#idk why it peeled soup's face!!!

[vigilbutts]

my homestead is now the flesh dimension???

[lemonlover1110]

Hello! I hope you are doing well 😌 you are my fav writer and I just wanted to to throw out this crazy brainrot request to u bc I am SICK over it

So Florence nightingale syndrome right? Toji is like a professional boxer or whatever something athletic bc he's a fucking beast and he gets hurt, like his leg or something, and you become his at home occupational therapist. So you're like taking care of him and he's getting feelings for you while also being a stubborn ass bc u push him constantly so he can get better. and he's super hesitant to accept his feelings bc he's a Playboy of course.

I'm just picturing this one scene where you're helping him up and he's leaning on you and he says something like "are you sure you can handle me princess?" Idk I'm insane I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭

Pairing: boxer!Toji Fushiguro x f!caregiver!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, frustrated Toji, Florence nightingale syndrome, Toji has an injured leg and is a little bitch for a bit

*This was so fun to work on and now I'm having thinking a little too hard about boxer toji (I'm ovulating) sofjsof enjoy!

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Toji never really thought he’d be dependent on someone, yet now he can’t even take a shower standing up. After an unlucky boxing match, Toji ended up in a cast and crutches. That’s what he gets for not listening to his son who told him it was around time to retire.

“I’m not a fucking skeleton, I’m good in my field. I can do this for a couple more years.” How he wishes he could swallow his fucking words. He thought that after getting the cast off he’d go back to normal, and he’d have no issue with mobility. He shouldn’t have an issue moving his fucking leg again, he’s been moving it for more than thirty years, why should three months of not moving it change much?

Apparently he can’t do anything, which is why he has someone with him all day every day, helping him so he can get better. Toji’s main issue? He gets frustrated when someone tries to help him. 

“Be careful, it’s hot.” You smile at him as you put his dinner in front of him. He has a scowl on his face as you set it down in front of him. He tried to help make dinner but he couldn’t stand for too long. He’s mad, but not at you. He could never be mad at you. 

Toji wasn’t necessarily fond of you when you started working with him; he hates being dependent on someone else, and he knew that he would have to depend on you for pretty much everything. You try to help him though, and he should be more appreciative of you because of it, but in reality he feels like a fucking baby. He’s grown to like you though… A little too much for his liking. 

You leave him to eat, going to wash the dishes since he can’t do the task yet. Perhaps his own bowl and spoon, but not everything that needs to be cleaned. You watch him from the counter, watching his refusal to pick up the spoon and eat the soup you made him. Earlier he was so prideful, telling you that he would help you every step of the way during dinner, and he couldn’t even finish one third of it. You were proud of him regardless.

“It’s really good, Toji! The potatoes you helped peel really added a touch to it.” You’ve gotten close enough to be on a first name basis. You see each other every day, you stay in the same house, of course you’re close enough to talk to each other so casually. It doesn’t mean you should though. You’ve always managed to keep a very professional relationship with patients, but there’s just something about him that makes it hard for you to be normal around him.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking kid.” He says, pushing the bowl of soup away. He’s not hungry anymore. Toji stands up, his hands holding on to the table to support himself before grabbing his crutches. 

“Toji, if you’re not eating it, can you try to bring it over to me, please?” You ask. You know the soup has cooled down, if he spills it, he’ll be fine.

“If you want it, pick it up yourself.” Toji is clearly mad. You don’t take it to heart though, because you know it’s with himself and not you. 

“How about we go to the park tomorrow? It’s supposed to be a nice day out.” You talk to Toji who tries to watch a documentary. He’s not all that interested in what he put on, caring more about what you have to say. He might not show it, and he tries to deny it, but he has the biggest soft spot for you. “We can also get some ice cream, if you’re in the mood!”

“Hey… I’m sorry about earlier. I was just—” It’s hard to get an apology out of him, but sometimes he knows he’s in the wrong and he feels the need to apologize. He doesn’t want you to be mad at him, even though you’re clearly not upset with him. You’re so understanding and patient with him, he feels like he doesn’t deserve that.

“You’re fine, Toji.” You reassure him with a smile, your hand going over his balled up fist. You feel your heart skip a beat as you touch him. You’ve crossed the line past a professional relationship, and you should set some boundaries within yourself– But his other hand goes on top of your own before he brings it up, softly kissing your knuckles. It’s hard to set boundaries when he feels the same way.

“I’m tired.” He tells you, and you stand up to help him get up. Toji usually denies your help, but this time, he has no problem accepting it. You just want the best for him, and there’s some things that he can’t do completely alone. He has to take baby steps. He’s using you for support, and he’s scared that he’s too heavy for you. He asks you, “Are you sure, princess? Can you handle me? I know I’m pretty big.”

“You’re fine. I can handle you.” You reassure him, and you begin to walk to his bedroom. His room was previously on the second floor, but ever since his injury, he’s moved his bedroom to the first floor. You get him to his bedroom, helping him on the bed. You smile at him before saying, “Let me grab your crutches. You left them in the living room, right?”

Before you can walk away, he grabs your sleeve. Toji’s slowly realizing that he can’t fight off the feelings that consume him when you help him, and he’s usually not a fan of them. Toji’s been tied down once before, he certainly doesn’t want that again. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t mind the idea.

“Will you lay down with me?” He asks, and you suck in your bottom lip between your teeth. You shouldn’t. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand before he prompts himself up to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Toji, you know this isn’t something I can do.” You tell him as he looks lovingly into your eyes. “I’m here to help you get better.”

“You can help me get better by laying down next to me.” Toji responds. You grab the hand that so lovingly touches your cheek and kiss it, before bringing your lips down to meet his momentarily. He swears he hears fireworks when your lips meet, even after you pull away.

He’s most definitely in love with you.

“I’ll go get your crutches. Good night, Toji.”

[auxmodi]

kitchen visit 🧄

my masterlist

summary : you’re making soup for the guards at Winterfell, and as usual, Sandor shows up to complain. But as he sticks around, you realize there’s more to his grumbling than he lets on. #wholesome

a/n: idk why but sandor can DEFINITELY cook, like he would be the best husband.

word count: 743

The soup bubbled gently in the pot, filling the Winterfell kitchens with the rich aroma of herbs and roasted marrow. You stirred it with steady hands, checking the consistency and seasoning as you hummed softly to yourself. Feeding the guards was no small task, but it was one you’d grown to love, despite the grumbling and ungrateful looks you sometimes got.

The familiar sound of the heavy door creaking open didn’t even make you look up anymore. “Evening, Sandor,” you called without turning.

“Evening,” he replied, his voice as rough as the scrape of a blade against stone. “Smells better than what they served yesterday.”

You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his perpetual scowl firmly in place. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The thud of his boots followed as he crossed the room. You didn’t need to turn to know he was making a slow line for the worktable, the same way he always did. He liked to pretend he wasn’t lingering, that he wasn’t drawn here night after night by the warmth of the kitchen, the crackling firelight dancing on stone walls, or though he’d never admit it, you.

You turned back to your soup, expecting him to make a snide comment and leave like usual, but instead, you heard the soft thud of something being set down.

Glancing over, you saw Sandor standing at the table, pulling a small bundle of wild garlic from a pouch. He began peeling the cloves without a word.

“What’s this?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Stuff,” he muttered, already rolling up his sleeves like he planned to get his hands dirty. “Found ’em near the woods. Figured you’d need somethin’ to stop this soup from being a pot of piss water.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. Sandor Clegane didn’t “find” things for people, certainly not for you. The gruff, battle-worn man was many things, but thoughtful wasn’t one of them. Or so you’d thought.

“Thoughtful of you,” you said softly, your teasing tone replaced by something quieter.

“Thoughtful, my arse,” he snapped, grabbing a knife from the block and slamming a garlic clove onto the cutting board with a little too much force. “If the guards eat another pot of watered-down slop, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head as you turned back to the pot. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you’re awfully invested in this soup.”

He grumbled something unintelligible, but you caught the faintest twitch of his mouth, like he was fighting a smirk. Sandor Clegane, the Hound himself, standing in your kitchen, smashing garlic with all the ferocity of someone cutting down enemies in battle. It was a sight you’d never thought you’d get used to. But here he was.

The scent of garlic filled the air as you worked together, neither of you commenting on how natural it felt. His rough hands, scarred and strong, moved with surprising skill, tossing the garlic into the pot without waiting for instruction.

“You’re not bad at this, you know,” you said after a moment, tasting the broth. “Maybe in another life, you’d have been a cook instead of killing people.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “What, chained to a kitchen, makin’ pies and stews for lords and ladies? I’d rather rot.”

“You say that,” you teased, “but you’re always here. Starting to think you might actually like it.”

His knife paused mid-slice, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back with one of his usual gruff retorts. Instead, he shrugged. “Better company than the courtyard,” he muttered, almost too quiet for you to catch.

You blinked at his words, a flicker of surprise crossing your face, but you kept your focus on the soup. Quietly, you grabbed a spoon and tasted it, the warmth spreading through you, rich and hearty with just the right amount of sharpness from the garlic. “It’s perfect,” you murmured, glancing at Sandor.

His boots already thudded against the stone floor as he walked to the door, pausing for a moment with one hand on the frame. “Eat your damn share before those idiots get to it,” he muttered, glancing back at you briefly before pulling the door open.

You watched him leave, the heavy door closing with a creak. A quiet laugh slipped from your lips as you looked back at the pot. For all his roughness, Sandor had a way of looking out for you that felt almost tender, though he’d never call it that.

[tiredlilguy]

I’m writing from my phone because I have carpel tunnel and my hands hurt. Take these randomly assorted BSD hc’s:

(possible SB spoilers, but just the characters)

- Albatross has every piercing under the sun: like he’s got a nose ring, eyebrow piercing, snakebites… anything u can think of

- Oda wears rings 🤤, plays with them when he gets anxious (he’s also my husband)

- Chuuya is a summer child (born in the summer), so he love it when it’s hot af outside and drags his friends outside to go eat lunch with him or smth (HES HUMAN IN MY HEART STFU, I DONT WANNA HEAR IT RN)

- opposite to Chuuya, Dazai is a winter baby, but he also hates the cold

- sometimes Adam sends Chuuya random incriminated texts on his phone. It’s usually just something silly like “Hello! I hope you’re eating sugar and growing very healthy.” Or maybe a random fact like “Did you know that cows have a strong��sense of smell? They can perceive smells at a distance of up to ten kilometres.” Chuuya will usually not respond back, but he scoffs and lets out a small laugh to himself before closing his phone

- Ango hates bugs, he will cry if he sees a spider sitting on his paperwork

- Oda and Ango when drunk are very enthusiastic and energetic. Oda will dance on the counter while pretending his glass is a mic. Ango will join him too- The only person that knows this side to them is Dazai

- animals love sigma for some reason. Like Disney princess style love sigma. Sigma however, hates that this happens to him, and actively avoids walking in forests or places where animals usually reside.

- Oda is a good dancer, like good… old style bar dancer. He’s quite impressive actually, and it’s attractive-

- Chuuya and Albatross both have heterochromia.

- Literally no one except for Chuuya has seen Albatross with his sunglasses off. That shit is basically glued to his face

- Verlaine is bougie as hell. Like I know he’s Mafia, but I think it’d be funny if he was… more bougie than like everyone else in the Mafia. Like he actively buys and wears expensive shit.

- Verlaine has a good hair routine.

- Doc may or may not have a plushie collection. And they may or may not all be sea animals

- Kunikida seems like he’d have an emo phase. Idk why… I just think he would.

- Despite only using one bar of soap for showering, Atsushi actually smells really nice for some reason (he smells like lavender)

- lippman is a swiftie, doc is a barb (I discussed this with one of my moots and now I can’t stop thinking about it)

- since it’s hinted is SB that Lippman would still make ppl fold at him wearing feminine clothes, I hc that he does not rly give a shit about gender or what one should/should not wear

- Chuuya has taken this tip from Lippman and has worn skirts before with his outfits

- the real reason why akutagawa dislikes mandarins (that’s canon btw) is because one time he was offered one to eat and as he was peeling it the mandarin juice got in his eye and he chopped it up into bits out of anger

- Chuuya only ate bread and soup when he was in the Sheep, since then Kouyou has introduced him to the finer foods in life, and Albatross introduced him to junk food

- Dazai used Chuuya’s shower when he was in the Mafia because he didn’t have a shower in that old ass storage container

- Oda does not pay for haircuts. He cuts his own hair, and one time he was too busy so he had to tie it up in a low pony

- Kunikida likes things that are weighted (weighted blankets, etc)

- Oda’s a little bit tanned because of jobs that have to do with being outside in the sun for long periods of time

Ok that’s all. Enjoy. I should make an Odasaku hc list because he is my absolute favorite character (next to the flags). Let me know if u want a specific bsd character hc. I will write it >:3 (also please tell me ur hc’s too. I love hc’s) I’m gonna eat lunch now.

[icarus-suraki]

Oh lol the long, maybe slow burn(?), maybe-xiyao-maybe-not, post-CQL!canon monster where wwx and lwj rescue this kid and bring him back to Cloud Recesses...

...(as a hiding place because that's canon) and give him the job of working for lxc while he's in confinement (in my mind it's also kind of "gentleman in hiding" or 隐士 [I think I got that right] but anyway). Anyway, this kid actually has a lot going on but he's keeping it a secret. The problem is...he looks a little too much like young Meng Yao (so is this transmigration? with amnesia? I don't know). Well, fuck. So wwx comes up with this idea that the kid (his name is Zhou Yi) should wear something to cover his face because while he's acting as a servant for lxc, lxc is technically removed from public and other people. So if Zhou Yi wears a covering, then he's not "a person" but he's another piece of furniture or some other useful item--and lxc won't see the similarities between ZY and young!MY. Wangxian pays a visit to LXC with the kid, drop him off, and there's a long span of slowly becoming accustomed to each other and ZY cleaning up the slightly ramshackle house LXC is now living in (without talismans or help because LXC doesn't use them, with ZY learning what LXC will permit him to do--which includes bringing his meals to him, except that LXC is refusing to eat, his cultivation is waning, he's growing ill. ZY finally begs him to eat, kneeling on the floor and holding up a bowl of hot soup (burning his fingers), because if LXC "fades away" (ZY's term) then where will "your servant" go??? So LXC relents and actually eats (a little). It's a bonding experience. The seasons move on and it's autumn and ZY is peeling apples outside and LXC finds him asleep in the sun--which is cute and all but it's not actually as cute as it seems because ZY has a kind of curse in his skin that's more or less Sailor Moon-style draining his energy. So he sometimes just conks out cold.

At some point, the head of a sect that's rising in importance pays a visit to Cloud Recesses and he's received...politely. ZY was, for whatever reason, sent out into the hills around CR to look for persimmons (though it's kind of early? won't they be sour?). As he's walking around he sees this leader and, whoops! Time to hide (with the rabbits who are hopping around in the grass). This other leader is like "I would like to pay a call on Zewu-jun..." And Wangxian are like "No dice. He's put himself in confinement." So are you picking up what I'm putting down here? (An aside: at some point, probably one night, ZY will think LXC is asleep/meditating deeply and takes off his mask/face cover but LXC is not quite asleep and sees him and there's gotta be a serious amount of shock at seeing, you know, someone who looks like young!MY crouched by the fire in this ramshackle house--idk, flashbacks for lxc, I guess. So that might be where he stops eating and really withdraws into himself and finally comes out of it with soup &c &c but idk how to keep that IC, yk?)

I have lots of bits and pieces hereafter, like getting the curse out of ZY's skin (which sucks) and ZY going back to his family house (which, spoilers, has been usurped by that visiting leader, which is why ZY had to flee in the first place). I kind of want the Zhou family in this story to know about poison? Because that would be cool?

More spoilers: yes, there's a happy ending. But it would be a beast to write everything to get there.

There.

What's the fic you would write if you had the energy for it? Ambitious, complex, novel-length—the fanfic you'd make if you could.

[sootends]

human soup (aka the most fucke dup dream i have ever had)

okay so idk about you guys but i exclusively have horrible disgusting nightmares and this one was the worst of them all. i had it years ago but i still remember it vividly and it still haunts me.

first of all, i wasnt even in this dream, all i could do was watch what my brain was showing me, and man it really decided to show off. camera angles and wideshots and all sorts of fancy camera movements usually reserved for films and documentaries were implemented for the viewing of this dream.

anyway, the actual contents of the dream. the whole thing took place at this camp right, modeled after the concentration camps i think, it was a place people were sent to die. there were a few building that sat in a circle, and in the center was a man-made ‘lake’. thankfully i didnt have to see tt iy in action, but i knew (dream logic) that there were giant metal plates under the ‘lake’ that could heat it up to boiling if desired.

the prisoners looked ghastly. they had been given no clothes and were forced to walk around naked. every bit of hair on their bodies had been chemically removed, their skin had been badly bleached and was a sickly white or grey (many of them peeling or sporting infections), they had been strategically starved so all of them were just skin and bones.

the guards didnt show their faces, they wore white hazmat suits, shiny black shoulder length gloves, and comically oversized gas masks. they brought out some of the prisoners like they were doing a demonstration there were these cages that they would stuff 4-5 people in at a time. thing is, those cages werent nearly big enough for that many people, so the guards would break bones or cut off appendages to make everyone fit. one poor mans face had been squished against the floor and i will never forget the way he screamed and cried. the people clawed at the bars, reaching their skeletal arms through to try and grab on to something, anything.

behind the previously mentioned ‘lake’ was a big orange crane. one of the guards jumped in and lowered the hook, grabbing the cage of people and lifting it into the air. their screams echoed over the whole camp.

at this point you may be wondering why lake has been in quotes and i will tell you. it isnt really a lake, and it isnt filled with water. its about shin deep, doesnt even reach a short persons knees, and it is filled with human shit, piss, blood, vomit, and rotting decaying flesh. cages of people were scattered all over the lake, most were dead but some still lived, forced to marinate in filth until their death. i think the worst part was hearing the gurgling sounds from people who were unlucky enough to be stuck at the bottom of those tiny cages, but at least they drowned and it was over quickly. those who could still breathe just had to sit and wait until they died.

 the lake had been nicknamed human soup by the guards.

the crane drops the cage into the lake, and they just leave them there. no one escapes the human soup. at this point in my dream, the camera decided to move in close to the surface of the lake. it moved past several of the cages giving me an up close and personal look at the people dying here. finally, it stopped at a cage with a man leaned against the bars, his knees tucked up against his chest and i watched as his jaw rotted off his face and fell into the shallow abyss.

that was the last thing i saw in that dream. i dont know why my brain decided to show it to me, and it haunts me to this day!

[warmblanketwhump]

Idk if its too late to send this in but if it isn't, how about ⬤ and ✿?

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

⬤: being called soft things like baby, sweetheart or honey

(note: this MIGHT be cheating but my poor brain was stuck on ideas SO this is a part two to this prompt fill! would recommend reading that first for context, but pretty sure you can enjoy them independently :)

To any other person, the remote cabin would have looked like any old shack – slightly dilapidated, covered in moss, nested away among the trees. But to a lost, soaked, chilled-to-the-bone A, the cabin looks like a warm little slice of heaven, and it takes all they have not to run up the stairs. Instead, they slide an injured B off of their back and help them hobble to the small porch.

The pair limp across the threshold of the cabin and leave the pattering rain behind them, entering a small, spotlessly clean living room that smells of cedar and pine. A large, squashy-looking couch faces a dark fireplace with a tall stack of split logs nearby, and to the right of the doorway is a small kitchen. In the back, A spots a darkened bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and a linen closet. The cabin's rustic, so there's no electricity or hot water - just a single spigot and a gas stove for cooking.

They set a trembling B on the couch, pushing away the guilt of yelling at them earlier, of making them come out here in the first place.

“I’ll find us some towels and blankets. Can you start getting your wet clothes off?” Amid their violent shivers, B nods and starts shedding A’s raincoat and their own denim jacket with pruned, fumbling fingers. The sight nearly crushes A, but they know someone has to go find blankets to help them both get warm.

A pushes into the bathroom and locates several clean, threadbare towels, then heads to the linen closet. They nearly burst into happy tears when they see the large bundle of hideous plaid blankets and a couple piles of flannel and thermal clothing stacked neatly in the corner (forgotten by whoever rented it last, they guessed) and grab as much as their numb fingers can hold.

When they return to the couch, they find B in nearly the exact spot they left them - denim jacket off one arm, on the other, rain jacket fallen to the floor. They're hunched over, stiff with cold, arms crossed tightly.

“Oh sweetheart.…” A sighs, dropping the blankets on the couch and rushing to them.

“T-tried to ch-change. F-fingers won't-t work-k. I’m s-sorry-”

“B, you have nothing to be sorry about. I should’ve helped you in the first place.” A unthreads the soaked clothing from B’s shaking frame, gently patting their wet skin dry and lightly squeezing the water droplets out of their hair with a towel.

B’s eyes are bleary and unfocused, but they respond to A’s simple commands as they dress them in a pair of warm red flannel pants and a grey thermal long-sleeve. A casts a glance towards B's swollen ankle - it's not the worst injury they've ever seen, but it's definitely got to hurt. They dart back to the bathroom and locate a small first aid kit with a cloth bandage, and tenderly wrap up the sore ankle to immobilize it.

When they’re finished, they wrap B in two blankets: one around their legs and elevated ankle, and the other over their wet head and trembling shoulders. B sneezes, cinches the blanket tighter and groans.

“Look-k like a Russian p-peasant woman.” B grumbles, and A can’t help but let a chuckle escape. They really do look like a grandma, with only their face sticking out of the blanket cape.

“Alright, then, babushka. Let me get a fire started, and I’ll join you in a minute.”

Mercifully, it only takes a few minutes for A to get a roaring fire going. A drapes another blanket around B's shoulders and gives them a quick, reassuring rub.

“I’m gonna change, okay? You just worry about warming up.” B moans weakly and pulls the blanket over their nose, edging closer to the flame’s heat.

A peels off their wet clothing in the drafty bedroom, hurriedly drying their own cold skin and pulling on their own warm clothes - a cream thermal and blue flannel pants. The brief exposure makes them shiver, and they chafe their arms and legs to rub away the goosebumps and the damp chill that sinks into their marrow. For just a moment, they acknowledge how cold they are, too. God, they wish this place had hot water.

The adrenaline of the moment begins to fade, and several facts strike them at once. They were freezing. They were stuck in a remote cabin with no electricity for the weekend. This whole weekend was their idea - and all their fault. And they felt guilty as hell about it.

Squeezing their wet hair, they shove the intrusive thoughts from their mind and grab a blanket from the bed to wrap tightly around their own shoulders, along with a couple pillows from the bed for B.

On returning to the living room, they see B managed to hop on their one good leg over to the fire, leaving a trail of two of their other blankets behind. They’re huddled as close as possible to the warm glow, head resting on the hearth. A drops the pillows on the couch and kneels down, running their fingers through B’s damp hair, now exposed by the fallen blanket.

“Feeling any better, love?”

B gives a small, wan smile that fails to light up their peaked face and shakes their head, turning to cough. When they’ve finished, they shudder weakly, pulling the blanket tighter.

“Can’t shake the chill in my bones.” B coughs again. A can see them rubbing their arms under the blankets. “Heat’s bouncing right off me. And I ache all over, not just my ankle.” Another chill rattles their teeth, and they pull the blanket up to their chin. “I just can’t warm up at all.”

A pulls a shivery B into a hug, rubbing their shoulders and trying to share the little body heat they’ve created - unlike B, the fire’s warmth is beginning to thaw them out. In the dim firelight, A can see a sheen of sweat on B’s forehead, and alarm bells go off. Instinctively, A reaches out to press their cold hand to it. It’s warm now. Too warm for someone who just spent two hours trekking through the cold rain.

"Sweetheart, you're feverish. That’s why you’re achy and chilled.”

“S’pose it makes sense. I’m just freezing.” A gust of wind rattles the cabin, and a draft snakes its way into the living room, making B shudder and curl up even closer to A. “I’d kill for a hot shower right now.”

“Don’t go all ‘The Shining’ on me yet - we just got here.” A grabs a towel to try and further dry B’s damp hair. It was probably an old wives’ tale, but they didn’t have many options to keep a sick person comfortable out here, and wet hair couldn’t feel good.

B had complained about feeling a cold coming on a couple days ago, and mentioned that they might not want to go this weekend. A had made fun of them for it, joking about how someone like B never let a little cold get them down. And now, thanks to them, B was even sicker. They really were the worst friend in history.

“Do you think you could manage some tea?" A asks quietly. B closes their eyes and nods, laying their head back on the hearth.


It takes a few minutes, but A manages to light the gas stove and locate a kettle, along with a dusty box of herbal tea tucked away in a cupboard. Whoever they had rented from had stocked it high with all kinds of canned soups and dry goods, so at least they’d be prepared for the long haul.

A sudden glance out the window reveals that the rain has turned into fat, white snowflakes, whirling in the sky and dusting the porch. A rubs their hands together, holding their chilled fingers as close to the stove flame as possible. The kettle whistles and A pours two cups, reveling in the warm steam that tickles their nose.

Once the tea is brewed, they make their way back to the fireplace. B's too weak to lift their own head, so A sits behind them and props them up, holding the teacup and helping them take small sips of the warm liquid. Once the cup is empty, A helps B lay their head back on the hearth before adding a few more logs to the fire and starting on their own tea.

Despite the warm fire, A can feel the ambient temperature of the room dropping. There's no way B's going to stay warm enough in the bedroom, so they’ll just have to make do out here for now.

After pushing the couch until it's just inches in front of the fire, A sweeps B into their arms and helps them back to the couch, easing them gently onto the pillows they've laid and tucking a blanket back around them. Even this close to the fire, the brief movement had set off another round of bone-shaking chills in B, and they grip their blanket so hard A’s afraid they’ll tear it.

“A?" B's voice is weak.

“I’m right here.”

“A, can you hold me? Please?” The desperation is palpable. B’s breathing is hoarse and they're close to tears, arms wrapped tightly around themselves. “Shivering hurts, but I can’t stop. I know you probably don’t want to get sick from me-”

A’s heart breaks. “Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll keep you warm.” They slide onto the couch and wrap their own blanket around the both of them, pulling B’s fevered body to their chest. B clings to their body, and A can feel the shakes that ripple through them. A gently massages their arms and back in slow circles and B presses closer, the vulnerability almost too much to bear.

Finally, A says what’s been eating away at them for hours. “B, I’m so sorry for what I said on the trail. I shouldn’t have said it, and I didn’t mean it. I do want you here. And now we’re here, and you're sick and hurt and it’s my fault, and I’m sorry for that too.” The apology comes out in such a rush, and B is quiet for so long in their arms that they doubt B even heard it.

But then they feel B’s trembling arms squeezing their waist. “Nature’s not your fault, A. Besides, if being taken care of is a part of your apology, it's warm and I'll take it."

A grips B even tighter, fighting back tears. “Whatever happens this weekend, I’ve got you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do. You always have,” B mumbles as they slip into a restless sleep. In front of the warm fire, A reasons that the drafty bedroom was probably too cold for anyone to sleep in. No, they were perfectly content to stay right here with B - and not even the promise of a warm shower could lure them away.

[bibliosophist]

Soft as Bread, Sweet as Honey, Chapter... Idk, 4?

Hi folx! I guess there is more to this story. I’m working on what will be chapter 4 on here, and chapter 2 on AO3. You can read it below the break if you want to, or you can hop on over there and just read the whole thing properly. Beelzebub x Female Reader

Cooking duty is one of the chores at the House of Lamentation that you mind the least. You’ll certainly take it over cleaning the common room. It never ceases to amaze you how much of a mess fully grown men- demons- whatever- can make. Like all chores in the house, everyone takes turns cooking. Unlike other chores, people usually double up on cooking duty on account of there being so many mouths to feed-- especially when one of those mouths belongs to Beelzebub. Your cooking partner this semester is Levi, and though he does more talking than cooking, you’re generally fine with that. His constant stream of anime and game related chatter puts you at ease as you cook.

It had taken some time for you to get familiar with some of the more exotic Devildom ingredients, but you had found many that bore a close resemblance to food you were familiar with from the human world, and whatever you were unfamiliar with you were pretty good at researching on your DDD. You’d found a few Devildom dishes that you were comfortable cooking, but most often you ended up making food inspired by things you’d loved eating in the human world. Tonight you have decided to make okonomiyaki, a personal favourite. It would be easy enough to prepare a large quantity of, and allowed for enough customization of toppings that everyone would end up happy. Plus, you figured, Levi probably wouldn’t mind actually helping-- his fondness for everything Japanese outweighing his innate laziness.

When you enter the spacious kitchen, Levi is nowhere in sight. No matter, you think. You’ll start without him. You busy yourself washing vegetables and preparing a large pan of Covetous Cod fillets to bake. The mild fish, you think, will pair well with the tangy sauce.

You’ve almost finished peeling a pile of yams when you hear a voice behind you.

“Uh, hi.”

That is most certainly not Levi’s voice. Slowly you turn around, meeting Beel’s eyes from where he stands, large frame taking up most of the doorway.

“Hi,” you say back, your stomach fluttering.

This is the first time you’ve been alone together since the incident in the alleyway a few days ago. Between your project with Sibyl and his brothers’ constant presence, you haven’t been able to say two words to each other in private, and thanks to another one of Mammon’s pranks backfiring, the brothers’ texting privileges have once again been temporarily revoked. You briefly considered texting him anyway, but shuddered at the thought of Lucifer finding out and reading your messages. Though you haven’t had any alone time, it hasn’t stopped him from holding your hand under the table when nobody's looking, or smiling at you in the halls.

“Sorry I’m a little late.” A rosy tinge crept into his cheeks. “I got Levi to switch with me, but, uh, I got hungry on the way home and stopped for a few doughnuts.”

You can feel a grin spreading over your face. “You got Levi to switch. How did you manage that?”

“It wasn’t hard. He doesn’t like making anything more complicated than instant noodles.”

You laugh, running the peeler over the yam you’re holding. “So I’ve come to realize. But why did you ask him in the first place? Isn’t this just more work for you? Are you that tired of Ruri-chan Ramen?”

“Instant ramen is good, but I like variety in my meals. I get a little bit bored with just one flavor. Not,” he says, panic on his face, “that your cooking is boring. I like your cooking very much...” he trails off, cheeks on fire.

Your grin widens and you turn back to your task, beginning to grate the yam into fine strips. “I agree. It’s better when there are different, complimenting flavours.” If he doesn’t have a problem with your cooking, could he have come here just to see you? Your heart beats a little bit faster.

“Are you okay with my plan of making okonomiyaki? It’s a human world dish, but it’s really versatile. I think it will work well with the ingredients we have here.”

“Ah, yeah, I’ve had that before when I visited up there,” he says, pointing at the ceiling.

“Is it really “up” from here? Like, if I sprouted wings and flew straight up, would I get to the human world eventually?”

“I’m not sure,” he laughs, “I don’t know if anyone has ever tried getting there without using a portal.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” you say, gathering the grated yam into a bowl and beginning to thinly slice cabbage. “The cod is already baking. It should be done in a few minutes. Do you want to start on the batter for the pancakes?”

He nods, coming to stand beside you at the counter. “I can do that. Can you tell me how?”

“I actually wrote the instructions out over here,” you say, gesturing to a piece of paper.

“So...” you trail off, keenly aware of how close he’s standing to you. “What kinds of things do you like cooking?”

“Oh, um. I don’t think anybody has ever asked me that before. Usually they only ask me what I want to eat,” he says. When you glance over at him, he’s got a finger in his mouth. You suspect he’s just dipped it in the flour. You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips again, or the memory of how his skin tasted. Thankfully you don’t think he’s noticed you peering at him, because he keeps talking. “I guess I like grilling best. It’s pretty quick, and you get to watch the whole thing. It’s not like baking. That’s frustrating.”

“I don’t have the patience for baking either,” you say, resting your hip against the island as you watch Beel begin to crack eggs into his bowl. “One wrong measurement and the whole thing is ruined. Oh, hang on, you’ve got an eggshell in your batter.” You reach over, plucking the tiny fragment of shell out and wiping it on a teatowel.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s completely fine, it happens. That looks good, now just stir it all together.”

“Is it supposed to be kind of... runny?”

“Sure,” you say, carrying over the bowls of vegetables, “if it’s too thick, it won’t cook through properly. Here,” you reach into the bowl, transferring handfuls of cabbage and yam into the batter. “Make sure the vegetables get well coated. I’m going to take the fish out.”

“Thank you for letting me help,” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sliding protective mitts over your hands before opening the oven. It smells incredible, and your stomach rumbles. Normally you’d cut off a big chunk and snack on it while you finished cooking-- Levi had usually wandered off by this point in the process-- but you’re acutely aware that it’s not Levi standing behind you.

“Well, usually my cooking partner is Lucifer. He likes things the way he likes them. And...” he trails off, bringing the batter over to the stove. He looks a little dazed, eyes locked on the pan of cod. “That smells incredible.”

“Thanks. I hope it tastes as good as it smells. Wait- no!” Your warning comes too late, he’s already reached out to pinch off a corner of the flakey flesh. He hisses in pain, pulling his fingers back, shaking them vigorously.

“That’s another reason he doesn’t like me in the kitchen with him,” he says bashfully.

“Come here,” you say, taking his other hand and leading him across the room to the faucet. You turn the cold tap on and test it with your own hand before taking his injured one and running it under the chilly water. “Is that better?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he mumbles, cheeks pinker than his fingers. “I have a hard time controlling myself. It’s like I know better, but I forget when there’s food around.”

You chuckle, rotating his hand under the stream. “I get that. Normally I snack while I cook. I don’t like waiting either. Then I end up eating way more than I should.”

He nods along with your words. “I do the same thing. There’s this one soup that Belphie really loves, but every time I try to make it for him, I end up eating it all before it’s ready and have to start all over again.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you say, turning the tap off. You gently dab his hand dry with a clean teatowel. “I’m going to go get the first aid kit from my bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“No, wait,” he says, catching your arm as you turn away from him. “Stay here with me.”

“But your fingers-”

“Already feel much better,” he says, drawing you back to him. Now his eyes are glazed with something other than hunger. He cuts off your protest with a kiss. His lips are so soft and warm; you melt right into him. When your lips move against his he scoops you up in his arms, sitting you on the counter, bringing your face level with his. “I missed you,” he whispers, pulling back to kiss your nose.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back, resting one leg on either side of his hips. You wrap your arms around his neck and your mouth back to his. His hands find your waist and he holds you tight as your tongues explore each other’s mouths. You hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted to touch him these past few days, and now that you are you can’t get enough. Your hands find their way under the collar of his jacket, fingers running over his broad shoulders. You’re in the process of sliding his jacket down his arms when a familiar voice cuts through your haze.

“- getting hungry, do you need any help in- oh.” Breaking apart, you look to the source of the interruption to find Satan standing in the doorway, one hand on his hip and a smirk on his face. “So dinner will be quite late, then.” he says.

“Beel burned his finger,” you blurt.

“Uh-huh,” Satan nods. “And to sooth it he had to stick his tongue down your thro-”

“Get out,” Beel yells, seizing a nearby piece of fruit and throwing it in his brother’s general direction.

Satan steps to the side, smoothly avoiding it. He chuckles. “I’ll tell the others dinner will be a bit late.”

Face absolutely on fire, you hop off of the counter and cross back to the stove. “I’ll just heat up some oil,” you say.

Beel follows after a moment, resting his hands on your hips as you begin cooking the pancakes. “Can we finish that kiss after dinner?” he asks

It takes all your willpower to continue spooning batter in the pan. You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod.

[timextoxhajima]

Member: PWARK SEONGHWAbs

Category: playlist feels one shot

Genre: fluff and smut (idk how this is gonna turn out lol i just couldn’t get the visual of boss/ceo? seonghwa out my head and you’re his secretary and i just--)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: if you haven’t noticed by now, most of my one shots/work don’t really have cliche plots? there are certain tropes/cliches that i don’t really like or i’m just not tuned into being comfortable writing them like eg. boss and employee is pretty nasty, that’s why the chaebol juyeon series turned out like that (i’m not gonna spoil it but if you know, you know that y/n wasn’t just an employee.) so in here, i guess it’s not going to be an exception? i don’t know when the day will come that i will write one that is EXTREMELY cliche and be able to be satisfied/happy with it. 

this is the first smut i’m writing for seonghwa; i’ve only been writing it for san and a tiny bit for mingi and the rest’s literally for juyeon ;_; so i hope i don’t butcher it. 

see you on the other side :D

“니 맘 전부 알고 있어”

“I know your heart”

“oh god--” you shove the food on your spoon into your mouth, nearly throwing it on the table just as the music starts ringing in the room, and he was already resting his chopsticks on the bowl. “please don’t--”

“seonghw-- ugh.”

too late.

“forget it, do whatever you want at your own dinner table. i can’t believe you invited me over just so i have to watch you have your own concert,” the food calls you again, and seonghwa acts like he’s in a drama or a music video. 

“have you finished compiling the contracts from the previous year and making sure everything tallied?” he raises a candid brow at you, his hands reaching out to you as the lyrics ran its course. a frown draws into your forehead, and you swat his hand away, reaching for a piece of fried egg instead of watching him act his heart out. 

“i’m still working on it, but i’ll have it in by the end of tomorrow,” the egg finds its way between your teeth and you push some rice in along with it, fingers finding your phone when it lit up.

“wooyoung’s asking if we’re going to hang out anytime soon.”

you look up through your damp hair and glare at seonghwa, hands still flailing around and his torso following along with the movements. 

it really was a wonder you’ve been friends with him since you were teenagers, and somewhere, somehow, some deity really thought making you the secretary of one of your best friends was a good idea.

initially, you were relieved that your boss was someone you knew as well as you did the back of your hand, but within the first six months of being seonghwa’s secretary, you literally couldn’t help yourself from hurling a file at him once in awhile. 

it wasn’t difficult to catch you screaming at him in the office because he passed out from overworking himself, telling him to go home. not because he was taking a nap, but because you found him sprawled across his desk after working through the night.

that was the day everybody in office found out you were friends from the same circle. 

so whenever anybody had the slightest issue or complaint about their boss, they’d come to you in hopes that you would smack -- or yell -- some sense into him. 

seonghwa had his shitty days and it didn’t stop him from being a terrible boss; you could empathise. but otherwise, he’d be strutting around office and annoying the hell out of both you and your colleagues by giving them sweets, to the extent that someone would wonder just how he was the one everybody needed to address as ‘boss’.

“wooyoung? but hongjoong’s overseas and mingi practically vanished off the face of earth. if he wants to have a meal together, he needs to hunt mingi down first,” the fishcake in the soup suddenly contained enough power to make seonghwa stop rolling his chest and send it into his mouth. 

“i’ll tell him no then,” the message sends and you put the phone back down onto the table. “anyway, the security told me when i left the office that the camera in your office is down and they’ll have someone sent over to fix it over the weekend, so they just told me to relay the message to you.”

“why wouldn’t they just email me?”

your tongue digs into the gap between your gum and your upper lip sa you reach for the glass of coke. “i’m pretty sure they’ve given up emailing you, especially since you don’t use that email address often.”

“hey, i have one for office operations and one for business, is that so wrong?” his defensive tone causes his voice to crack and go off tune, striking a funny bone in you despite already hearing it a billion times over. 

“i didn’t say there’s anything wrong, it’s just annoying when you give someone your email but you don’t even check your inbox,” you finish your last spoonful of rice and chicken, downing the soup to wash down the food. “but anyway, point is, don’t do anything dumb in your office.”

he scoffs, finally returning dedicated focus to his food. the food that he bothered to prepare for you before even telling you he was cooking dinner. it made you obligated to show up, else you’d get an earful from him for being ungrateful. 

“name me one dumb thing i could do in my office,” his cat eyes widen and the whites around his pupils glare at you under the lighting. 

“how would i know?” sucking the grains of rice from the hidden spots in your mouth, letting the water droplets on the side of the coke glass run over your nails and drip off the base. “like have a heart attack and pass out tomorrow, if you choose to stay over time?”

seonghwa stretches his legs under the table, and his sock-covered feet jab you in your ankles. a sharp ‘tsk’ slides out from gritted teeth, and he laughs at your reaction. 

“it’s not peak period for companies to be contacting me now, so that probably won’t happen.”

“well, don’t leave your office door unlocked or something, someone could waltz right in and find your shit and that’ll just might be the end of you.”

“honestly, i thought it  would’ve been funnier if you encouraged me to do more dumb things in the office, since there wouldn’t be any footage of it.”

wincing in disgust, your hands wipe the water off the surface of the coke glass and you flick it at him. a loud snicker blocks out the music for a moment when he ducks and uses his arm as a shield. 

“god forsake i recorded that and told the office you said that,” the coke glass empties itself down your throat, and you help yourself out of the seat to help him clear the dishes. 

“it’s a good thing you’re worth trusting then,” you hear him say loud enough for you to hear while you rest the plates in the sink. 

a chair drags across the floor and the soft clinking of the porcelain plates from the dining table mixes with the water gushing out of the tap. 

if you had to describe your friendship with seonghwa, it’d be an open book. 

one of the best things about being friends with him was that he was always mature enough to look past little arguments or conflicts that shouldn’t have an impact on your friendship.

sometimes he was whiny and pouty and it nauseated you, but he was always one to have your back whenever you needed it. his shoulder was always there for you to cry on, not the mention the hugs he gave. 

so why ‘open book’? 

“i’m only worth trusting because you kept my secret and prevented anybody else from blowing shit out of proportion.”

a gentle chuckle rings by your ear, and seonghwa refuses to fill the sink with more dishes while you were still standing there. there wasn’t a time when he’s hosted a dinner and let his guests do the dishes for him. 

the water runs the dishwasher soap off your skin and you step away for him to take over. 

“it didn’t blow out of proportion only because i didn’t tell anybody else,” he turns and flashes his smile at you, and it reminds you of the first time you fell for it. 

you guessed it. 

park seonghwa was the love of your life at some point of time, and he knew. 

in fact, nobody else knew besides the two of you. 

you had made it so painfully obvious that if anybody was observant enough, they’d be able to pick it up. luckily for you, hongjoong was too busy making sure mingi wasn’t sticking a pen down his throat just to prove a point, and seonghwa was the only one who noticed you staring at him. 

so ‘open book’ in some sense... for the both of you. not so much anybody else outside your exclusive friendship.

the fear in your chest and entire body was so overstimulating in that moment he caught you staring at him, with eyes you assumed he would’ve found creepy, that you could’ve cried in that instant. 

it wasn’t likely that he’d stop being friends with you just because you had feelings for him, but it was likely that he’d start distancing himself from you just so he wouldn’t hurt you. 

~~~~~~~~~  FLASHBACK ~~~~~~~~~~~

“don’t fuckin’ let him swallow the pen!” he yells at hongjoong, who was struggling to use his relatively shorter limbs to hold mingi’s long limbs down. your stressed vision was darting back and forth between the little wrestling match and confusion and fear start to swallow you like waves on a stormy day when seonghwa gets out of his seat and walks towards you. 

“come on,” he shows you a hand. everybody was seated in his living room, pizza boxes empty and coke bottles neatly thrown into a trashbag in the corner with the flashes of light from the television brightening the room every few seconds. “let’s go out and grab some fresh air while these two idiots settle themselves.”

seonghwa literally pulls you to your feet, and he must’ve guessed how much shit you thought you were in, for you to require someone else to tear you away from the ground. 

the sliding doors rustle open, and the cool autumn air outside greets you as if to mock you. the street lamps outside his house prevent you from seeing any stars, but you remember why you were out here in the first place.

your fingers find each other, your nails automatically starting to pick and peel at the skin on the other hand as seonghwa pulls the doors shut, muffling the whining and the screeching mingi was polluting his surroundings with. 

your forearms were rested on the surface of the wooden barriers, and your eyes looked dead straight in attempt to avoid his. the wooden barrier creaks, and you catch a glimpse of his hands gripping the rough surface, his torso leaning over it at an angle so he could meet your eyes without needing to shift you.

the thumping and racing in your chest was so rapid and aggressive, you wish you were dead instead. your lips parted, already prepared to say sorry and get the hell out of his life before he breaks your heart first.

“seonghwa, i--”

“no, it’s okay,” his voice was gentle in the almost-quiet atmosphere. “i was already suspecting it, and you only confirmed it.”

the blood rushes from your feet into your face, and your knuckles whiten from the amount of effort you channeled into holding the wooden barriers to support yourself. the last thing you wanted to do was to pass out infront of him. 

“i know you don’t feel the same, but i don’t want this to ruin our friendship,” mustering enough courage, you turn to him and lock pleading eyes with his. 

“well, neither do i. i wish i could ignore it, and if you were just any other girl, i wouldn’t have bothered having this conversation with you,” he turns and leans his lower back against the wooden boards. “but it’s you and you’re one of the few things i can’t risk losing.” 

silence. 

“this friendship is more important than whether or not you reciprocate. so even if you did, i’d be terrified to even start one with you... in fear that we’d break up and everything prior wouldn’t mean anything,” the words roll of your tongue with such fluidity, it surprised you even more than it did for seonghwa. 

“if that’s the case, then i’m relieved,” he pushes himself off the wooden planks and digs his fingers into the top of your head, ruffling your hair. “i don’t want our friendship to finish so pathetically either, so i take it that you want this conversation to be just between us?”

the nerves in your body tell you to nod, and you carry it out before the thoughts even get processed.

a weak smile curls his lips upwards, and he removes his hand from your head. “okay. you have my word.”

~~~~~~~~ NOW ~~~~~~~~~

so just like that. 

you and seonghwa made a silent deal never to tell anybody, and you made an effort to shove your feelings for him so far down your heart, you think you might’ve shat it out into a random toilet bowl in the last six years or so. 

“anyway,” you recall how you even got to this part of the conversation. “so don’t do anything remotely dumb in the office. if anybody encourages you to do it, i’ll murder them myself.”

his teeth glimmer in the light and the water starts running its way through the bubbles and foam on his hand and the plates in the sink. 

you stay long enough to remind seonghwa not to do anything stupid in his office the next day and to lock the door whenever he wasn’t in, at least five times over. seonghwa forces you to eat some strange concoction of ginseng and peach juice before you had to run out the door and straight home. 

the next day at work passed strangely quicker, and much quieter than you thought. 

seonghwa didn’t spend much time outside you office, and your colleagues handling external liaisons were busy too. it wasn’t difficult to figure out that despite seonghwa saying that companies wouldn’t be approaching him for new partnerships, one big one must’ve come by to keep him in his little box in the corner of the floor. 

but more often than not, being seonghwa’s secretary made you feel obligated to stay until he actually chased you home. and even if he did, you’d try to peel him away from his workspace too, well aware that he’d probably spend the night in his office if you didn’t.

today wasn’t an exception. 

the last external liaison officer left the office and waved goodbye to you, leaving you at your desk in the cubicle nearest to seonghwa’s office. 

you gather the contract summaries and place them into a clear file, throwing your phone into your suitcase and pulling your blazer over your shoulders. after you hand him the contract administration file, you’re going to make sure he went home today, even if it meant shoving him off his seat. 

you stretch out your arms to straighten the sleeves of the blazer, one hand clutching onto your suitcase and the other holding the file. turning off the light at your desk left seonghwa’s office light as the last remaining source of illumination of the area. 

“seonghwa,” you call out, trapping the file between your elbow and your rib as you knocked on the door.

“door’s open,” his voice sounded so tired and strained, you wish you could scold him for being so hardworking, but that was just the way he is.

“i thought i told you to lock the door,” seonghwa’s eyes were plastered to the computer screen, sheets of paper strewn about on the desk. usually you’d be surprised, given how neat and organised seonghwa had to be. but since this must’ve been one hell of a contract, you could understand that he lost some of his bearings. 

“i’m in the office, there’s no reason for me to lock it,” his eyes tear away from the screen and look down at the papers. 

the office smelled like febreeze, which you already were used to. seonghwa sighs a loud sigh and he gets out of his seat, stretching his limbs while you walk around to his desk, placing the file down and picking up some of the sheets he was just looking at. 

you drop your suitcase to your feet and your eyes naturally begin to skim through the brand new contract he spent the entire day obsessing over. seonghwa shifts and you hear his shoes pace up and down the space behind you, probably trying to get the blood circulation going from the hours of sitting down. 

the lamp sitting on his desk illuminates the papers in your hands into a bright white, and the printed black words become so much shinier under it. 

“oh? samsung?” your eyes widen slightly at the name printed on the sheet. “no wonder you’ve been in here the whole day.”

he hums, and you start to feel his torso looming over you from behind. 

“what else do you have to do though?” you flip through the sheets, and he pushes your hair aside, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin under your ear. 

“not funny, seonghwa,” the frown deepens into your forehead when you notice all the sheets had already been filled up. “are you clearing emails? if you’ve filled up the contract sheets then there’s no reason for you to be her--”

the pressure on your lower back combined with the soft breathing on your neck cuts off the oxygen from your nose to your lungs. the air hitting your skin causes goosebumps to erupt all over your skin, and you start to cringe from the ticklish sensation. you flinch and your shoulder shrugs up to your ear as you turn around, taken aback to realise he was standing right behind you, barely giving you any space to turn. 

“uh...” the air was eerily still, and there was a strange look in his eyes that you don’t find familiar. your rear rests against the edge of the desk, and you pass the sheets to your left hand, right hand reaching up to wave it infront of seonghwa’s face. “are you okay?” 

“i’m more than fine,” gently wrapping his fingers around your palm, you raise a brow in confusion. 

you sigh and return the sheets back to the middle of the desk, hand still in his. “you look like you’re going to pass out, is there anything wrong?” 

naturally, your other hand finds his, and you pat the back of his hands like you were petting a dog.

“i need to ask something, and you gotta promise to answer me honestly,” there was a hint of fear and anxiety in his voice, and you didn’t like it. 

nonetheless, he was one of your best friends and he wouldn’t ever hurt you, no matter what he said.

he was probably going to ask something you would find offensive.

“alright,” you release his hands and cross your arms over your chest. “hit me.”

seonghwa shoves both his hands into his pocket and straightens his back, the change in posture making him look taller than what you were used to seeing. 

“do you still feel the same?”

the muscles in your neck snap your head backwards, and both eye brows lift themselves further away from your eyes. a small snort escapes your nose, and you start to nibble on your thumb. 

“‘still feel the same’? about what? about what happened seven years ago in your living room?” 

the smile doesn’t disappear from your lips, and it only gets wider when seonghwa nods. 

“park seonghwa,” you chortle, lifting your hand up to his forehead and pressing so hard into his skull that his head tilts backwards. “are you sure you’re okay? because i’m pretty sure that’s your juiced-out brain talking.”

one foot was already turned to walk out from between him and the desk, but he slams his left hand onto the surface of the expensive wood, and the loud slap of skin against wood startles you. 

your head whips to the left to look at him, and it dawns on you that he wasn’t messing with you. not a single feature on his face twitched, and you could see his soul crawling out of his eyes and threatening to squeeze into yours. 

“an honest answer.”

the most vital organ in your body starts to race, and the sensation yanks you back seven years to when seonghwa figured it out for himself. 

you haven’t felt the same kind of panic and worry since then. 

“i’d like to believe i’ve gotten over you, why?” the neurons in your brain struggled a little to piece that sentence together. 

“so it’s not a definite ‘no’?”

straightening yourself, you pat down your blazer and jab a finger into his shoulder. “did you not hear a word i just said?” 

“y/n,” this time he grabs your wrist, and you could feel the groves and bones of his fingers. “it was a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”

a pause, and you start hearing your heart in your ears. 

“do you still feel the same?”

everything inside you screams ‘no’, but you were well aware that if you had to even convince yourself that that was the case, then it was obvious the answer is ‘yes’. you start screeching at yourself in your own head, knowing that if you kept quiet any longer, seonghwa’s sharp eyes and extreme situational awareness was going to help him crack the code. 

“i--”

“so it’s a ‘yes’.”

fuck me.

“seonghwa, let me explain, okay? it’s not that i didn’t try, i’m just letting those... stupid feelings wear away on its own,” you writhe yourself out his hold and he releases you, but you couldn’t prepare yourself for what he said or did next. 

“there’s nothing to explain, just let your heart tell you what’s good for you.”

there wasn’t a single cell inside you that could tell you why you were so scared, so when seonghwa cups your cheeks with his hands and presses his lips against yours, the realisation pulls your eyes wide open. 

red and white sirens go off violently in your head like declarations of war, and your palms press flat against his chest to push him back.

“what are you-- seonghwa, if you think this is funny, then you need to know that it’s not. at all.”

“no, please, i didn’t mean to make you think i’m messing with you,” his eyes soften, and you were relieved to realise that the seonghwa standing in front of you right now was the one you recognised.

“really? because if we weren’t friends for like ten years, i’d think you’re just another playboy.”

seonghwa offers a weak chuckle, and he rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. you take a few deep breaths to steady your heart, the mind-boggling situation not exactly resting in a comfortable spot in your head. 

“is that how you really see me? a playboy?” he raises a brow with mischief, and the slowly diminishing gap between the two of you alarms your senses all over again. 

“i’m well aware of how the girls in school used to look at you,” his breath starts to hit your upper lip again, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“okay, but that was seven years ago,” you watch with the slightest pinch of horror when his hands run up your arms and rest on your shoulders. “but now we’re both adults and i’m sure you’re mature enough to understand your own feelings, regardless of what i was treated as in school.”

“could you hurry up and get to the point?” you frown when he leans in again, your head slowly inching backwards. “all this beating around the bush is going to piss me off and i’m going to leave you here alone and go home.”

the sound of his laughter landed in your ears like music, and you let it run through you that it was one of the many things that led you to fall for him. 

“okay, well...” he licks his lips ever so subtly, and he tilts his head so you didn’t need to. “if you still have feelings for me then i want you to know that i have feelings for you too.”

the confession rests on your skin like a layer of silk, and your eyes somehow become comfortable closing this time round. 

he tasted exactly the way you’d expect him to: strawberries.

your hands were still awkwardly gripping the edges of the table, so when he finds them and pulls them around his own neck, that was when you lost all sense of reality. 

you couldn’t decide between kissing him because you still had feelings for him or because you’ve spent so much time being comfortable around him, some part of you felt so at home.

the line was so thin that you physically felt it disappear. 

the thought of it was kind of messed up, but it was seonghwa, the one who stayed your friend despite knowing you had feelings for him, the one who stayed and protected you by not telling anybody else. 

not wooyoung, not hongjoong, not mingi. 

the feeling of your entire existence, and the last seven years, melt into that kiss was so heartfelt, and it may have been your feelings for seonghwa talking, but his lips against yours felt like heaven-born puzzle pieces meant for each other. 

seonghwa picks you up and places you on the desk, the kisses soft and gentle, and his fingers on your cheek made you feel like heaven all on its own.

if hongjoong were here, you just know he was going to yell at the two of you for choosing intimacy over your friendship, but for two people who had mutual feelings for each other, there wasn’t much anybody could do about it. 

seonghwa breaks the kiss and he gives you a gorgeous smile, the sight shoving a hundred butterflies into your stomach while the strawberry taste lingers on your lips. 

“tell me if you’re uncomfortable--”

“we’re in the office--”

“camera’s not working.”

a small scoff runs off your tongue, and he dips his nose into your neck. kisses the weight of feathers land on your skin, and your heart starts running through your chest like it was in a competition. his hands push your legs open, the sudden jerk shooting little bolts of shock up your spine.

whines start to drip over your lips upon the kisses on your neck, and seonghwa drags his palms up your thighs, the pressure slightly but never overwhelming.

he wraps his arms around your waist when he returns his attention to your lips, pulling you so close to him that your chest was pressed against his, and your nose starts to pick up on his scent. 

your weight begins to shift backwards as his hands messily push all the things on his table to the side, laying you on your back but never once breaking the kiss. 

“this is so not okay,” you huff embarrassedly, arm finding your forehead when he pulls away. you heard him gulp, and it reminds you that he must be as anxious as you were, if not even more.

“are you really okay with letting me do this?” he presses a kiss into your cheek, fingers caressing your knees that he held on either sides of his hips. “you can say no, and we’ll be fine. we let it go once, we can let it go again.”

the look in his eyes were so dangerously comforting, you felt your mind glitch a little trying to process them. seonghwa was so genuine and sincere about your feelings that it made you nauseous. the pricetag the both of you were putting on tonight was your friendship. 

one wrong move and it could all go down the drain.

“i’m okay as long as i know that you’ll still be here, even if anything goes wrong.”

seonghwa looks at you with slightly sorrowful eyes, before he kisses you again, and the amount of comfort and promise that you absorbed from it was enough to make you tear up. 

“i’ll never leave you, even if we aren’t a couple and if we’re just friends... even if we stop talking fifty years down the road, i’ll still want you to be by my side in the afterlife.”

your nose sours at his little speech, and your heart shatters without warning. pulling him back to your lips, you kiss him like life was going to tear him away from you. 

seonghwa drinks your love and need for affection with ease, fingers trailing down your stomach and under your skirt to play with the rims of your underwear. 

fingers slide under the material and he smiles into the kiss when he realises your body needed him more than you’d like to admit. you would’ve slapped him across the face if he pulled away just to tease you, but he doesn’t.

he swallows a loud groan from you when he slips a finger in, and your grip around his shoulders tighten upon the blissful sensation. 

your fingers start to fumble with the dress shirt he was wearing under his blazer, and bit by bit, the whiteness of his skin start to remind you of milk. 

seonghwa removes his finger and sucks it like a lollipop, his eyes flying up to the dress shirt around your chest and he does the same for you. 

you couldn’t contain the mewls that slipped through your teeth when he undoes enough buttons to expose your cleavage, and the kisses on the curves of your breast felt like you were already one foot into the afterlife. 

the last button on his dress shirt comes undone, and you marvel at his torso. for a split second, you felt so proud you fell for him not because of his face or body, but because of his personality. yet, now with the knowledge that he looked like that under the layers of clothes, it was too difficult a task to hide the lust that overcame you almost instantaneously.

“hold your horses, kitten,” he pulls away from your chest, at the same time removing your underwear from under your skirt. your eyes involuntarily lock with his, and again, you couldn’t recognise them.

“who are you and what have you done to park seonghwa?” you mock him in attempt to calm your own bundle of nerves. a smirk pulls his lips up in the corner, and he yanks you to the edge of the table where his groin was dangerously near your exposed core. 

“i’m yours and he’ll come back once i’m done with you.”

you throw your head back into the table when he kneels down, and his tongue finds your sensitive nub. your fingers run through your own hair when he starts flicking against you, occasionally lapping your dripping neediness up. he doesn’t push into you, which was both frustrating and pleasuring at the same time. 

you start to lose your grip on reality, and just as you were about to protest against him being such a tease, he removes his face from your south and begins undoing his belt. 

your lids were droopy with lust, and watching him undo the button and zipper of his pants made it so much more worth it. 

“i wish i knew this day was coming,” you whisper to him as he leans over you again, one arm holding his torso above you and the other, you assume, pulling his underwear low enough to release himself from the material. 

“so you can tell the girls that you’re having sex with me in the office?”

the line sounded so lewd, blood began rushing both down to your south and up to your cheeks.

“what, you’re shy now?” the brow he raises was so smug, you would’ve bitten down on his bottom lip if you didn’t suddenly gasp when he plunged into you without warning. 

your chin tilts so sharply towards the ceiling, he had to pull it back down for him to shove his tongue into your mouth, and a pinch of pain seeps through your entrance into your thighs. 

the harsh, rougher kisses were pulling inappropriate noises out from your throat, and he starts thrusting into you when he assumes you’ve gotten used to him. his right hand was supporting his weight by the side of your head, and his left palm was gripping onto your thigh with such immense strength, you were sure he was going to leave marks by the time you were done. 

seonghwa finally pulls away, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and his pants becoming more apparent. your arms grip onto the edge of the desk above your head, and tears start to form in your eyes when the pain completely dissolves into pleasure and bliss. 

“my pretty, pretty, secretary,” he huffs into your ear and licks the edge of your skin, the contact sending you over an edge and the friction in your abdomen drilling dirty thoughts into your head. 

“seonghwa--” the thrusts get deliberately harder and rougher, the sudden bucking of his hips enough to jerk the entire table. “oh-- shit--”

the tip of him starts to ram into a magical spot inside you, and your eyes roll into the back of your head when he doesn’t stop.

“be a good girl and come for me.”

every word literally gets hammered into you, and it sends you into an abyss of bright light while your legs shiver in ecstasy, and seonghwa pulls out shortly after, his speed allowing him to grab some napkin from the corner of his table so that he wouldn’t release anywhere on his desk. 

you struggle to catch your breath, and seonghwa reaches over to clean you off the table. 

“oh, no,” you cover your mouth and give a painful chuckle. 

“what is it?” his voice was soft and smooth again, and the gears in your head stop to process that this was the same person who just called you a good girl a few moments ago.

he pulls your hand away and gives you a light kiss on your lips, eyes scanning your face with worry and concern. 

“i told you not to do anything dumb, but i ended up doing it with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: WHOO ok that was kinda long for a one shot. anyway, it’s super mellow compared to what i did for pilot juyeon so i hope you (smut)readers don’t mind heh. i’m still working on HOSTIS chapter 2, so look out for it! it should be up any time in the next few days. 

thank you for reading, and stay safe!!

- love, dana

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 45

Your fun night with BTS is interrupted by some familiar faces.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Genre: fluff, angst, idk

Warnings: Strong language, bit o’ trauma

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You knock at the door, your heart hammering in your chest. You were extra careful getting here – the paparazzi can’t know you’re still going back to the group’s apartment after the ‘breakup.’ 

Hoseok opens the door and lets you in, his usually wide grin somewhat muted. “Y/n-ie! We’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too, Hos-oof!” You half-laugh, half-wheeze when Jungkook comes barreling out of nowhere and crushes you in a bear hug. “Hey, Kookie!”

“Guys!” Jungkook calls elatedly, his long bangs falling in his eyes. “Y/n’s here!”

Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jimin join you in the hallway. Looking around, you notice someone’s missing.

“Where’s…” You blink, snapping your mouth shut. You won’t ask. You don’t care.

“Seokjin hyung is in the kitchen,” Jimin supplies helpfully.

“Ah, okay.” You check the time– 8:30. “Is dinner ready? Can I help?”

There’s a chorus of protests, with the boys insisting you settle in the living room. You’re about to race for Yoongi’s favorite chair, but – argh. Why would you, when he’s not there for you to annoy? 

“I’m sorry. You don’t understand. I can’t.”

You snort. Hasn’t he always asked you to be honest? Hypocrite.

“Y/n-ie?” Hoseok sits next to you on the couch, speaking quietly enough that the others can’t hear him. “Do you want to take your coat off?”

“No, I’m–” cold. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Look, Y/n…” Hoseok reaches out and places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry about Yoongi hyung.”

You muster up a smile. “It’s fine, dude. Like I said, it wasn’t real.”

“Nah, just because you weren’t really dating doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. I don’t know exactly who this new girl of his is – seriously, all of us woke up surprised, including PD-nim. But something’s up with hyung. He never comes out of his studio anymore and doesn’t say anything during rehearsals.”

You stay silent. You don’t want to talk about Yoongi.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you were okay? With… you know.” Hoseok gestures down at your left leg, and you flinch automatically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hyung told me about that night you got hurt by some sasaeng.” Hobi looks deep into your eyes, his brows knit together. “We all care about you, Y/n. You got hurt because of us, and that’s not okay. I know Yoongi hurt you too, but I hope you remember the rest of us are still your friends. And we’re all here if you need us.”

You smile, knowing it won’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Hobi.”

Hoseok nods seriously before scooting back. “By the way, is that what you’re wearing?”

You look down at your jeans and sweater. “Yeah…?”

“Girl, didn’t I tell you we were going out tonight? Taehyung!”

Tae pops out from the kitchen. “Wassup?”

Hoseok waves at you and your outfit. “Fix our girl, please.”

Taehyung’s eyes alight. “Ooh, yes.”

“I- what- but I’m cold!” You protest as Taehyung drags you down the hall.

“We can accommodate that. Come on, Y/n, it’s been ages since I’ve styled anyone!”

But what if I get cold? Seoyeon could hurt me. Lisa could disappear. Next time it could be my head, not my leg. I could die. I can’t be cold. I can’t. I can’t.

“Y/n-ie?” You snap to attention, realizing Taehyung is staring at you with concern etched in his pretty eyes. 

“I�� yeah, sorry. Go ahead.” 

Taehyung leads you into his and Namjoon’s room. You realize with a start you’ve never seen it. The walls are covered in posters, photos, and scribbled notes. Unsurprisingly, Taehyung’s closet is gigantic, and you see him rummage through it with intense focus.

“Okay, so. You’re cold all the time. No dresses, then? No shorts or skirts?”

You shiver, remembering the outfits you wore for the commercial with Wonho and for the lipstick photoshoot. “No, thanks.”

“Hm… We could try…” You hear Taehyung’s voice change. “It would be good publicity… I’d have to ask producer-nim.”

“What?”

“Ah,” Tae withdraws from the closet, his cheeks blooming red. “Well… the public isn’t supposed to know yet. But I’m, er…” He scratches his head sheepishly. “I’m releasing a fashion line. We created a lot of demo outfits to pitch investors. And there’s something I want you to wear.”

You muffle a laugh. “Tae! Really? That’s so cool!” For a moment, your worries are numbed in support of your friend. “Let me see!”

“I don’t know if it’ll fit you, but…” Taehyung pulls out a box printed with KTH in cursive font. “And, for some heat…” he hands you a cropped black fur coat. “Try them on.”

You take a deep breath as you walk into the hall bathroom, nervous to peel off your layers of warmth. You open the box, and- “Woah.”

As you reach to try on the outfit, your phone buzzes.

Wonho: Hey, the commercial aired! Was wondering if u wanted to do smth to celebrate? Hope you’re doing ok. W.

You quickly text back saying you have plans with friends and place your phone facedown on the counter. 

Ten minutes later, you can’t help but stare at yourself in the mirror. You feel… “Y/n?” Taehyung knocks at the door, his voice nervous. “Does it fit?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Come out, let me see! I want-”

You unlock the door and step into the hall. Taehyung stops mid sentence, his jaw falling slack. “Holy… I don’t care what PD-nim says, you’re wearing this to the club tonight! Guys!” He pulls you into the living room. “Check her out!”

The other five members file in, Jin pulling off an apron. When he catches sight of you, he laughs in surprise. “Our Y/n-ie, all grown up!”

And you look grown up – Taehyung has dressed you in a black leather bodysuit to go perfectly with your black boots. It’s tight, but not suffocating, and most importantly, it’s warm. The long sleeves and legs feel protective. The only skin you’re showing is the adventurously deep neckline. The fur coat goes perfectly with the outfit, and you feel yourself standing up straighter as the guys express their admiration.

“Shut up,” you smile as Hoseok pretends to faint. “It’s Tae’s handiwork.”

“You look gorgeous, Y/n darling,” Jin hums. “Now, if the rest of you could start drooling over the soup instead of Y/n, that would be great.”

~~~

“D, remember how you said these fangirls have like, backup accounts? Shit under a different name?”

“Yeah, why?”

Yoongi chews on his fingernail. It’s a habit his managers always scolded him for when he was still a trainee. “What about Lisa? Does she have any?”

D clicks his tongue. It’s the first time Yoongi’s seen him in person for years, but he couldn’t be at the apartment knowing that Y/n would be there with the others. “Shit, man, maybe. I’ll find out.”

“Thanks.”

“Yo, did you see that commercial with your girl?”

Yoongi rubs his temples. Thinking about Y/n hurts. “No. What?”

“Nah, I’m asking cause she looks fire. She’s all over this guy. What are they even selling, right?” D slides over his laptop, Fierce’s new commercial already pulled up. It shows Yoongi’s old friend Wonho, shirtless, muscles bulging. When it cuts to a new scene, Yoongi nearly chokes. It’s Y/n as he’s never seen her; terrifyingly perfect and irresistibly seductive. He can’t tear his eyes away as she strides past Wonho. In the commercial, Wonho lifts the bottle of cologne and raises his eyebrows at Y/n, who stops with interest. 

The next scene leaves something hot burning in Yoongi’s chest: Y/n sits on Wonho’s lap, pressed against his shirtless chest, and the camera zooms in on her mouth as she leans in to brush her red lips against Wonho’s cheek. Almost unconsciously, Yoongi clenches his fist, nails digging into his palm. It’s just a commercial, just a job. He wonders if guys like Wonho are Y/n’s type. Not like it matters anymore, Yoongi thinks. Fucking Lisa. Fucking Seoyeon. “Fuck!”

D jumps. “Gloss! What was that?”

“I forgot – Seoyeon. I’m late.”

“Who cares, man? She’s insane.”

“I care. She wants to go to a club, maybe she’ll tell me where Lisa is if her guard is down. Or give me the names of anyone else she’s working with.”

“Ooh, sneaky. Okay, I’ll be online all night if you wanna text. Let me know if you find out anything.”

“I will,” Yoongi replies, throwing on his suit jacket. “And D, keep an eye on my location. She’s dangerous. I’ll keep a bodyguard with me, but just in case…”

“I gotchu, man. 

Yoongi takes a deep breath. His driver is waiting outside. Y/n is having dinner with the guys. And the image of her draped over Wonho is seared into his memory.

Back into the fray.

~~~

“I’m surprised we’re not driving in a van or something,” You say, peering around the limousine’s interior in awe.

“Some perks of being celebrities,” Namjoon says with a grin. The guys all look amazing, decked out in dressy but effortless outfits. Back in your ARMY days, you would have been swooning. Even now, their good looks are a welcome distraction. 

“It’s been so long since we’ve gone out,” Jimin bounces excitedly. He’s wearing a purple silk shirt that flutters with the movement. “Since Yoongi-hyung started filming and doing his new mixtape, and with Tae-ssi’s clothing line, our schedule has been lenient.”

“Speaking of schedules…” Jungkook turns to you. “I heard yours is gonna be busier lately! You’ve signed with FYP, right?”

You smile, shoving down your guilt. You need to move on. “Yep, they said they’d email me the contract today.” Now that you think about it, it’s past ten. When are they going to send it to you? You’re sure you haven’t received any work-related emails since coming out of your meeting with Mr. Park.

“Ah, almost there!” Hoseok hands out glasses from a minibar. “Soju bombs, everyone!”

You swallow determinedly. You’re moving past Lisa; Yoongi can’t hurt you anymore; Seoyeon… well, she may have won. But that doesn’t mean I’ve lost.

You’re going clubbing with BTS, wearing an outfit designed by Kim Taehyung. Nothing can go wrong tonight. “Cheers!”

And together with the members, you gulp down your drink as the limo slows to a stop in front of Club Xyon. 

Immediately, you’re ushered by stoic men and women in black suits to the front of a line of people who look more famous than you can ever imagine. “Oh my gosh,” you hiss to Hoseok, “I think I recognize her from that movie! And why are we skipping the line?” 

Hoseok laughs. “Y/n, I know to you we’re just friends, but to everyone else, we are global superstars.”

You swallow. Right. In a place like this… “Should I be seen with you guys?”

“C’mon, we pay good money for security to keep paparazzi away from this place. You’re safe.” 

The seven of you file in: music is blaring, people are dancing, and you’re absolutely starstruck. You’re quickly led to a private room stocked with alcohol. Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok stay on their feet while Seokjin and Namjoon rush for the liquor. Taehyung sprawls on the luxurious couch.

“We’re gonna go dancing. Y/n, wanna come?” 

You nod, blinking through the sensory overload. So much is going on, so much to think about.

“Wait, wait.” Namjoon pours you a shot. “To Y/n, well and truly on her way to stardom!”

You laugh, accepting the shot. Thank goodness for your friends, thank goodness you didn’t lose them as well as Yoongi. The liquor burns your throat, and you relish in the feeling.

“Come on, Y/n-ie!” Hoseok tugs on your hand. You toss your coat onto the couch next to Taehyung and follow the dancers out, listening to their excited chatter. The dance floor is big, and multicolored lights flash everywhere. You swear you’ve seen the DJ featured in some magazine. Every person in Club Xyon is almost inhumanely beautiful, and you suddenly feel a nervous shiver making its way down your back. Almost as if they can sense it, the three men flank you. 

“Hey, you belong here as much as anyone, okay?” Hoseok whispers. 

You look down at the bodysuit, and think of how much power you felt when you tried it on. “Yeah. Let’s dance.”

Jungkook whoops, and Jimin bounces on his heels. Hoseok merely winks and leads you into the mass of flawless bodies; so many of them have clearly been trained in dance, moving with such fluidity that you do endless double takes.

“Exactly what you need, I think,” Hoseok murmurs into your ear as you begin to move to the music.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shoot back playfully.

Jimin and Jungkook appear to be having a dance battle. Their fame and the intensity of their movement has created a hubbub among the stars present, and they form a circle around the two. The crowd’s movement jostles you, and you lose track of Hoseok. 

“Hobi! Hob- ah, sorry!” You say quickly, having bumped into someone as you’re pushed to the edge of the dance floor. “My b- wait, Wonho?” 

Wonho grins. “I thought it was you! Funny, I texted earlier because I wanted to invite you here. Who beat me to it?”

“I’m here with BTS,” you reply. Then, seeing Wonho’s confusion, you correct yourself. “Some of the members of BTS. As friends.”

“I see. I’m sorry about Yoongi, I didn’t know he had it in him to act like that.”

You clench your jaw. You don’t know the half of it. “It’s in the past.”

“Well, if you don’t have plans for the next song, want to dance?”

“Sure.” Wonho is cute, and he was kind to you when you worked together. The black mesh shirt he’s wearing certainly helps. 

“Did you see the commercial?” He yells over the heavy bass as you dance. Over his shoulder, you see Taehyung talking to the DJ. 

“No, I’ve been busy,” You shout in reply.

“My agent sent it to me. It turned out well – you looked great!”

Your cheeks flush. Wonho is one of those men who just looks physically perfect, and muscles like his don’t usually come with such a thoughtful demeanor. To receive praise from someone like him gives your ego a boost. “Thanks, I’m sure you did too.”

The song ends, but you still find yourself full of adrenaline. Wonho is an amazing dancer, and you’re finally beginning to relax. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, want anything?” Wonho shouts as another song comes on. With their popularity, you’re surprised you haven’t heard any BTS songs yet.

“I’ll come with you.” You do want something to drink, but you know better than to let someone you barely know bring you something. Wonho nods and leads you to the sleek bar, staffed by skilled mixologists – they add bottle tricks to every order.

“Whiskey, please,” Wonho says when a mixologist turns to him. “And whatever she wants.”

You raise a brow. “You don’t have to pay.”

“C’mon, let me be nice!” 

You laugh. “Fine. A raspberry cosmopolitan.” You keep your eye on the mixologist as they make your drink. “Thanks, Wonho.”

“Hey, I’m just glad I got to run into you. You were definitely one of the more human actresses I’ve worked with.”

“How so?”

Wonho shrugs. “You guys pretend to be other people for a living. It’s nice to meet someone who feels so genuine.”

You nearly choke on the drink the mixologist has just handed to you. “Oh my god,” you say, shaking with laughter. “That’s… thanks, man.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nah, just – first time in a while I’ve been called genuine.” It’s a nice change.

“I can’t believe that. You seem really cool, Y/n–?” You’re taking a long draw of your drink, so all you hear is his voice suddenly changing your name into a question. When you lower your glass, you see him staring in surprise behind you. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you, Lee.” His voice is hard and cool, so uncharacteristic that it takes you a sentence to register. When you do, you swing around, almost unconsciously backing closer to Wonho. “Y-Yoongi?”

“Oh my gosh, look who it is!” Your blood suddenly turns to ice and you grip Wonho’s sleeve like a lifeline. No. No. No.

“Y/n, sweetie!” Kang Seoyeon says, blood-red lipstick matching her hair. Her hand rests lightly on Yoongi’s shoulder. “It’s been so long!”

[expired-monster-craft-smp]

Vibes Dream SMP members give off (in my opinion)

Dream

Barked at people in high school ironically but it became unironic real quick

Can’t cook very well but is good with a knife, especially at a fast pace

One of those kids who either purposely spells the first word wrong in a spelling bee to just be done with it right away or tries the hardest and manages to win (there is no inbetween for this heathen)

Bites ice cream with his teeth

Has snorted pixie stix far too many times and sneezed blue after each time

Eats bananas with the peels

Wears mismatched socks

Has taken a bite out of a pool noodle because he liked the texture and impulsively bit it (ADHD things✨😌)

Walks around looking extremely high but he’s just spacin out and stuck in his head

Dreams (lmao) in Minecraft and video games in general

Will flirt with anything that moves but has no idea how to respond to compliments

Makes fun of himself first before anyone else can

Has eaten an orange peel and it wasn’t that bad in his humble opinion

Wears khaki shorts

Eats the wax part of the baby bell cheese

Doesn’t actually know what genre his music taste is cause he vibes to everything

Georgenotfound

Picks at the skin on his lip when it’s dry so it bleeds and he tries not to give in by licking his lips often enough to the point where it became a habit

Wears velcro shoes because he doesn’t feel like tying them (he knows how, he just doesn’t wanna do it)

Eats peanut butter straight from the jar

Makes that disgusting “ants on a log” thing (celery stick filled with peanut butter topped with a row of raisins)

Can’t drink milk plain, it’s gotta have some sort of flavour

Can draw a perfect straight line but his circles look Terrible

Eats cheez-its like cereal without milk

Loves making little noises so much like he walks around his house doin chores and he’s just goin “memememenownownwnkwkshskshkshskhs”

Hates wearing socks

Coloured his tongue with highlighters because they’re non-toxic

Constantly tapping his feet and hands to a song/beat playing in his head

I can’t imagine this man using a bike of any sort, so Imma say he doesn’t know how

Can’t be licked by dogs because he’s used to being licked by his cat so it makes him uncomfortable

Can actually sing pretty well but gets real nervous in front of people so he fucks it up

Sapnap

No idea how to cook anything other than Mac and cheese please help this man

Meows at cats because he wants to confuse them and laughs Way too hard when he does (his laugh is like sunshine so I’ll allow it)

Would be fantastic at braiding hair Idk why

Gives the BEST fuckin hugs EVER

When singing, he makes noises for the instrumental parts too

Wanted to play the drums at one point

Really likes pit bulls but he’s more of a cat person so he loves them from afar

Only vaguely knows how to shave his face properly without hurting himself

Opportunities for him come up out of pure luck but mans is skilled for them so it works out well almost Always

Used to or currently has a skateboard and isn’t too bad

ALWAYS has bruises appearing everywhere for no reason, he doesn’t even know where 90% of them are from

Calls his friends twinks to jokingly bully them and gets away with it because he himself is not a twink

Gets sudden bursts of energy in the middle of the night and just shimmies around a bit to try and deal with it

Favours spearmint over peppermint

Arsonist

Banned from three (3) Dave & Busters in Texas

Badboyhalo

Washes his hands after doing literally anything

Likes the bird exhibits at the zoo (specifically the penguins)

Very good at cooking, best at soups and stews

If he painted his nails they would definitely be a baby blue

Overthinks very simple things and it makes him look less smart than he actually is

Drinks tap water

Probably prefers whiskey over beer

Knows how to tap dance a bit

Surprisingly good at taking and handling shots

Steady hands

Adds extra chocolate to hot chocolate

Plays sudoku and is really really good at it (only uses pen when he plays)

Everytime he sees a Himalayan salt lamp he NEEDS to lick it despite knowing it’s very salty and he’ll pull a face afterwards

Not great at Rock Paper Scissors

Wears sunglasses inside for no reason at all, he just,,,Does

Still has a stuffed animal from childhood perched on his bed

Probably tried his hand at archery

Tommyinnit

He has no idea how to use a baby voice on children or animals, so he just talks to them normally

Wears socks to bed

His fingers are double jointed

Always starts twitching if he stays still for too long because he’s gotta move around

His shoes and have different laces and it bothers everyone but himself

Doodles on himself in class when he’s bored or not paying attention

Has really good hearing, both with pitch and volume

Can’t eat tomato’s by themselves, it’s either gotta be in sauce form or with something else

FUCKING LOVES STRING CHEESE

Terrible handwriting

Favourite part of a slice of bread is the crust

Wants to paint his nails black to be cool and edgy but his hands are far from steady and he has no clue how to paint nails

Pretty affectionate with close friends (like Tubbo and Wilbur) off stream/camera

He likes pears for some reason

Wilbur Soot

Is constantly having to decide between leaving his hair as is or shaving all of it off

He also thinks about adding some colour but never actually does

Most tea is gross to him

Everytime he puts a breath mint thats circular in his mouth, he pretends it’s a pill and he’s taking drugs because he thinks that’s funny

He does that vacant state as a joke but that really what he looks like when he’s spacing out

Likes to aggressively flirt with his male friends but if his female friends flirt with him, he gets a bit flustered

Has probably accidentally swallowed a guitar pick

Once drank two entire jars of pickle juice

Bonks his head on anything and everything

He has broken a pair of glasses by walking face first into a pole outside

Thinks kinetic sand is fun

Has passionate arguments with others about trivial and random topics like chicken feet

Can open a beer bottle with his teeth

Would accidentally pop and swallow a bracket if he had braces

Tubbo

Hates sharp cheddar cheese

Everytime he learns a new word it’s in every sentence he says for the next week or so

Ate candle wax for a dare once

Doesn’t know how to tie a tie and will probably never learn

Wanted to do ballet at one point but decided not to

He has eaten multiple flowers for absolutely no reason other than wanting to know how they taste

Starts vibrating if he’s too excited

Used to bite his nails

ABSOLUTELY DESPISES MUSTARD

Has eaten paper and says it doesn’t taste that bad

Enjoys telling his friends how much they mean to him (this has resulted in Tommy and Wilbur crying on a few seperate occasions)

Spaces out a lot and doesn’t often pay attention to his surroundings

Gets lost inside of Best Buy’s

Likes s’mores but doesn’t properly understand how to make them

Technoblade

Learned to cook purely out of spite and found it’s actually pretty fun

Constantly getting smacked in the face by trees when walking outside

Really likes apple pie

Everytime he looks at potatoes he thinks of all the hours he spent trying to win the potato war

Starts things as a joke and gets too into it

Doesn’t like the taste of most energy drinks

Has rubbed salt and lemon juice into an open wound to just,,see how it felt (he did it once and Hated it but did it again because he forgot what it felt like)

Sometimes hates how quiet he is because everyone he knows is loud and talks over him

Despite how he is portrayed in the Dream SMP, he is extremely loyal to his friends and would kill for them

Over seasons his food because he can’t taste it otherwise

Really good balance

Doesn’t like to wear bright colours, but still enjoys wearing colours

Good at knitting

Quackity

Actually fairly quiet when off camera

Will accidentally use Spanish grammar while speaking English sometimes

Country music confuses him

Doesn’t really like kids but they really like him

Can’t dance

Hardest drugs he’s ever done is second hand smoke from a cigarette and children’s Tylenol

His favourite jolly ranchers are the red and blue ones

He uses lighters as fidget toys basically

Will have a breakdown, take a bubble bath, and call himself the self care king

Dehydrated

Wants a pet rat but he already has a cat and doesn’t wanna risk anything

Constantly questions why his main source of income is playing Minecraft with two 16 year olds

Karl Jacobs

Probably ate a spider once

Would wear those socks that are like gloves for you feet where it separates all the toes

Eats ravioli straight from the can, cold

Can answer an incredibly complex math equation fairly easily but will stumble over 12x11

Loves kids so much and speaks to them in a soft voice

Tried making ramen in a coffee pot and broke it

Drinks 2 monster energy drinks a day on average

Likes to open walnuts with his teeth but doesn’t actually eat them

The embodiment of that one John Maulany joke where he says you could spill soup in his lap and HE’D apologize to YOU

Loves physical affection so so much!!!!

If he moves his wrists in a certain way, they pop Really Loudly

Fantastic at making cookies

Fundy

Lowkey actually a furry but more on like, a cat boy level than fursuit level

Drives a Honda Civic

Likes ABBA

Adds parsley to almost anything he makes food-wise

Loves garlic bread so much, he’d commit a federal crime for it

Middle child vibes

Decent at skiing

Good at singing but isn’t terribly confident

Seems responsible at first glance but in reality he’s pretty chaotic and childish

Bad at spelling

Always cuts his nails way too short so they always feel weird/hurt

Likes bracelets and rings

Thinks pastel colours slap

JSchlatt

Despite the character he plays, he’s actually really sweet

He’s genuinely that cryptic off camera as he is on camera

Can cook but chooses not to most of the time

Would probably say “what pussy size you wear” to anyone who asks him to buy pads

Not actually as intimidating as he appears to be

Lowkey would fight a child

Shuts down when someone compliments him, often using aggression as a front because holy shit they just called him handsome and kind what the Fuck-

Jokingly says his license is suspended but in all actuality he never got his license in the first place

He has two (2) extra teeth but they don’t need to be removed so he kept them

Has a stick n poke of a stickman on his ankle he got in high school

Likes physics

This is already very long, and I still plan on adding more.

[marveloussupernerd]

The Flu - SakuAtsu

Writing this for my wonderful friend’s bday !! Sorry it’s posted so late whooops also this is short af bc I might do a part 2 or something idk

Summary: Omi gets the flu, which is a rare occurrence, and Atsumu goes to take care of him. Pure fluff

Background: Sakusa is attending college in Tokyo and Atsumu is still playing volleyball in his home town so like still a commute for them

Omi never got sick. Man was one of the most careful people in the world — he always wore his mask when he was out and about around large groups of people, carried hand sanitizer with him and sanitizing wipes to clean off any surface he may have to touch (the handles on the train, for instance), and made an effort to keep his home spotless, even wiping down groceries as they made their way through the door.

So when he did get sick, it kicked his ass.

The last thing he needed was to get sick now, with an exam in a little less than a week. He had outlined what he needed to study, but hadn’t actually gotten to studying yet. And it wasn’t a cold... his high fever, chills, and congestion made it very clear to him it was the flu.

What was he going to do though? He had to skip class. At least today was a Friday, so he could spend the weekend recovering. He grabbed his phone and texted Komori, begging him to bring some medicine because he couldn’t imagine pulling himself out of bed.

He hated asking people for help, or showing any sort of weakness. That’s why when Atsumu texted him, he proceeded through their conversations like usual, trying to conceal the fact that he was sick until he finally passed out from exhaustion, leaving Atsumu’s texts hanging.

Omi never left the conversation abruptly. It made Atsumu uncomfortable, but he ignored it. He was probably studying. Still, he sent him a few messages to get back to him as soon as possible.

When a few hours had passed, he asked Komori if he knew what was up, and that’s when the cat was out of the bag: Sakusa Kiyoomi was sick.

It was the weekend, so it wasn’t like Atsumu had any priorities. He packed his bag, strapped on a mask, and took the train to Tokyo.

He always traveled this trip with a mask for Omi. His boyfriend was always so careful that he’d feel like a jerk for giving him a sickness he picked up on the trip because he hadn’t been careful. His boyfriend had, admittedly, rubbed off on him just a little—trains were gross and unsanitary and he couldn’t help but think about it from time to time during the trip.

His first stop in Tokyo was at a pharmacy near Omi’s house. He purchased some canned soup (there was no way he’d be able to make anything from scratch... he was... himself), medicine, a few boxes of tissues, the hand sanitizer Omi liked, and some ice cream for good measure. The next stop was to Omi’s place.

It was a good thing they had gotten locked out that one time and his boyfriend told him about the key he hid in the flower planter. He didn’t have to wake the sick man up at all to enter the house.

“Omi Omi!?” He called, not actually expecting an answer. It was pretty clear that he had been napping, and was likely still asleep. He just hoped his boyfriend wouldn’t hear him moving around and think someone had broken in (although technically, he had).

He went to the kitchen and wiped down his groceries with Clorox wipes to make sure they were sanitary before putting them away. He pulled open one of the drawers to grab a piece of notebook paper to write to his boyfriend.

Hi Omi <3 I’m in the shower. Love you lots.

Tsumu

That would be fine for now. He slid the paper under Omi’s bedroom door and went in the direction of the bathroom. He had to make sure he washed away anything he could have picked up on the train.

He liked using Omi’s body wash — it smelled like lavender. He had never been huge on the scent in the past, but now it made him feel all warm and fuzzy, associating it with his boyfriend’s scent. He made sure to wash every square inch of his body, leaving nothing up to chance, but still tried to get done as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to keep his boyfriend waiting (more like even though he knew his boyfriend was sick, he couldn’t wait to see him... it had been two months already since their last hangout).

He turned off the shower and shook some water out of his hair, going into his bag for a fresh, clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He pulled on the outfit then made his way to his boyfriend’s bedroom, knocking quietly on the door before entering.

Omi was passed out in bed, his phone next to him, blanket covering half his body. Atsumu strolled over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of it next to his peaceful-looking boyfriend. He very gently placed his hand on the sick boy’s forehead, then put his other hand on his own forehead to compare. Yep. He was definitely warm. He tucked a stray hair off of Omi’s forehead and gently took his arm away.

He was going through a crisis of whether he should wake his boyfriend and inform him of his presence or not. He looked so relaxed, and it was probably hard to fall asleep to begin with. But also, he was very worried Omi would groggily beat the shit out of him when he woke up because he was afraid he was an intruder.

Yeah, sounded like his mind was made up.

He shook the man’s shoulder carefully. “Omi,” he whispered, trying to wake him gently. Luckily it worked, as the latter’s eyes peeled open slowly. “Hi,” Atsumu whispered.

“Tsumu?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

“Ya coulda told me you were sick,” Atsumu playfully complained, leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend’s forehead. “I was all worried.”

“I’m okay,” he frowned, but he knew that playing it cool wasn’t working. His throat felt all ticklish and he started to cough.

“You haven’t gotten sick since what? Middle school? Ya need someone to take care of you.”

“I don’t wanna make you sick...” Sakusa whispered, his eyes shutting.

“You won’t. Even if you do, though, I’m a big boy and get sick all the time too, so I’m used to it.”

“Fine. I don’t want you making me more sick because you were out,” Sakusa grumbled. It was clear he was actually concerned about his boyfriend’s health, but sometimes speaking this way was the only way to get it through to Atsumu. Tsumu was somehow the most arrogant and selfless jerk he had ever met.

“I wore a mask on the train and everything! Sanitized the groceries, took a shower before I came in here. All for you Omi,” Atsumu explained proudly, his back straightening a little bit as he spoke.

“Mm whatever,” Omi mumbled. He still hadn’t opened his eyes from when he shut them earlier. “Can we go to sleep now?”

“You want me to too?”

Sakusa reached out and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, pulling it closer to him. “Cm’ere and lay down. This is the only time in your life you get to be big spoon.”

Atsumu carefully clambered over his boyfriend to the other side of the bed, plopping down beside him eagerly. He was trying to not make too many motions that might shake the bed and make his boyfriend nauseous, but he was extremely cuddle deprived and would be lying if he said he wasn’t on cloud nine. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “Sleep tight Omi. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Omi slept like a rock for a few hours. Atsumu took a nap with him, woke up, went on his phone, checked up on his boyfriend, and those sorts of things. It had probably been about three hours when Sakusa started moving, tossing and turning and trembling.

“Omi? You okay?” He asked, reaching over to feel his boyfriend’s forehead for a temperature. It felt even warmer than before.

Atsumu clambered out of bed, rushing to the kitchen to get an ice pack and a glass of water. When he returned, Omi was now mumbling in his feverish state.

“Atsumu...”

Atsumu rushed to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed. He carefully put the ice pack on his boyfriend’s head, holding it in place despite Omi’s sudden movements.

“I’m here Omi. It’s okay.”

“Don’t...” he whispered.

He pushed the sweat-coated hair off his boyfriend’s forehead so he could get the ice pack on well. “You okay?”

“I’ll be better...”

“Omi? Are you dreaming or talking with your eyes shut? You’re freaking me out.”

“I’m sorry...”

“That’s not helpful for my question honestly.”

“Don’t go...” he sniffled, inhaling heavily, the congestion making it hard to do so.

“Dreaming it is.” Atsumu shook him gently, trying to wake him up. “Get up Omi, it’s just a dream.”

His eyes snapped open, then blinked furiously, a few tears escaping as he did so. “Tsumu?”

“It’s okay. I’m here. It was just a dream,” Atsumu cooed softly, dropping the ice pack and opting cup his face gently and stroke the tears off his cheek.

Sakusa sat up, scooting to his boyfriend to give him a hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “Had a dream you left. Said you didn’t love me,” he muttered. “I was still sick and everything.”

“I’d never do that.” Atsumu kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I know. But I’m sorry Dream Atsumu did that.”

Omi laughed, a pitiful laugh that sent him into a coughing fit, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Oh! Let me check your temperature. You feel warm,” Atsumu remembered, scrambling out of his boyfriend’s grip to run to the bathroom cupboard and grab a thermometer. He quickly returned to his spot, sweeping his legs to plop down on the bed. He held the thermometer out towards his boyfriend. “Say ‘aw’.”

Sakusa sighed, rolling his eyes, then opened his mouth and let out a small ‘aw’. Atsumu put the thermometer in his mouth and waited patiently, silently, as the temperature was being read.

“102. Why is your thermometer in Fahrenheit?”

Sakusa laughed. “I didn’t realize it was when I bought it.”

A Google search later told the two that it was, indeed, a fever, but he would be okay.

“You sure you’re alright? You wanna take some more medicine and go back to sleep?” Atsumu offered, laying back on the bed.

“Not yet. I don’t think I can sleep anymore.”

Atsumu paused, a small smile forming on his face.

“What is it Miya? You’re scaring me...” Sakusa asked, averting his gaze from the blonde’s.

“You know what’ll help your fever? Ice cream. If you’re up for it, I bought a pint.” Atsumu offered, looking up at his boyfriend with a very small pleading look that said ‘please give me ice cream or I’ll cry’.

“Okay,” Omi smiled. “It’s going to help me get better, so how can I say no?”

[ragnarachael]

Hi! Are you still taking requests for Peter? Your Parker!Reader verse is ssooooo Good!! Can I request one where before Morgan is born, Tony sees Reader taking care of Peter who's Idk sick or something? And he finds it really cute and fluffy cause you're cuddling cause Peter is a cuddle bear and then Tony's like lEt's hAvE kIdS. You don't have to tbh 💙💙

CHIQUITITA, TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG

Pairing: Peter Parker x Sister!Reader, Tony Stark x Parker!Reader

Word Count: 1,508

Summary: Peter's sick and barely singing along to Mamma Mia. You take it upon yourself as Peter's sister to try and make him feel better. Tony helps the best he can before he’s off to a meeting. Later in the day, he accidentally brings up a topic you've yet to discuss in your relationship.

Author’s Ramblings: i went a little wild with this so... whoops. i really should put this series in order, but i’m far too lazy to even think about that at the moment. after this i’m posting the last 3 wip guessing game asks and then going back to work on THE fic! (also i’m trying out this new formatting for when i write whole oneshots instead of drabbles, don’t mind me)

Peter was sick. Peter Benjamin Parker, who proclaimed that he never got sick—which was frankly a lie, due to your family’s history of shitty immune systems—was sick and whining as he lounged around on the couch of the Avenger’s Compound.

He was leaning on Thor’s shoulder while he kept two separate tissues up both sides of his nose, Mamma Mia blaring on the flat screen in front of them. Thor seemed to be enjoying himself, his head moving along with the rhythm of the song that had been playing. You observed them both as you sipped on your coffee. Peter was quietly mumbling the lyrics to the song that was currently playing, sounding like he was in some weird state of delirium.

That’s what worried you. When you watch Mamma Mia with your brother, he’s electric. Usually, he’s up on his feet, doing most of the choreography, singing the male vocals almost perfectly; he’s never not sitting and barely bopping to the music.

“Hey Pete,” you said gently from where you stood near the kitchen island, moving a bit to let Tony get by you to grab a mug, “you okay?”

All Peter did in response was hold a thumbs up over the edge of the couch.

You sighed, placing your coffee mug down on the countertop before slipping past Tony and dodging Steve as you headed to where Peter and Thor were sitting.

There was no hesitation in your laughter when you saw how Peter solved his nose dripping problem. It’s exactly what you do and you completely get what May meant when she said the two of you were almost the same person.

“Peter,” you started, squatting down to meet his eyes, “did you take some medicine?”

“Yeah,” he huffed out, feeling around to his left to grab his bottle of water he had with him. “I took some.”

“How long ago?” You asked, reaching a hand up to press it against his forehead. You clicked your tongue. He had a fever for sure and with his luck, it’s probably rising.

Peter shrugged as he kept watching the TV screen, resting his chin on the top of his bottle.

You glanced over at Thor with a questioning look. Thor returned it just as the music to the scene that was playing stopped.

“What?”

“Were you awake with him when he took the medicine, Thor?”

“No. Loki and I returned from Asgard just over an hour ago.”

You nodded and gave him a smile, turning your gaze back to your baby brother. Emphasis on the baby.

“How’s about I take you to your room and I’ll make some soup for you? That sound good, bubba?”

Peter didn’t even have to say yes or no because you were gently pulling him up from the couch with little struggle, slinging his arm around your shoulders so you could guide him back to his room. 

He was groaning quietly the whole way, mumbling stuff about Mamma Mia and Thor being comfortable. Just before you could get into the hallway with Peter, you nudged your head into the hall in Tony’s direction to get his help.

You continued trying to hold all of Peter’s weight yourself before Tony was coming to your rescue, throwing the other arm over his shoulders.

“Don’t worry champ, we’ve got ya,” he said reassuringly, a hand splayed in between his shoulders.

Eventually, you got Peter in bed and instructed Tony to get all of his things he brought out to the couch while you got on making the soup you mentioned earlier.

Part of you wished May was back in town so you didn’t have to care for Peter like this, since you couldn’t always handle how whiny your brother gets when he’s sick, but another part of you didn’t care that much. You weirdly enjoyed doing this as of late, and you couldn’t place it.

Once the soup was done, you got a bowl and spoon together for Peter and carefully navigated your way back to Peter’s room, telling whoever you passed that there’s soup, if they wanted any.

Tony was lounging in Peter’s bed, staring at one of the walls that seemed to have Star Wars projecting on it.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw how soft Tony looked with Peter in this moment. Even though Tony was still dressed up for a meeting he had within the next hour, he looked so cozy.

“Hey,” you said, kicking the door open wider with your foot, “I got the soup. You’re free to go.”

Tony’s eyes were still on the projection of the movie as he replied with a grunt.

You couldn’t hide your chuckle as you placed the bowl of soup down and gently tug his rolled up sleeve. “Mr. Stark, you’re needed elsewhere.”

Tony immediately looked at you thanks to that title and gave you a pout.

“It’s the best part!”

“It’s literally the opening credits. You’ve got a meeting,” you replied sternly, trying not to let the way Peter looked when you started to gently peel him from Tony’s chest pull on your heart strings.

“Fine, fine! I won’t have Pepper call it off,” Tony relented as you kept trying to get him to leave as he dramatically resisted to get Peter to laugh. You could hear your brother laughing the same time as you when you finally got Tony to the doorway.

“Behave, Tony.”

“What’s in it for me if I do?” He asked, raising a brow as he lowered his vocal register. You knew what he was doing, and you weren’t going to let it work.

“Go, Tony.” You pressed your lips to his and pulled away before he could grab you and pull you closer. “Or I’m going to break some of your tech again.”

“Can you take this away from me?” Peter asked loudly, with a bit of energy. You turned to look at him, raising a brow.

“You’re supposed to be sick, y’know.”

“I am,” Peter heaved, starting to reach for the soup you left on the nightstand, “doesn’t mean I can’t talk. Now can I please have someone watch Star Wars with me?”

You sighed and rubbed a hand over your face, giving Tony one last look for him to get lost before turning back around and quickly passing Peter the bowl of soup he’s still reaching for. 

Tony stayed in the doorway for a moment, watching you walk away before letting a dramatic sigh out, starting to slink down the hall back to the main living space.

Peter actually ate all of the soup, to your surprise. Although he did sip at the broth during the first Star Wars movie before actually eating the noodles and extra things you put in that you knew he’d eat. But he still ate it, and that’s all that mattered.

When Tony came back to check on the two of you after his meeting, he caught the both of you dozed off as the third movie started to play. Peter’s head was resting on your shoulder, his face smushed into your collarbone while your head was resting against the pillows. Your arms were wrapped around him protectively while it looked like Peter was trying to make his body morph into yours.

He had his legs tangled with yours, almost like you were playing twister. It was then Tony remembered that Peter liked sleeping in weird positions like that.

The kid was weird, but he loved him anyway.

Tony couldn’t place why his mind was going haywire over the fact of you cuddling with your brother, it might just be because it was so cute. Both of you were adorable in your own rights, and it was tugging some thought from the crevices of his mind.

“Tony?” You questioned with your sleep filled tone, sitting up slightly, only stopping when Peter shifted his face on your shoulder.

Tony didn’t hold back the smile he had for you and carefully walked farther into the room, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, dear.”

“How’d the meeting go?”

“It went,” Tony replied, not at all thinking before speaking, “you’re great with kids.”

You tilted your head in confusion, pulling one of your arms from Peter to rub at your eye. “Kids?”

Tony shook his head instantly, not wanting to get on that topic right now. With Peter in the room? It’s a dangerous shot to take.

“Forget I said anything, you’re dreaming, this is a dream,” Tony recovered quickly, which caused you to let out a quiet laugh.

“We’re talking about that later, Stark.”

“What? Talking about kids? What’re kids?”

“Babe—”

Tony cut you off again, continuing to pretend you weren’t asking questions about what he said, gently moving to sit on the emptiest edge of the bed possible as you tried to smother your laughter.

Finally, you decided to play along, just so he could join you and Peter in bed for a nap. However, you’re definitely pressing on the whole “kids” topic later.

[parkerspicedlatte]

Sicko (Part 1/2) Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Dom is a snuggly puppy. 

Content: Fluff

Pairings: Dom+Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: IDK naked people???

"Love, why are you still sleeping?"

You felt something wet drag down from your cheek to your lips. There was no need for you to open your eyes to know that the wet somethings were actually Dom's own lips. Infact, you were  sure that it would be nearly impossible to open your eyes due to the blinding lights you knew would be clear to greet you and amplify your headache. 

The bed dipped a bit on either side of your body seconds before it started rocking back and forth lightly.

"Baaabe," you groaned. The rocking stopped. The subtle pounding in the front of your head continued, it matched the pattern of a horseshoe hitting concrete whilst in a gallop.

Something lightly brushed against your nose, like a feather being run over your face. You brought a hand up to brush it away but nothing was there. The hand dropped beside your head on the pillow. Then you felt it again, a light flutter across your nose. Once, twice, thrice. Your eyes opened hesitantly to guard against the daylight you'd anticipated but relaxed when something moved to block it. The something giggled above you. Your eyes revealed a mop of dark stringy hair falling over a pair of bright green eyes.

Dom shook his head ever so slightly causing his hair to brush against your nose again. You smelled minty breath when he leaned in to kiss your nose while giggling before moving onto your cheeks. Both of his knees were on either side of your hips leaving his fists to support his weight from either side of your pillow.

"Mornin' love," he mumbled into the side of your neck he'd buried his head into.

"Morning, how long have you been up?" Dom was still dressed for bed but you knew that he hadn't just rolled over to wake you up judging from how energetic he was. That and the fact that nobody wakes up with minty breath.

"'bout an hour, maybe half-" Dom smiled at you. "You were sleeping pretty hard and I didn't want to wake you. Are you feeling better at all?"

You'd gone to bed earlier with the beginning of your current headache and an impregnable urge to sleep for days. Unfortunately your symptoms had only magnified themselves and brought their friends. Now you had a sore throat, a stuffed head, and some major chills on top of the headache and fatigue.

You shook your head to answer Dom’s question with a saddened  ‘no.’

“I think I’ve got a cold.” You pointed at your throat and pouted pathetically.

Dom looked at your half wakened pouty face and found himself pouting as well. He didn’t like to see you not smiling. He watched as you rolled over onto your side and nuzzled into his right forearm. He shifted his own body to lie on the bed properly in front of you so that he could pull your body into his chest. Once he was satisfied with the way you were tangled in his own body, he positioned the blankets so they made a faux cocoon around you. Dom brought his left hand up to run it through your loose hair, brushing stray pieces from your face.

You watched him for a few seconds as he did this but were not able to keep your eyes open. On a good day you would have been made sleepy by someone playing with your hair but in your condition, you didn’t stand a chance.

Dom pressed sweet kisses to your head as he watched you fall asleep again. He made a mental list in his head of the things he’d need for you.

Soup 

Medicine 

Immune Boosters

Once he was sure you were asleep (once more), he cautiously slipped out of bed but not before he rearranged the covers and his pillow to seem like there was still a body beside you. He didn’t want you waking up looking for him. He knew if you were half asleep you’d accept the pillow as his body. 

He put a note on top of your phone on the side table.

Went too the store, be back in 20

You smiled at the bright pink sticky note on your phone, The misspelled word on top of the fact that the note was pink just made it totally him.

You pushed back the covers looking like a drunk trying to swim and stumbled out of bed. You didn’t even notice or care about the pink socks littering the floor or the jumpers thrown over the chair in the corner of the room. The only thing on your mind was your mission to find something to dull your headache and a bucket of water to wash it down with.

When Dom came home he placed the bags on the kitchen counter and took off towards your shared bedroom to look for you. He heard the shower running two doors down from the masterbedrom. The bathroom door was not only unlocked, but left halfway open. The trail of clothes started a few feet from your bed to the bathroom, an article of clothing every yard or so. Dominic frowned, that was definitely not your style. In fact you would have not been pleased if he’d done that. He knocked on the door as he stepped into the room.

“Love?”

“In here,” you answered from behind the shower curtain.

Dom bent to pick up the discarded clothes on the floor and put them on the dirty laundry hamper.

“D’you need anything?”

“No.”

He peeled back the shower curtain and chuckled to himself at the sight. You were sitting on the floor of the tub under the hot water, letting it flow over you. Your head rested on your knees that were pulled up to your chest and held by your arms. 

“What’re you doing love?”

“Letting the steam help with my headache.”

Dom thought for a second. “If you had shut the bathroom door you’d probably have more steam in here you know.”

“Probably,” you sighed. Dom dropped the curtain back into place. You could hear fumbling then metal clicking against the counter top. The shower curtain opened again but this time from behind you. You felt the water deflect momentarily as Dom stepped in and sat down, letting his legs move in on either side of your body. He moved his body close to you, leaning in so that his chest was pressed against your back. His wet arms snaked around your torso, his fingers spread and carefully traced every inch of skin that they could reach as he did so.

Ever so slightly he rocked your bodies side to side, both of you wordlessly enjoying the feeling of each other’s skin. Dom hummed softly into the space between your shoulder blades then he quietly transitioned his humming to singing lowly.

 I’m okay in the day, I’m staying busy

Tied up enough so I don’t have to wonder, where is he?

Got so sick of crying, so just lately

When I catch myself I do a 180

 By then he was completely drenched. The water that ran from his head, trickled down your back and over your shoulders to meet back with his clasped arms. His humming, the warm water, and the slow constant movement of your bodies began to make you drift off again. Dom noticed this and chuckled against your skin.

“Love, I’ve got to get up,” he murmured, lips ghosting your neck. “Come on baby.”

Your boyfriend carefully slid away from your body with a kiss on your cheek.

Slowly but surely you straightened your back and stretched out your arms and shoulders, a satisfying ‘pop’ followed by multiple cracking sound echoed through the room.

The warm, therapeutic shower water trickled to a stop suddenly.

“Hey,” you whined.

Dom smirked at your behaviour and ran his fingers through your soaked hair to squeez the excess water out. “Come on love,” he cupped your cheek, “-’bout time to get out.” He held out a hand for you and helped you to stand so you wouldn’t slip when you accepted it.

He was already dried off and was wearing a pair of  wildly patterned sweatpants. A towel was held open between between the length of his outstretched arms. You felt like a child at bath time but didn’t argue with Dom. If he wanted to baby you, you’d let him for the time being. Your boyfriend tenderly wrapped your naked body in the clean smelling towel then proceed to carry you in his arms to the bedroom.

“I can walk you know.”

“Shhh love,” Dom kissed the tip of your nose then set you down on the bed.

A/N: 10 PTS to whoever can tell me what song he was singing without looking it up. Who wants a P2. Might just leave this as is but I kind of want to do a second part. I’ve got a few fics on the go but they’re for other fandoms so let me know so that I have an idea what to focus on now. 

A big thank you to @roseycal​ for saving my ass and helping me tear this apart and put it back together properly! You are my Queen! <3

Also tagging @interstellarrambles​ cause they asked me to lol

[maggotmouth]

     hullo it nora, back for more mess. this unhinged little nightmare is cecily who i first birthed around 3 years ago and i am so excited to finally be playing her again. feral wolf girl who loves silk babydoll dresses and bubblegum but would also cut your femoral artery if she was bored. is the eptome of that “somethin dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls” trope. amma crellin meets harley quinn meets addy hanlon.  ( pinterest )

APP.

( nora. 22. gmt. she / her. ) it might be HER FRESHMAN year but I still think CECILY DE ROSA looks exactly like FREYA MAVOR and sometimes I think the FEMALE is actually them. Of course I’m wrong, as they’re 19 and studying THEATRE while living in FIDELIS here at Lockwood. The GEMINI can be rather PUCKISH and CANDID, but also kind of SELF-CENTRED and HYSTERICAL. Their most played song on Spotify was CELL BLOCK TANGO by CATHERINE ZETA JONES AND THE COMPANY OF CHICAGO, so I think that says a lot.

BACKGROUND.

tw death suicide murder proceed w caution

born as ‘lamia romana’ in italy to catholic parents. her father was a struggling alcoholic and incredibly depressed. when cece was 4, and her brother was 3 her father fed the gas pipe through the back of their car whilst they prepared to go on their family holiday because he knew suicide would leave his wife and children penniless so he decided the most selfless thing would be to take them with him

cecily (lamia) and her brother luc by some miracle survived the accident, but were left orphaned. they were sent to a convent where they were raised by nuns. cece was incredibly religious. it became her whole life. she was devoted to god completely, almost crazed, because in the absence of parents she transferred the need for a guider and protector onto this spiritual other evoked by her religious beliefs.

she always had a strained relationship w her brother because she believed he wasn’t as devoted to catholicism as she was. when she was 13 he claimed that god wasn’t real and that she was a freak, and in a violent rage cecily thrust a crucifix through his throat. it was completely out of character for her. she screamed until her throat went dry. eventually,  when the nuns managed to tear her away from her brother’s body, she was taken to a psychiatric hospital in manhattan where she stayed for two years. driven to madness, she convinced herself that she had been possessed by the devil the moment she killed her brother, and soon she began to accept her fate, as not holy, like she had anticipated, but in fact it’s ungoldy antithesis

when she was released, she was adopted by an american distant aunt and uncle and sent to a manhattan boarding school under the new name ‘cecily de rosa’. see also: st. trinnians. lifted of any religious obligation, cecily grew wild. she delighted in acting up, cheeking her superiors, causing havoc and chaos, terrifying the other girls. sex became her weapon – she would seduce the boys from the local comprehensive and drop them like flies. to her, it was merely a game. 

uses sex as a weapon, a way in which to manipulate men, having filmed sexual liasons with both a former acting coach and a TA to use for the purposes of blackmail. 

 her expulsion from school was threatened after she streaked the school naked and doused in pig blood, but her academic prowess was an asset to the school, so they learnt to put up with her antics. she applied for yale but didn’t get in.

 she atended juliard for a year but was thrown out for indecency

theatre-wise, one of Cecily’s most commendable traits is her sheer tenacity and lack of inhibition – she is willing to do whatever it takes to climb to the top, and kick as many other people down as necessary on her way there. tthis unhinged hunger for success was evidenced when, in her breakout role, cecily played Tamora in Titus Andronicus. feeling the presentation of one of shakespeare’s most terrifying women was ‘pussy-footed’ and dulled down for a male audience, cecily took matters into her own hands, and during the famous banquet scene where Tamora is fed her own sons, she ate a pig’s heart live on stage – receiving both awestruck and horrified press reviews for her performance -- and getting expelled from her drama school. (thats why she is now at lockwood)

she is in a sorority house n the gymnastic squad. she speaks fluently in four languages. the kind f sociopathic lana del rey writes songs about. 

was raised Roman Catholic, and although she is now estranged from religion, it’s still an integral part of her identity. She holds it partially responsible for the need to repress emotion she still experiences. The only time she allows herself to truly feel, without perceiving it as a weakness, is when she’s performing

cecily was raised with dual-nationality and is multi-lingual. Her parents frequently spoke both Italian and English around the house, leading cecily to do the same. She is also somewhat familiar with Latin, having studied it alongside Literature, Contemporary Dance and Theatre at a manhattan-based performing arts boarding school.

ethereal wood elf. plays flute and does ballet. her favourite tv shows are making a murderer and dance moms. she is big on Tchaikovsky and Bukowski. poetry to cecily is soup of the soul, despite the fact that the only things she really feels are apathy and mild disgust. her poems mostly centre around the beauty of violence -- writing about it often prevents her from committing violent acts -- and also her cat.

loves gettin fucked up. always high on sometin -- cocaine, ecstasy, love, her own ego.

had her first taste of alcohol at 15 and has stayed fond of spirits ever since. likes literature of the macabre, isn’t fond of social media, and loves knee high socks and glitter. she bites her nails, will only take cold showers, and doesn’t drink coffee. loves cats. is vegan.

she sleeps like a cat, regularly but short amounts of time, and is usually found awake at night stalking the streets in the pursuit of self-destruction. she views herself as pansexual because she is attracted to people rather than genders but she thinks men are trash. probably biromantic or homoromantic. she loves the chase. she likes meaningless sexual liasons, but if hearts are broken in the process, even better. hearts are breakable and she believes those who have them are foolish.

aesthetic:  peroxide hair in a bathtub, bleach, glittery socks under spaghetti strap heels, silk slip dresses, glitter smeared beneath eyes, split knuckles, nose bleeds, a bubble of blue gum snapped against cherry flavoured lips, orange peel, knee-high socks, tartan two-piece skirt and blazers, kate moss posters ripped out of vogue, littering a bedroom wall, yearbook photos tacked together with red thread, clip in highlights, stick on earrings, french music humming from a crackly gramophone, a hip flask covered with hello kitty stickers

PLOTS.

i currently have NO PLOTS for her so everything is open. if you want a cousin / ex-lover / friend with benefits  / bully, or are dying for a specific connection, let me know or like this post and i will msg you!! LOVE U ALL xoxo

more plots all of these are plagiarised:

“you were drunk and you climbed in through my apartment window and I’m not really sure how you managed it because not only is the fire escape broken but you are really fucking plastered wtf please, teach me your skills?”

“i set your kitchen on fire ‘by accident’ because i hate your guts, and you know it was me but you have no evidence”

“we’re in a breakfast club style all day detention”

“you came over for ‘help studying’ and my roommate came home five minutes after we were done hooking up and you got roped into a conversation about her dogs and everyone is uncomfortable”

“we’re friends but it’s a really toxic relationship made up of trying to one up each other all the time”

“I caught you writing gay porn in the library and now you’re terrified i’ll tell everyone, but really i’m just waiting for the next instalment”

“i asked you to help me sneak my cat into my dorm but we got caught by the janitor and now we’re both in the principal’s office”

“you saw me come back to my apartment covered in blood one night, but you’ve never asked about it because you’re scared that yours might be the next blood i’m covered in”

“you broke into my apartment while I was out for whatever reason and when I came home I knocked you out and now you’re unconscious on my floor and idk what to do?”

“i just decked you in the face because i’m drunk and you were pissing me off but ow my hand really fucking hurts i think i might have broke it and oh look your nose is bleeding and now we’re both sitting awkwardly in the hospital while i glare at you from across the room. but wait are you giving me sex eyes?? stop that i’m supposed to mad at you??”

“you keep dragging suspicious sacks up to and down from your apartment and I don’t know what your deal is or why I still wanna bone you”

“we’re in the same rocky horror troupe”

“i stayed over at your house and woke you up in the middle of the night to have sex while your roommate is asleep and every time, your room mate yells “STOP FUCKING, JESUS CHRIST” right when we’re about to finish”

“we used to have a thing but  now we hate each others guts and can’t be in the same room without yelling at one another”

“i had a drunk one night stand with your brother last year and i threw up in your room, and now we’re in a class together and it’s really awkward.”

[vetivrr]

Willdip Week: Possession

AN:// Idk if this is fluff or what just take it and don’t question me :T

Summary: Dipsticks stays up too late I guess??

“Dipper.”

The voice came from right beside his desk’s chair, and unlike the past few times Dipper had been called he couldn't find any way to ignore it.

He glanced up, a single brow arching as Will set a steaming mug down, carefully pushing aside one or two papers to make room for it.

“Take a break. Y-you need to stretch a little.”

“I’m not thirsty,” The brunette replied flatly, eyes already back on his work and missing the disappointed look that flitted across his lover’s face.

“It’s n...not tea. It’s soup.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Please. Y-you need to go to sleep. You can’t d-do this.”

Will’s voice had reverted back to the soft hesitance of unsurety, but Dipper couldn’t care, didn’t want to make himself care.

Mabel had gone missing.

She’d been missing for almost two days.

Mabel was gone, he should have been more careful, shouldn’t have let her go into the forest alone, should have known, it was his fault she’d--

“I-it’s not your fault-”

Dipper silenced his partner as he threw down his pen and stood up, facing Will with a sharp flash of cyan, “Stay out of my mind, demon.”

Of course he regretted his outburst immediately, jaw clenching at the sight of Will shrinking back a little, at the sight of goodwill eye beginning to water.

“Don’t cry, Will.”

Dipper took one step forwards and Will took one step back, and turned his head away as his lover reached out to hold his shoulders, “I’m sorry. Don’t cry,” Dipper apologized gruffly and Will reached up to grab one of his hands.

“Please go t--to sleep. You’re all out of sorts…”

Of course I am, Dipper wanted to snap out, and he was.

For the past three days he’d been caught up into a flurry, been sending out search parties, joining said search parties, gotten everyone he could think of to be involved somehow, he’d been asking questions and followed every trail of clues he could string together, ever since she’d gone vanished on a simple forest walk.

Dipper would do just short of anything to find his sister and bring her home, he practically had yet only to search the multiverse, he’d go to any extent.

“I don’t care. You know I have to- I have to find her. I need-”

“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“I need to find her.”

It wasn’t fair. The mantra repeated itself over and over in his head, it wasn’t fair, he was supposed to be able to live at least one year of his life without something horrible happening, fate wasn’t fair, just for once Dipper would have loved to be able to break down and throw a tantrum, just for once in his life.

But he couldn’t. He had to stay strong, for Mabel’s sake. He had to-

“No, you don’t have to. What you have to do is get some rest so you’ll be able to think again.”

The determination in Will’s tone threw him off guard, but then he was already off guard, and barely had time to protest- much less resist.

Dipper let out a small, surprised grunt as he felt himself grow weightless, barely holding back a shiver at the cold feeling of his soul peeling away from his body. He could only stare in silent confusion for a few seconds while Will- or, Wilson, as Mabel herself had jokingly dubbed them (He hadn’t been too pleased when it had stuck, but that was hardly on his mind) caught himself on the desk’s edge and flexed his fingers slowly, blue eyes glowing a little.

“William!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Put me back--”

“I’m s-sorry,” The demon’s voice sounded odd, splintered when it came from Dipper’s mouth, and he looked sorry, the face melted into miserable desperation and a few fat teardrops as Wilson looked up at the human now trapped in the Mindscape.

He began to gather up the notebooks and papers, carefully using Dipper’s amulet to sort the stacks neatly, and Dipper himself could only watch.

It was a wonder he didn’t lash out then, but the brunette, even through the haze of quiet panic could see how utterly exhausted his own body looked. Mussed hair and dark bruises under his eyes, he’d even shoved a button in his shirt through the wrong hole...Dipper only vaguely remembered getting dressed, come to think of it.

At least the body moved with at least a bit more grace than the first time he’d been forcefully inhabited.

“What are you doing?” Was all Dipper could manage without raising his voice, floating back down to the floor to try and grab Wilson’s wrist though he knew full well it wouldn’t work.

The demon flinched back anyway, holding the pile of research and investigations in his arms.

“I’m taking all this unt-til you go to sleep. I’ve seen humans g-get hurt like this, I’m not letting that happen t-to you.”

“I need to-”

“I’ll keep looking for her, while you sleep.”

Dipper didn’t want anyone else to look for him, he wanted to look himself, he needed to find her.

“You can’t fall asleep in my body. You’ll be ejected.”

His lip curled in helpless frustration as the pile of research disappeared altogether, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get it back until Will gave it to him.

“I know, that’s why I need you t-to work with me. You’re going to go to bed, and th-then...when you wake up, you’ll eat something. And take a shower.”

“Get out!” Dipper grit his teeth and made as if he was standing on the carpet, eye to eye with the possessed vessel, and glaring as his form sniffled quietly.

“Please cooperate,” Was the last thing Wilson said before the demon let himself be repulsed, giving Dipper barely enough time to reclaim his body.

All the same he crumbled to his knees, wincing a little as the thump echoed even through the plush floor. Dipper pushed himself quickly to his feet, gripping the back of his chair as he faced Will, whose own vessel had flickered back into existence in the very same moment.

“Don’t be mad at me. I’m trying to help you.” The dream demon practically whimpered it out, breath stuttering in his throat.

Dipper stood staring at the floor, for several long seconds until he realized Will was starting to cry harder.

He was crumbling, and so, finally, was the Gleeful’s resolve. Dipper reached out slowly. “Cipher….c’mon, Will...”

“Trust me, please. It will be okay,” Will murmured earnestly. Two steps closed the gap between them, two hands found their way to the male twin’s chest, pushing gently-

“I’ll take care of it. Just-”

He broke off to sniffle a little, “Just trust me.”

And Dipper relented, allowing himself to be lead over to his bed, and they sat down together. He felt his eyes beginning to burn, and shook his head stubbornly, “How am I supposed to fall asleep. Something could happen to her while I’m asleep.”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll find her. She’ll be okay.”

Dipper pressed a hand to his mouth, feeling Will’s cool fingers curl round his neck, his cool words settle as a soothing balm as he laid back.

“I won’t be able to sleep.”

“I can make you, you know that.”

“You could have just sent me to sleep this whole time, then.”

“But you didn’t want me to.”

It somehow only made his chest hurt more, filled with worry for a sister and love to a partner who wouldn’t even betray him for his own good.

But he nodded once, silent permission. He for once let go, and let Will take care of him, a soft sigh pushing past chapped lips before they were pressed against the demon’s.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

He slid off his shoes and helped pull the covers over him.

“I und-derstand. I love you…”

“Love you,” and his world slowly faded to black, filled with a mercifully dreamless sleep.

Will stood, head tilted to the side as he watched Dipper fade into unconsciousness. It never ceased to amaze him how full of love a human could be if only treated right…

He could have stayed there for hours, but he turned away soon after, wiping away his tears on the back of his sleeves.

He had a promise to fulfill.