juice of the sweet fruit all along your top and bottom lip.

jude took a bite placing the half un-eaten piece into your mouth, chewing it softly as he sucked his finger to wipe any extra juice. you looked so torn, licking your lips pondering whether to continue with breakfast or let him take you right then and there. his skin trailed with goosebumps as you dragged your hand all the way up to his throat, gliding it behind his neck.

"you're distracting me," you raised your brow playing with fire growing bold and confident. "and you're making me crazy," jude smugged as he leaned down once again to kiss your jaw, pulse point, and now corners of your lips. "you always drive crazy, whether it's you sitting down and doing work or you wearing my clothes in our home. tell me what did you expect?"

"nothing..." you joke watching him pull back with a "don't play with me" look, "but i do expect you to let me finish breakfast?" you said sweetly, an innocent smile playing at your lips. jude hears you giggling and pleads to put you down as he picks you up and takes you to the couch.

his fingers traced from your sides to between your legs, feeling you already wet as he stroked his fingers around your entrance and throbbing clit. he kissed you profusely, still being able to taste the strawberries on your lips and tongue as they danced together. he gently inserted his fingers into you, your back arching at the sensation. jude smirked, kissing your chin, before sinking his didgets deeper.

"i think i can have my breakfast and workout right now... all at the same time..."

[gentaro-kinniecom]

Jealous much?

Characters: Solivan Brugmansia/gn!reader

C/w: jealousy, friends to lovers troupe, reader helps Solivan with some bullies, Crowe and his feelings for the reader, Sol takes care of reader <3

A/n: I might make a sequel to this post cause..why not? I have at least 3 more works in progress of tkatb so stay tuned for more >:3. This was SUPPOSED to be more early but with graduation and my summer job its been hectic 😔 (not proofread)

Rain drops fell gently onto the surfaces that it could. The cloudy and cold atmosphere bringing back unwanted memories for me. It took me back to when I was a happy child running around the fields that my family owned. Why did fate had to be this way? I couldn't relish in the sad moment for long, my life had changed, some may think for the better, but in all honesty, I've lost myself in it.

The city life was not for the weak, especially in this society that judges you based on your backgrounds. Hallways and classrooms were empty as I walked by, meaning another day where I would stay behind until the sun rised up, studying in the library. It felt depressing, well, it was. Even with all my friends who share classes with me, I’ve never felt a sense of comfort around anymore. Upon arrival, I sighed gently while scanning my library card, heading towards my favorite spot and to hopefully meet him again: Solivan Brugmansia, the same man who I aided long ago.

Some bullies had cornered him, if it weren’t for me, he could’ve gotten bruised up badly(or so I thought). Sol’s strength was enough to not be messed around with yet, he was always careful with me. His long, black hair with green stripes was noticeable from afar, a smile subconsciously appeared across my features, walking towards him with my books in one arm and a cup of coffee in my hand.

“Hi” I spoke, my voice a mear whisper as he smiled, kissing my cheek while allowing me to sit beside him.

“Hey..thanks for the coffee, I saved your seat in hopes you’d be here” His gaze remained on the hoodie I wore, a purple-ish one with some designs around it, though I could tell something bothered him.

“Aw, that’s real sweet of you Sol..!” Taking the vacant seat by the window, Sol’s eyes returned to the book at hand, analyzing the text while taking a casual sip or two after some pages. I placed my books aside, taking out my computer and working on some last details for an upcoming presentation.

“Is that sweater you’re wearing someone else’s?” The question caught me off guard while Sol closed the book, his attention returning towards me as I continued to type away

“Crowe made me borrow it, he said it would get cold during the night, even if I insisted it was fine” A glint of jealousy made his eyes glimmer with a bit of rage, directed towards Crowe who had the audacity, in Sol’s words, to lend me something of his. After the small talk, we returned to our devices while Sol’s cup inched close to me. Which I thought nothing of it until the, now warm, liquid splashed against Crowe’s hoodie.

“Sol! Ah..what am I going to do now?” My eyes widened as the panic settled in. Pouted lips looking down at the mess that occurred while Sol spoke.

“I can wash it, and hand it over tomorrow..if you don’t mind?” The offer was tempting, and besides, the washing machine at my apartment had broken down. It was like an angel had been sent down from the heavens truly.

“Really? Well, if you’re offering..” With a smile, Sol helped me take the sweater off, folding it and placing it in his backpack. Was he really concerned or jealous by me wearing it? After an hour or so spent in the library, my sleepy eyes gazed over at Sol’s figure that had finished his book a few minutes prior 11:00pm.

His eyes turned to stare at me, as if, he knew I was staring beforehand. The library air making goosebumps arise on my skin as Sol noticed. A small warmth wrapped around my body, making me sigh while laying my hand down onto the table, resting for a bit as he smiled.

It was past noon when I woke up in a different place rather than the library. A soft, warm bed beneath me made contrast to the heavy rain pouring outside, making me groan and stretch my limbs, still remaining in the bed as the door suddenly opened. Solivan stood outside, entering shortly after while smiling, his body beside my own as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“Mn, how did I get here?” Too tired to even acknowledge the strength he had to take me here, in his home, I was glad he did. The moment didn’t last long as I was now wide awake, staring up at the crimson eyes that gently creased while smiling

“You were tired and..we couldn’t stay at the library for too long, I hope you don’t mind” Room infused by Sol’s cologne made my heart flutter, it seemed he recently got out of the shower. Soft damp hair met my face as I buried it on the crook of his neck. Our actions were far too intimate to call this as “only friends”. Every reasonable thought left me as Sol wrapped an arm around my back, lips caressing my forehead and cheeks while smiling.

“It’s okay, you know I trust you Sol..” More rain could be heard from his room, creating a cozy and cold atmosphere around us. There was no one else I’d rather be with during these moments, so close yet…

“Are you hungry? I made some soup earlier..perfect for this weather, isn’t it?” I nodded, watching as he parted away from my body. Planting a kiss on my neck while walking towards the kitchen. The fresh and soft aroma of the miso soup he prepared made my stomach rumble with hunger

“You always make the best food Sol” Now reachinh the kitchen area, I sat by one of the bar stools, admiring the pink apron he wore. A bowl was later on placed in front of me, its contains making me smile as Sol spoke

“Mn? You really think so?” He asked, grabbing a bowl for himself. Standing in front of me while meeting my gaze, smiling as he enjoyed eating with me.

“Mhm! There’s no one else’s food that I’d enjoy then yours..” A hand was placed on my cheek, staring at Sol who leaned towards me, our lips meeting briefly as he smiled.

“Then..I wouldn’t mind cooking meals for you, my darling.” We shared another short but sweet kiss while smiling. Sol quickly went to wash the dishes, later returning to his bedroom, hand in hand. Warm touches graces my skin as Sol filled my embrace, kissing my face while sighing in peace.

Sequel (coming soon)

[jjknanamin]

Name & Character: OVULATING ON VACATION // NANAMI KENTO FUNFICTION (Part 1 & 2)

For Part 3 & 4, click

Summary: You are both on vacation, and you are horny. Nanami is the perfect boyfriend, helps you.

Wc: Around 2.0k

Cw: fem!reader x kento nanami, established relationship, suggestive alert!, smut alert!, unprotected (reader on birth control tho), nudity, blow!job (m! receiving), fingering (m! & f! receiving), ovulation, nsfw (you are warned), MDNI (minors do not interact)

A/n: I am not native. Please inform any gramer mistakes. Minors will be blocked. This one is my first story, so I am so excited!

For Part 3 & 4, click this link

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

PART 1

You were ovulating. It was approximately the same week as the month before when you went crazy for sex on your vacation without your lover. You had to look at his cute to sexy photos to satisfy yourself desperately with masturbation, but this month was different. You were already in the embrace of your partner for five years, Nanami Kento. You woke up almost suddenly with a small whine really early in the morning with such sexual desire affected by your dream. You sure were ovulating.

Even though you reached your climax just before sleep, since you had dreams that you had confidence larger than usual, that you mentioned of your boyfriend, loved him, and about to fuck him, yet you woke up. The clock on the wall was showing 5.49, very early in the morning, you usually cannot afford waking up. Your back was pressed against your lover's chest, cuddling you from behind in your bed, while you were cuddling one of his arms, the one embraced you over your shoulder, and an extra pillow. He was sleeping lightly in peace.

He was already used to getting up for your intimacy needs in the harsh week of the month, and he sure was aware of your cycle, and you knew that he wouldn't be bothered if you approached him for this.

Unconsciously you whined a little louder while stretching your body a little bit. This triggered his body as he cuddled you harder, came closer, and put a kiss on your crock of neck, took a deep breath of your scent. His right hand caressed through your body, and when landed on your bare leg, he tried to rearrange the sheets that were tangled in your legs, to cover your slightly cold skin.

It was the beginning of August, yet from time to time, you were blessed with summer rains, and the weather could be chilly in the morning. The very reason why you wore socks while sleeping. You were on vacation in a good beach territory, staying with your family in an amazing beach resort, that every couple had their own room and bath. And your windows were wide upon, welcoming the summer ambience.

After covering you successfully, he kissed you on the forehead, ready to continue sleeping. Yet, your motion was different. You turned on your other side, and hugged him in the neck, whining through his bare chest, putting a few kisses around his nipples. You were rewarded by him with a small whine in return.

"Kento-," you murmured to his neck. You put your chin on his chest and look at him with small eyes half lidded. "I want you. I want your penis in my mouth." You stroked his chin with one of your thumbs. You could feel his stubble, and this turned you even more. You were already getting wet between your legs.

He chuckled after a deep breath. He cleared his throat with a few attempts and said, "Is that so, my love?" without opening his eyes and looking at you.

You nodded in his chest. He encouraged you by lifting one of his legs from its lying position and spared you some space between his legs. You stood on your hands, sliding down through his body while giving small pecks through his torso, starting on his cheek. You finally reached his V-line, that you paid more attention to with your lips, giving deep kisses, some bites, and licks. Your lips moved to his belly button while your hands were occupied with lowering his boxer. You let him help you with that. You withdrew on your heels, he flipped his right leg over your head, lowered his boxer through his hips. You stopped him there, and took control again. While kissing his balls, now appeared just under his hips, and between his legs, you moved his boxer, and put it on the bed. You flipped his leg back over your head again, and repositioned yourself between his legs.

He had a small morning erection already, favored with your touches. You gripped him with your hand, stroked a few times up and down. He was getting harder and more voluminous to his original form. You bent over, and finally put his tip in your mouth. He released a pleasure complaint from his lips, and placed his hand on your head. You suck his tip as it was gonna give you the watery liquid so that you could live furthermore. You moved your head down on his cock, made him wet with your saliva. You took him out of your mouth, while one hand squeezing and hand-jobbing his upper area, you buried your face to his testicles. You sucked his skin above them, licked passionately. You slided your tongue from the base of his balls up to his slit, he was now leaking pre-cum, took him again in your mouth.

You were not deep throating, since you were not found of choking casually, or you didn't see your throat as a place to be fucked, and since he did not come up with such request before. His eyes were still closed, yet considering his mid to heavy breaths, he was enjoying your care on his cock, and you thought maybe he needs more of it. So you took a mental note to bring this topic up later. If he has any interest, you could reconsider trying it. However, now it was your week that your sex hormone was at its top.

His hands were on your shoulder, trying to reach down on you, to your armpit. You moved him out of your month, kissed his pubic bone which had yellow to brown hair placed on till his belly button. You continuously approached his face, meanwhile giving kisses on his torso again. You buried your face to his neck, gave enough kisses, licks, and bites every corner left and right before reaching his chin. His trimmed beard hurt and tickled your face a little. Your lips grabbed his lips, he let a moan out to escape as you kissed him harshly. He was snatching some of his hair with one hand, while the other was welcoming your arrival and gripped your cheek as you kissed him.

His hands moved to strip you. He moved your pink tank top above your head, leaving your lips for a second, letting your torso be naked. He then moved to your panties. You took the command, stood on your knees while lowering it. He finally glanced at the view with sleepy eyes, satisfied. You let your panties fall on the bed, moved to his lips back.

His hands now were sliding from your shoulders to waist, to hips, to inner thighs, and finally to your pussy. He touched your entrance with a few fingertips, collected juices, spread all over your vulva. He gave you a little smack on the hip, to a mid-degree that you most like, he stroked that hip, and gripped it playfully. Other hand kept drawing circles on your wet minor labia and entrance.

You were letting moans out of you as you kissed him on the lips. Your long hair flowed down your head to hide your joined faces, tickling his cheeks. He chuckled and bite your lower lip. "Mmm-," he muttered.

He let his ring finger, that has a ring on it, go inside of your pussy, draw circles inside as well. His middle finger followed the lead and filled you. He was stroking your walls with his fingers, readying you what you actually wanted. Should he keep fucking you like that? Yet, he sensed you did not have that much patience.

Kento cut the kiss, and repositioned you with his strong arms as your tits will be above his face. You grabbed the headboard so as not to squish his face. He kept his touches in your pussy while the other hand previously in your hip was now grabbing one boob at a time and leading her in his mouth. He was nibbling your nipples playfully. You were making quiet sex noises as he worked on you in two ends.

Your cunt was dripping enough, almost ready to go to the orgasm phase. He thought she must be ready, so he abruptly grabbed your waist with his big hands and positioned your hip on his. His one hand directed his cock to your entrance, and let you sink him in.

Finally reaching your goal, you couldn't stay open eyed and without honest reactions. "Ah, ah,-"s were escaping from your mouth while your cunt started clenching around and sucking him. Having his cock inside that sudden was not usual. Your cunt is familiar with his girth, yet instant movement caught you unexpectedly, with a new experience of a better pleasure. You fell deep on his torso. He let you adjust to his presence in your cunt, as he moved your socks from your feet, knowing that you hate wearing socks during sex, and that you would be warm enough with the intimacy. Now both of you were completely naked.

He massaged your bare feet and heels. "How is that, baby girl, talk to me." Then stroked your back, brushing your long hair with his long fingers, hugged your shoulders. "Ready to move?" he asked gently.

-------

PART 2

"Yes, Kento, please." you said, tried to stand on your palms, eventually on your knees pressed on the bed from two sides of his hips.

He held your waist, and assisted you to move your hips for little circles around his cock. His cock inside of your cunt was touching every corner and surface of your walls, making you feel so good. Then, he stopped holding you, giving you full control, instead dealing with your tits, watching their slight movement depending on you, giving them small touches.

You improved your circles to bigger ones, then bent over your back, placed your hands to his thighs, and started to bounce on your hips. His tip was directly hitting your front wall every time you took him in, and stimulated your G-spot beautifully.

He was watching you, his beautiful girlfriend, taking what she needed. His fingertips were on your toes, caressing wherever he could reach. He placed his palm on your tummy, long fingers touching your belly button, started rubbing your clit with his thumb. "That is it baby, go get what you need." he said calmly.

"Yess, Kento..." His adoration of you made you even more turned on, yet you were getting tired from your legs. Closer to your orgasm, the sloppier your legs became.

"Getting tired?" he asked while you were trying to move up and down on him.

"Mm..." you couldn't talk. Your movements faded away as you stood yourself, and moved your hips forward and backward on his cock.

"Let me help you, my love." He bent you closer to him, kissed your forehead. He supported himself on the bed, and started to thrust into you in a regular pace. This time you were playing with his nipples.

"Himm..." a whimper goes from him.

His pace accelerated slowly, eventually rocking on your cervix.

"Ah, ah, ah-" you were screaming. He started to rub your clit intensely again resulting in you finally hit your climax.

"Take it, love, you did a great job." He kept trusting in you throughout your relief, slowed down gradually as your relaxation took you over. "A little quieter baby, let's not wake anyone." And when he finally stopped thrusting, he circled in you as you stood on his hip, giving you extra simulation.

You were breathing heavily, as he gave you last individual sharp thrusts. He finally settled on bed, took you from his dick to his lab, got you closer to himself, hugged your waist. Your hair stuck to your sweaty neck, where he pulled you so that he could give you a kiss there.

"How was it? Did my girl enjoy?" he asked while freeing your hair from your back, exhaling your neck to cool you down.

You chuckled and nodded. Your foot was rubbing his still hard dick as you tried to seduce him more with your teeth working on his ear after your small break. "I need more." you stated.

"More?" he asked, pretending as if it was unexpected. He knew you were not done yet. If he was any suspicious at all, he would finish himself with you. No, there were other paths to go that morning.

------

A/n: I wonder your thoughts, let me know in the comments, please! Part 3 & 4 will come friday or saturday, Satoru will be included as mutual friend. I might edit the errors from time to time.

Part 3 & 4 are out now, click this link! 💃

.

.

[roosterbruiser]

would you perhaps be able to do “please talk to me” from the angst list with bradley?🥺👉🏻👈🏻

when Rooster wakes up, he doesn't get even one moment of normalcy. usually when he wakes up beside your sprawled figure, he peppers your shoulders with lazy kisses. then slink out of bed, brushes his teeth, slips into his tennis shoes, and goes for a run down the shoreline. sometimes he even watches the sunrise there, panting, taking an earbud out to hear the gulls caw. sometimes he'll even grab smoothies for the both of you on his way home, and hop in the shower as you finally woke up, lips wrapped half-heartedly around a neon straw.

but you're not in bed when his eyes flicker open for the first time today. your side of the bed is crumpled, cold. you've been out of bed for a while.

the morning light is gray--not an early morning gray, but an endless slate. one that means rain, probably.

he glances at the clock, head muddled from his deep sleep, and sees that it's almost 11am. he sits up, brows furrowed, and feels that hollowness grow inside of him immediately. it's like a jolt--something that infects wholly and completely immediately.

oh. his body is reminding him.

today is November 7th.

how could he forget?

instead of jumping out of bed like he usually does, which is a habit he vaguely remembers his father having, he allows his shoulders to slump and his chest deflate. he sinks back into the covers, feels his eyes grow heavy, and pulls the blankets up beneath his chin.

there are two days of the year that Bradley lets himself stay in bed all day: July 29th and today. the anniversary of both of his parents deaths.

you're trying to balance this goddamn tray of food as you walk up the stairs in your monkey slippers, cursing yourself for settling so many beverages on here. does Bradley really need three choices?

whatever, you think. he'll have his pick of the litter at least.

the bedroom door is cracked just enough for you to carefully back your elbow into--just enough for you to step into the room in near-silence except for the shivering glass on the metal tray in your hands.

honestly, you're expecting Bradley to be asleep still. he slept in on that hot day in July, didn't say much at all, just pressed his face against your belly and let M*A*S*H reruns play all day. after, you'd felt guilty; you hadn't done much to make him feel better, stupefied from being this close to such palpable grief. your only prerogative was being there for him, which is how you ended up staying beneath the sheets despite the heat.

but you find Rooster's knit brows and glossy eyes immediately. in your spot in the doorway, you freeze, then grin.

"well, good morning, merry sunshine!" you say softly. "how'd you sleep?"

Bradley's just staring at you, eyes moving from the tray and back up to your wanton gaze as he slowly begins to sit up against the headboard.

"fine," he tells you.

"thought you'd still be asleep," you tell him, shuffling to the bedside carefully. "hope I didn't leave you waiting too long! and I hope you're hungry, 'cause I made a little bit of everything."

Rooster, stunned, just watches you with his hands in his lap. you're wearing his class t-shirt from high school and an old pair of cotton underwear, your eyes bleary and your hair untouched. but all the same, you're grinning at him, nodding for him to move his hands from his lap.

"for your drink selection, we've got coffee, orange juice, and a strawnana smoothie--if you're feeling frisky. for our meats we've got turkey bacon, Impossible Sausage, regular bacon, and--well, are eggs meat? no, right? okay, moving on," you say, shrugging as you point to all the foods as you list. "then we've got scrambled eggs--lots of cheddar cheese and no sage this time, okay? I won't do that ever again, baby, I promise!" you press a lewd and sweet kiss to his forehead before continuing. "and then we've got two pieces of French toast with maple syrup--like that healthy kind you like, the one that gets, like, milked from the trees or whatever. we've also got a short stack of buttermilk pancakes with the sprinkles I know you like but you won't admit it, so we'll say that I like sprinkles in my pancakes! and then the usual suspects--grapefruit, cinnamon oatmeal, sliced apples, grits. pick your poison!"

and that is when Bradley suddenly lets his head tip forward, tears spurring from his eyes suddenly as if a spice had been broken.

oh fuck. this isn't what you meant to happen.

"baby?" you ask tentatively, holding the back of his head with a frown planted on your lips. "I was just kidding about the sprinkles."

with his face angled down, he can see those stupid monkey slippers on your feet. he can see the eggs you made just right, leaving out the sage you sometimes like to sneak in. he can see the different beverages and the rainbow sprinkles. he can even see the sly nibble you took out of his French toast.

he is totally and completely overwhelmed--but it isn't by grief right now. it's love. love and affection and honey and everything else in the world that is sweet and perfect.

"talk to me, baby," you whisper, shuffling to move the tray from his lap and sitting on the bed. he immediately lets his face fall on your shoulder, choking on his sobs. "please."

November 7th was the worst day of his life--one of them, at least. it was when his mother let go, moved on, left him behind. he remembers how peaceful it was when she was gone: all the monitors turned off, the IV drips empty, her face slacked and serene. and he remembers being so angry about it all--why did she have to go to be okay again?

but now it's November 7th and he's eating breakfast in bed and you're in your monkey slippers and those old panties and stroking his hair. he feels entirely swollen with it--love.

"I love you so much," he tells you, unable to put it any differently. "and I really do like sprinkles in my pancakes."

the knot in your throat dissipates at his words. you never push him to talk about his grief--only nurture it when he trusts you enough to speak on it.

so, you kiss his head a few times, hold him against you.

"that was really brave of you to admit," you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips.

he laughs through his tears, sniffling, tracing your spine with his fingers delicately.

"I know," he sniffles. not so subtly, he wipes his nose on your tee. you don't mind it one bit. "you're my best friend."

"me?" you whisper, voice thin with emotion. but you know that you can't start crying, too. so, you clear your throat. "you must be a real loser then."

he laughs weakly, inhaling all that sleep on your skin.

"yeah," he agrees. "I must."