#it helps my pain medication never lets me sleep at night

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

[empresskylo]

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER

SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.

The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.

The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water. 

With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go. 

The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep. 

“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained. 

“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves. 

“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”

Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”

“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”

“It’s too–”

You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”

“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly. 

“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”

Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that. 

“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price. 

“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon. 

“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”

He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting. 

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building. 

You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this. 

“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair. 

You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in. 

The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing. 

Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream. 

He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall. 

Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing. 

Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought. 

He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind. 

He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound. 

He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.

You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone. 

Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you. 

You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic. 

Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering. 

But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack. 

A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell. 

His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him. 

Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat. 

Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan. 

You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body. 

You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.

It was Simon.

Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you. 

“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare. 

A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them . 

You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.

He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came. 

Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise. 

You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in. 

Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before. 

You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction. 

The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself. 

Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.

Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair—felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory. 

He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support. 

You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time. 

Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin. 

His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time. 

You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful. 

When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life. 

You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well. 

But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you. 

You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements. 

You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all. 

He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast. 

You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.

Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever? 

You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him. 

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Based on Oliver mentioning Buck and Jee baking together in an upcoming ep.

(I wrote this on my phone so it's not the greatest)

now also on AO3

---

"Is it someone's birthday?" Maddie asked, running through all of their friends and relatives in her mind, trying to figure out if she forgot a birthday.

"No." Buck shook his head and kept pulling ingredients out of the fridge and his kitchen cabinets.

"Ok... What's the occasion then?" she asked when he didn't elaborate.

"It's for Tommy. "

"Oh, is it his birthday?"

"No, not for a few weeks."

"Right. So this is a practice run?"

"What? No. I found the recipe online, but it's easy enough."

"Ok..."

"He likes cake."

"Ok."

Buck sighed and rolled his eyes at his sister before glancing up in the direction of the loft's bedroom.

"He's had a rough couple of days. He had to make an emergency landing because of bad weather yesterday and the ambulance couldn't get to them fast enough and they lost the patient."

"That was him? Josh took that call and he was exhausted from stress by the end of shift."

Buck nodded.

"Tommy too. And he was hurting all over last night. He never takes any pain medication but he took two ibuprofen and a hot shower and crashed into bed."

"Are you sure you're alright to take Jee for the afternoon then? I can ask Mrs Lee or see if she can go play with her friend Emily from down the road. "

"It's fine." Buck told her and turned to Jee. "You're my sous chef aren't you? Are you going to help me today?"

"Yeah!" the girl yelled happily.

"But we have to be quiet ok? Tommy is sleeping upstairs and we don't want to wake him. He needs to sleep because he's sick."

Jee nodded solemnly to show she understood.

"But we're going to surprise him with cake so he'll feel better soon, right?"

"Yeah!" she yelled again, making her mother and uncle laugh.

"At least she's enthusiastic." Maddie tried and bent down to hug and kiss her daughter goodbye. "You be good for uncle Buck, me or daddy will pick you up tonight ok?"

"Ok mommy!" Jee said and climbed up onto the stool next to the kitchen counter.

"Go. We'll be fine." Buck assured her, wrapping an arm around Jee to keep her safe.

After Maddie had left, Buck gave Jee an old shirt of his to wear as apron, made her wash her hands, and the two of them got to work.

He tried to let her do as much as possible while still making sure everything was going to plan and she wouldn't hurt herself.

Before long the cake was in the oven and they started the clean up.

"And when it's done baking, we let it cool off a little and then we can put the icing on and decorate it with these." he showed Jee the assortment of sprinkles he kept in his kitchen for her.

Jee nodded happily and started planning out her sprinkles masterpiece.

Buck looked up towards the bedroom area and listened for a sign of life from his boyfriend.

When he didn't hear anything, he decided to put Jee in front of the TV and go check on him. Tommy was fast asleep, rolled up in the duvet like a human burrito, and didn't seem to have woken up since Buck had made him eat something that morning.

Satisfied everything was ok, he went back downstairs and let Jee tell him all about the cartoon she was watching, until the cake was ready for decoration.

"Which ones do you want to put on first? Pink or gold?"

"Gold!"

"Alright, gold it is. Put it on where you think is best." Buck told her. "But not too much, we need to leave room for the other colours. And we can put your name on it. And mine."

"And uncle Tommy." she decided and Buck froze for a second.

Sure Tommy and Jee had met and he'd explained to her that Tommy was to him what mommy and daddy were to each other, and he was pretty sure she'd understood, but to hear her call him uncle Tommy, that was new.

Jee didn't seem to notice just how much she'd just turned his world upside down and was babbling about what colour sprinkles should go where.

"Pink here for the heart." she decided and Buck wondered when they'd agreed on heart shaped decorations.

"Right, yeah, that... that works." he let Jee draw a heart in pink sprinkles and dutifully wrote his and Tommy's names in it. "And where should I write your name?"

Jee thought for a minute and studied the cake but then shook her head.

"No name."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Jee said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and put some sugar stars across the top half of the cake, above the heart with their names. "That's the sky. With stars."

"Oh wow, that's beautiful miss Jee, did you make that?"

Buck jumped a little when he suddenly heard his boyfriend's voice behind him and felt a hand on his waist.

"Uncle Buck helped" Jee told Tommy.

"Did he now? I'm sure you did all of the important work." Tommy said and gave her a conspiratory wink before turning to Buck and stealing a small kiss. "Hey." he greeted him softly.

"H-hey... Did we wake you?"

Tommy shook his head.

"It's fine. Had to get up eventually."

"Feeling better yet?"

Tommy shrugged and sat down at the kitchen island.

"I'm alright." he just said, which wasn't really an answer but Buck decided to let it go for now.

"Uncle Tommy, it's for you. You need to come look!" Jee insisted, pointing at the cake.

Tommy met Buck's eyes over her head and mouthed "Uncle Tommy?" at him.

Buck shrugged and smiled.

"Uncle Tommy, come see!" Jee said again, a little louder this time, clearly getting fed up with the adults in her life.

"Why don't you two come here and show me, and you can tell me what you made."

Buck helped her down from her stool and put the cake on the island in front of Tommy before helping Jee back on her stool, this time sitting next to Tommy who immediately put a hand on her back so she wouldn't fall off.

"This is the sky with the stars." she started like she was explaining the mysteries of the universe. "And you can fly to the stars."

Tommy laughed a little.

"I don't think I can go quite that high in my helicopter. But maybe I can show you how high I do go. When you're a little older. And your mommy and daddy are ok with it. Maybe uncle Evan will want to come too."

Jee-Yun turned to Buck and gave him an expectant look.

"Yeah, maybe." he settled on, trying to get his heart to calm down and not burst out of his chest hearing his boyfriend make plans with his niece. Even if she was only three and would probably have forgotten about it by the time she was old enough to even think about going up.

She seemed happy with that answer and turned back to Tommy to explain the rest of their creation.

"It's really amazing Jee, it's almost too pretty to eat don't you think?"

"No. You have to eat it. It's chocolate." she said as if that explained everything.

"Oh really? I do love chocolate." Tommy told her. "But can I take a picture of it before we eat it?" he reached into the pocket of his sweats only to realise he'd left his phone upstairs. "Evan, can you take a picture and send it to me?"

"Sure." he grabbed his phone and opened the camera. "You should be in the picture too, we made it for you after all."

Tommy dutifully posed with the cake, tilting the pan towards the camera so the decorations were clearly visible.

"And now one with the master chef herself." he put the cake back down on the table and moved a little closer to Jee so they'd both fit in the picture with the cake and Buck took a few pictures.

After that Jee insisted on having a photo shoot, and by the time Maddie came to pick her back up, his camera roll was filled with pictures of the three of them.

He showed a few to Maddie at Jee's insistence and set one of Tommy making a funny face at Jee as his new contact picture.

They said goodbye to Maddie and Jee-yun and settled on the sofa together, scrolling through the pictures and laughing at some of silly ones.

"I like this one." Buck said, stopping at a selfie of the two of them where Tommy had kissed his cheek at the last second.

"Yeah. Me too." Tommy said softly, not really looking at the picture. "Thanks. For today. For getting me out of my head."

Buck smiled and kissed him.

"Of course."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Ford wakes up in Dimension 52, hopped up on painkillers after his metal plate installation surgery, and he’s just rambling about how he misses you.

While the surgery may have been a success but Ford was feeling a sense of melancholy within his chest the second he opened his eyes.

‘Y/n?’ His voice slurred as your name was the first thing to leave his lips before realising that you weren’t by his side, the seven eyed oracle Jheselbraum was.

‘They are safe at home, safe from harm.’ She replied with all knowing certainty that still left Ford a little miffed.

‘I miss them,’ Ford began as memories of you being you flashed in the forefront of his mind, ‘they would use to wear my turtlenecks and trenchcoats, I hope they still do even if I’m too far away to see them do so.’ He chuckles halfheartedly as the ache in his chest only grew the more he reminisced. ‘The red turtleneck was their favourite and they looked really cute in it too that I just wanted to squish their cheeks and kiss them…but I’m too cowardly.’ Ford then pouts.

the pain medication was making him spill some truths of his heart that was entirely missing you and your sweet smile, your cute laughter and your well…everything! All the things he wanted to say to you, every thought he ever had about you and even his favourite things about you were coming to light in his post surgery stupor.

but regardless of what was causing Ford’s lips to have become loosened because all he wanted to talk about was you, you, and oh you!

‘Too cowardly to tell them how much I care about them, too cowardly to tell them that the moment I realised what I felt for them was beyond platonic, so much so to the point where I stayed awake at night thinking they’d hate me if I ever told them how I truly felt.’ Ford admits as he looks up to the high ceiling of the room he was slowly recovering in, only to feel the most alone he had ever felt in his entire life.

Ford swallowed thickly as his mouth seemed to keep telling Jheselbraum just how much the lack of your presence had affected him. ‘They kept me sane during times where I believed myself to have gone mad. They kept me company during my late nights of research, not once complaining about their own lack of sleep because they were too busy worrying about mine to notice the dark bags beginning to form under their eyes…but I did and I blamed myself for that.’

Ford trailed off as he distinctly remembered your look of exhaustion and the worry he felt, even now when he was god knows how many dimensions away from you he was, and the reassuring smile you’d give him when you knew he was questioning your ability to keep going.

You were far more stronger than he was but he couldn’t help but wonder how you were doing now, now that he was gone and whether or not you’ve been taking care of yourself.

‘They were the first person to hold my hand and not get scared.’ Ford said with a wide smile. ‘They didn’t care whether I had an extra finger or whatever. To them I was Ford, the loveable but sometimes Insufferable smart ass.’ Ford couldn’t help but hysterically chuckle at your nicknames for him because it was true! He was an insufferable smart ass but then remembered how you’d call him your insufferable smart ass. Your as in he was yours to call an insufferable smart ass, nobody else’s.

‘I miss them so much that I feel an ache here.’ He then sloppily points to what he thinks was his heart, however the pain meds had him pointing at his left arm unknowingly but Jheselbraum knew what he meant, you were indeed an important figure in Ford’s life that he’d find some difficulty trying to navigate a life without you in it. ‘It hurts a lot whenever I think about how much of a distance there is between us now. It hurts even more knowing that they might’ve moved on, while I still hold to hope to one day hold them in my arms once again, breathing them in and that really nice shampoo they use.’ Ford lets his arm drop to his side, eyes never once looking away from the ceiling.

‘I want to go home.’ He then said.

‘And you shall in due time.’ Jheselbraum reassures him.

‘Not to the shack,’ Ford said with a frown, ‘I meant back to them, back to y/n.’ He clarifies. ‘For they are the only home I’ll ever want to go back to.’

‘And like I said Stanford Pines, you shall in due time, but that time is not now.’ Jheselbraum says as she stands up from the chair, brushing herself down as she moves to walk out of the room to leave Ford to rest. ‘But you will see your beloved again, that is for certain.’ She adds.

‘Do you think they’ve missed me?’ Ford wonders aloud.

‘More than anything.’ Was all the oracle said before leaving the room.

A smile crept on Ford’s face as he felt himself succumbing to sleep. ‘I missed them too, more than anything…I’m coming home my dear…don’t stay up too late okay?’

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 7

2.3k | angst, drinking irresponsibly If Simon could do it all again (part 1) (part 8/end)

“You don’t look good, sir.” The sergeant stood at attention, looking straight into his lieutenant’s eyes.

Simon had to commend the balls of Kevlar required to walk right up to him to point the fact out unprompted, but that was why he liked Sgt. Eric Jefferies the most. You had no time to waste when you raced with death on the regular - he would tell anyone they didn’t look good.

He knew he didn’t - it was the same bland face he had the pleasure to look at in the mirror each day. Annoyed, but not surprised by the darkening circles under his eyes, stark against his pale complexion. It didn’t help that he nicked himself in the jaw shaving that morning.

“Dining hall, sergeant,” he grunted.

“You’re barely eating, Riley,” Lt. Ramsay said, the same bloke who’d catch him sneaking back to his room. “You know you’re contributing to the food waste when you don’t ask for seconds, yeah?”

It was true, and the table chuckled, but Simon continued to shove whatever was on his plate into his mouth. It was enough to not starve.

“He never leaves his room anymore, not even on the weekends,” another lieutenant quipped, but was promptly elbowed by the officer next to him.

That, too, was true.

Simon had nowhere else to be, like how it always was before his mum came to Hereford. These days his flat was too empty and cold with the hole in his chest. He never came back after that night.

It wasn’t like he was thriving in his quarters either, but it was still a little better – at least it was untouched by you. Though his nights were dreamless at first, he kept waking, and waking until the dreams started.

It was a glitch in the universe, wasn’t it? That the memory that played in his mind to insanity was the last time he saw you, about crawling back to your door with limbs that didn’t feel like his, vision swaying with the lights, coming on and off, his heartbeat ringing in his head.

It’s not supposed to end this way… I want to try…

He sighed at another disturbed night. Tea would slow his mind. Instead, he found the box of Darjeeling you gifted him to take back to base. ‘So we can have the same tea over the phone,’ you’d said.

Was there a way to escape you, make you stop haunting? He needed an exorcism.

He put it back in his drawer. One day, it wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.

And the nightmares came back. It was once, then twice, and thrice a week of waking up in cold sweat in the dark.

Simon’s performance slipped. There was a reason sleep deprivation was a popular torture method. He requested sleeping medications - his career was the last thing he had and he wasn’t about to let it go. Any unrestful sleep interrupted by the vivid images his sickly mind conjured up was still better than no sleep at all.

Quitting you was impossible when the thoughts still followed. If pushing you away didn’t work, maybe basking in the memories would, even if it hurt more. Aching for your warmth, the scraps of it, he’d go anywhere you’d been to see your ghost. The pain was better than the void.

“You lads are volunteering at the soup kitchen this Saturday,” he announced to Sgt. Jefferies after hours.

“Saturday, sir?”

“It’s good for you. Reminds you why you’re doing all this.”

“Can’t tell me what to do,” he teased. “You’re not my L.T. on the weekends.”

Simon’s stare didn’t waver and the other bloke’s smile dropped.

“Copy, sir. I’ll tell the others.”

When the four burly SAS soldiers entered the kitchen, chatter and clanks stalled as all eyes turned to them.

“May… May I help you young lads?” one of the middle-aged ladies said.

Simon recognised her from his last visit, but he quickly realised this was a silly idea. He was out of place, knowing no one there.

He flashed half a smile. “Just wanted to give a hand. Got any lifting to do?”

The lieutenant and his sergeants hauled the food items to the kitchen, including the bread which he taught his sergeants to half and butter. They were offered to peel potatoes, but Simon decided it was wise to leave it to the pros instead.

People still avoided his gaze while his boys exchanged pleasantries with the other volunteers; Eric even got called handsome by the group of older ladies he impressed with his strength as he hefted the sack of potatoes. While the night was as pleasant, it wasn’t the same if you weren’t there to hold his hand and laugh at his jokes.

When the boys invited Simon to the pub at the end of the night, he said no. He thought he was ready, but even after weeks, coming back to his flat was just as sickening.

The silence pierced. Despite all the lights flicked on, the place made his skin crawl, the space too vast and empty. But he didn’t become a lieutenant from succumbing to his emotions.

As he lay in bed, he recalled that you too slept there once. That the mattress once dipped with the gentle weight of you, but unlike the bed that bounced back, you’d left a lasting imprint that disfigured his soul.

Simon wondered what you were up to, if you knew he was there drowning, miserable in his cold room. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your door to be closer or further: closer so he could catch a glimpse of you without meaning to, or further so he wouldn’t be so tempted to go over and get on his knees.

You said begging only reduced you to nothing, but for you, he’d beg and beg. There wasn’t much to lose when he wasn’t much to begin with. He was a stray for a reason.

He tossed and turned, and was granted a wink of sleep before the same bloody dream flashed in his mind.

I don’t care how hard it gets…

He sat up, feet thudding on the floor as he rubbed his face with a heavy sigh. It was always that one moment, like a broken record. Why couldn’t it be you on a night out, or kissing you on the kitchen counter, or simply, you smiling? It was a curse. If only the heart could follow where one’s feet went.

With no plans on coming here, his sleeping pills lay on his desk at base. He looked through the cabinets to distract himself, finding various bottles of dusty, unopened spirits he was gifted. They weren’t his cup of tea.

So he packed, to get his mind off you, from spiralling and digging a deeper grave for itself.

It was time for a change. With the accommodation he was provided, he never needed to rent, but he did anyway in case his mum ever needed the place. It was a good call he did, but with the divorce on the way, keeping it was pointless. He’d rather spend the extra money on his mum and nephew.

Yes, he came to remember- not to forget, but you wouldn’t leave, would you? In the dead of night, when he pulled the hoodie he’d forgotten about out of his wardrobe, he decided he’d had enough of his bloody flat and drove back to base.

He still had another weekend to before his next deployment, a two-month mission. He’d finish packing then.

“You’re right, sir, it feels good volunteering.” Eric grinned at his lieutenant. “We’re going again tomorrow. Also one of the ladies is introducing her daughter to Sam. See you there then?”

Never again. “Dining hall, sergeant.”

Simon was a fool for not finishing his lunch sooner and bolting, instead lingering for the announcement. With how atrocious he did on his tests, he must have been beyond high to still hope for a miracle, that despite everything, he still had a chance at a promotion.

He didn’t make to the top 3.

Amidst the wishes from the table, Lt. Ramsay’s turned to him. His grateful smile faltered.

Simon’s fists clenched. It was supposed to be him, his. But who was he to be mad. It was the fruit of his incompetence. He knew this was coming. Things were going to shit. The unforgiving truth was staring right at him mercilessly: he had nothing else.

He left for his office.

“Sir, sir!” Sgt. Jefferies called. “We’re heading to the pub tonight. Come with us.”

He gritted his teeth. Word travelled too fast.

“Let’s get out of the base for a bit,” he continued when he caught up to his long strides. “It’s the last weekend before we ship out.”

Simon eyed the display of vibrant bottles behind the bar as he listened to his sergeants’ orders, the names foreign to him. Above, the telly showed a rugby match rerun no one paid attention to.

“Jefferies, how much you reckon it takes me to get pissed?”

He chuckled. “You, sir? At least 10,” he said before taking a swig of his beer.

“Nah, 15 sounds more like it.” Richie, the designated driver for the evening piped up.

Sam downed his first two shots, hissing as he slammed the glasses on the bar. “Agreed. Do you know how much he lifts?” He nodded at Simon’s biceps, bulging under his loose black shirt.

It was a genuine question. Simon didn’t want to get pissed, he only wanted to forget. He didn’t mean to go over his limit he had no idea was at seven.

Drunk Simon was a weeping, blabbering mess. It didn’t help that he was massive, because his sergeants had trouble getting him to the car before Richie drove him to the address of his flat he barely managed to gurgle out before passing out.

“Sir, you’re paying for the bloody cleaning if you get sick in my car!”

Why did he think this was a good idea? He was never a drinker, barely even touched alcohol socially. It was the poison that turned his dad into a demon, and it too became his downfall. The only thing he thought he would always have – his resolve, let him down too. He’d lost you, his mum whom he was supposed to protect, his future, and now his dignity.

Desperation was a lethal sentiment.

And that dream came again, that he stumbled to your door. Legs wobbly, his vision in and out as the world spun in slow motion.

“Luv… Luv, it’s not supposed to end like this,” he slurred, the same line he always opened with.

A marionette, a prisoner in his own head, it was a loop he couldn’t escape. The awful show had to commence to end the same way each time.

“I’m sick of losing and I wouldn’t know what to do when you leave, after how much you’ve given. Instead, I left when you needed me. I should have been there for you, gone through all this with you, no matter how hard it got.

“If you would give me a chance, I’ll quit the SAS. I’d start all over again. I’ll butcher the carrots and apples with the bloody peeler, I’ll let the steakhouse mess up our reservation and eat a dozen soapy tacos… If you ever show up at my door with your pie again, I swear I’d kiss you, not scare you. And I’ll never let go. If it has to hurt, I want it to be you.”

The door clicked open, and like how it always went, it meant the dream was coming to an end.

“You make it worth it,” he muttered as his vision faded.

…

Simon gasped for air, this time staring up at blinding lights. He shielded his wet eyes, chuckling to himself.

“Bloody hell, I think I’m sick on the inside.”

“Only your past, but you are not your past.” Your voice echoed in the distance.

His body was too heavy to move. “Could you forgive me, for all of this?”

“Could you? You need to forgive more than you need to be forgiven.”

He laughed as another tear slipped.

Simon woke on his couch, still in his clothes from the night before. Dreaming of you always drained him, leaving him hollow and out of touch with his body.

He sat up with a groan, rubbing his face as the dizziness settled. He didn’t remember much after getting dragged to Richie’s car. Judging by the gnarly bruise on his arm, he probably fell last night, but he was glad he found his way back to his flat in one piece.

Stumbling to the shower, he hissed when his toe stubbed one of the boxes on the floor. It was a horrendous decision to drink so much, still having to pack the rest of his stuff. He leaned over the sink, staring at his bloodshot eyes.

His sergeant was right. He didn’t look good. He never did. What the fuck are you doing to yourself, Riley?

With his hair damp, he made his way to the kitchen. As he realised he’d packed all his tea stash in one of the bloody boxes, a series of knocks echoed in his flat.

He grumbled. It better be important for someone to disturb his peace, especially with the pounding of his head. He couldn’t be bothered putting a shirt on before he swung the door open.

It was you, a pie in hand like the first time he met you all those months ago.

“Hi, is Simon in?”

His heart lurched as he crushed you in a hug.

“Thought you said you were going to kiss me.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @lyenera @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula @opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs @strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast @alright-i-guesss @maresoleil @mehjustalasshere @rrtxcmt

[thewritetofreespeech]

May I request Alucard (Castlevania) getting a massage from his s/o that starts out innocent only for it to turn slightly intimate?

Alucard x reader + massage

Alucard winced again as he stretched his shoulders.

He might have incredible healing from his vampire side, but the trials he has had to go through over the past few months have taken their toll. It seemed every day he woke up there was some new kind of sore or twinge of pain in his body. Invisible battle scars.

“Are you alright?” [Y/N] asked as they seemed to notice his fleeting discomfort.

“It’s nothing.” Alucard replied quickly. Going back to his tasks.

“It didn’t look like ‘nothing’. Are you hurt? From the other night?”

“No. Well…not really.” He wanted to just leave it at the ‘no’ but he could never lie to [Y/N]. Even white lies, or omission of the truth. “It’s my back. It’s just a little sore.”

“Well, you went through a wall.” They told him. “That’s understandable.”

They go back to their respective chores, but Alucard winced again, so [Y/N] spoke up. “It’s really bothering you eh? Why don’t you let me give you a massage?”

“A massage?” Alucard repeated with an arched brow. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Come on. It’s not like that.” They insisted. “Massage has actual therapeutic properties to it. It’s as legitimate as any other non-invasive medical practice. Just…people use it for other things.” There was a slight blush to their cheeks. “In any case, it might help. Get the kinks out. Trust me. You’ll feel better.”

Alucard was still skeptical, but even the suggestion of relief seemed to make his back tense up in excitement of finally being free. So he gave in. “Fine. Lead on.”

They headed back through the castle towards his bed chamber and [Y/N] told him to strip and lay down on the bed. “Whatever level of undressed you feel comfortable with.” He wanted to tell them that his level of comfort with nudity meant that he would need to be fully clothed under the covers, but he realized that was not helpful. So he just took his shirt off.

“Do you still have that lavender oil blend Sypha gave you when you weren’t sleeping?”

“What? Oh…it’s in the box on the dresser.” He forgot about that. Seemed there was no shortage of ailments to his person these days.

They seem to find it quickly and head over to the bed to straddle him from behind across his lower back. “You need to relax.” They told him.

“I’m trying.” This was all very new to him. Being close to people. Being touched. His instincts, honed from the past few months, badgering him about being ‘pinned’ from behind. He felt their fingers run through his long hair, combing it a little as they moved it out of the way, and he took a deep breath as that seemed to help.

The air was suddenly flooded with the scent of lavender and other calming herbs. Alucard suddenly remembered how strong the scent was, and probably why he only used it a few times. He flinched when the cool oil touched his back and tried to relax again when he felt [Y/N]’s hands spread it across his back. “Is this ok?”

Alucard nodded into the pillow. Not sure if he should talk or if that would ruin the moment and ‘relaxation’ he was working on. Their hands then moved up to his shoulders and gripped them with a little more pressure than before. He instantly let out a groan.

“Sorry. Is that a good noise or a bad noise?”

“It…it’s fine…”

The hands on his shoulders were slowly kneading out all the stress. It was a little uncomfortable, at first, but his muscles were definitely giving way to their ministrations. He took another deep breath and sunk further into the bed.

This continued for a while. Alucard wasn’t sure how long. He lost track of time and nearly everything but the hands on his back. Moving in a coordinator effort from one muscle group to the next. It was like he was in a daze by the time they were finished. Barely registering the question of, “do you feel better?” to which he was only able to nod.

[Y/N] smiled down at him and leaned down to give him a kiss. He lifted up his head a little to meet them, and what was properly meant as just a quick peck soon turned into a lazy, soft, open mouth kiss on top of him. “Wow. You must be feeling better.”

“Yes. I…” Alucard suddenly realized that, although his back wasn’t stiff anymore, something else was. “I…I think I feel a little too much better.”

[Y/N] seemed confused for a minute, but they were a clever person and quickly caught on. “Oh! Do you…” Alucard surely looked about as embarrassed as he felt. So [Y/N] dropped it. “I’ll get back downstairs then. If you….well…take all the time you need.”

They climbed off of him and Alucard just laid there for a moment. Willing his erection down. It went back down soon enough, and he sat up from the bed pain free for the first time in months. He would have to thank [Y/N] properly when he went downstairs. Or maybe tonight. With perhaps a less legitimate massage.

[missbluesunflowersstuff]

Some batfamily headcanon

They all have auditory processing disorder at this point, except for Damian and Duke

Damian is the youngest and Bruce and the others protect him most and Duke uses armor plus his powers makes him a little difficult to get hurt

Dick is partially deaf in his left ear and Tim is partially deaf in his right ear

Bruce and Jason suffer from chronic pain

If Steph or Damian just stopped and went into some blank state for more than two minutes call the most responsible adult near immediately, they are having an anxiety attack (they just freeze and stare at nothing, this is their anxiety attack)

Tim has narcolepsy actually this is why he has the worst sleeping schedule of them all

(Tim's narcolepsy may be undiagnosed, diagnosed but his parents hid the result, Tim refuses to take his medication because he believes he can "handle" it, it's up to you)

Jason, Cass and Damian have PTSD

(all of them have it actually, but these three have the worst attacks)

Dick emergency contact is Donna Troy

and it doesn't matter what the batfamily do or say, Dick is always puts Donna as his emergency contact

Damian emergency contact is Maya Ducard

Damian had a lot of nightmares in him early years, the family takes turns to take care of it

Jason and Damian have intrusive thoughts (hurt the others and hurt themselves, Jason villain era was basically 'I let my intrusive thoughts win' ) - today Damian handled it better than Jason did in the past (Jason I love you, but I will never forgive you for what you did to Mia Dearden)

Bruce created a lot of personas for his work and because of it Dick created the "hamburger theory"

If he accepts the hamburger and eats it with both hands it's Batman; if he starts eating his hamburger with fork and knife it's Bruce Wayne; if he's holding the burger with a napkin and smile it's Brucie; but if he rejected the hamburger just run, it's not safe near him in that moment

Dick made this theory when he still was a Robin and this is some 'don't tell dad' information between all of the kids

They usually share information with Cass in audio to help her understand, Babs still helps her with how to read but she prefers to use emojis or audio messages

Cass may or may not respond to their audio, but she will view it

Bruce and the others have no clue about Dick real health status because the only person who has legal rights to it is Donna and she doesn't share with them

One time Tim tried to steal Damian medical records to put in their data, he found out that Maya already did that and now she is the only person in the world legally allowed to have that information

Both Dick and Damian don't regret their decision because they really trust in their sisters more than the bats

(and yes, Bruce feels breyated because of this)

14!Damian is still a little afraid of sleeping, because he doesn't know what kind of dream he might have (he doesn't have nightmares like he used to, but the anxiety is still there)

Duke and Damian usually hang out more than the others; one time Steph asks why in the common channel and Duke only answers "you know that me and him are basically immortals, right? When everyone leaves, we'll still be here" (Duke is immortal because of his powers and Damian... Do you really think his family would allow him die?)

No one knows exactly the kind of shit Damian was submitted in the league and as Tim falls in get his medical records they'll never knows

The same applicants for Cass trying, what exactly Cain did with her is something she'll never tell

Jason actually has amnesia from his league days or some kinda of weird and very selective amnesia, everything just looks like a blur to him

Jason believes that he was hypnotized to forget everything or some weird magic stuff. But on some nights, in the silence of his room, Jason still seems like a fat baby lying near him, he wonders who is the baby and who they are now...

Some days, because of his chronic pain, Bruce uses a cane to walk around the house, but only inside

[daxerian]

Mama y Papa

Carlos Sainz x Reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: my grammar😻, sickness and fluff

Words: around 4k I think

A/n: I am so sorry I was gone for a month but girlie was sick and wanted to spend time with her friends and family🤞🏼

Y/N was talking to Carmen about life you know? Work, their relationships, family, etc.

It was a pretty deep conversation until they heard "Y/nnnnn?"

Of course, it was Lando asking his 'grid mum' for something to help him with, which was no problem from her side but when she saw Lando holding a bottle of water and looking a bit annoyed, she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Oh, Lando what's wrong?" Carmen asked smiling knowing that the 2 had a mother/son bond that will never be broken.

"I can't open the bottle and I couldn't find Carlos" Lando answered Carmen. "Hand me the bottle darling" Y/N said while waiting for Lando to give her the bottle. She opened it like nothing and handed it back to him, "There you go" Lando just looked at the bottle for a few seconds and then took it, "Thank you Y/N" "No problem Lando"

----

It was around 1 am when Y/N found herself looking at the wall cursing herself out for drinking coffee at 7 pm. At least Carlos is having the time of his life sleeping and clinging to her body.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when somebody decided to call her. She only wondered, who the hell would want to call at this hour? Surprisingly it was Lando, she went into an instant worry in seconds and picked up almost immediately.

"Lando, are you okay?" The worry in her voice was incredible because people wouldn't worry like that when their friends called at night, well that was not the case for Y/N and Carlos Sainz.

"Can you pick me up? I'm near the coffee shop you like and it's freezing and I don't have a jacket or a sweatshirt" Lando answered her, "I'll be there" She hung up the phone a started to wake Carlos up. "Carlos, wake up! Carlos!" once he did wake up he asked his wife "What's wrong mi amor?"

"It's Lando" and that sentence was all it took for Carlos to fully wake up. "Well, why are you still laying in bed? Let's go" Carlos hurried his wife out of bed because if something would happen to Lando he wouldn't survive it. He promised himself that he would take care of him the second he met him.

---

It was the day after the British GP and Lando wasn’t feeling well, was it because he went out clubbing to celebrate? Probably yes.

He tried calling Carlos and Y/N but they weren't picking up, that was the moment Lando accepted his fate. He had to go through the pain alone. Until a miracle happened. Carlos called back.

"Lando, are you okay?" Carlos asked curious, "No, I feel horrible and I've been throwing up" Lando admitted, "You've been what?" it was Y/N's time to ask Lando questions, "Have you taken any sort of medication? You know what, we'll go to the pharmacy and grocery shop so I can make you soup okay?"

Y/N told Lando the plan she created in seconds because there was no way she would let Lando deal with it by himself. Carlos hung up the phone and followed his wife asking her more questions like 'What do we need?' type of questions.

20 minutes later the couple was in Lando's apartment. Y/N made some soup while Carlos had Lando laying in his lap talking to him on the couch. "Lando you will take this after you eat okay?" Y/N showed him the medicine, "Mhm" he answered with this tired tone to his voice which Carlos or Y/N didn't like.

Lando fell asleep on Carlos' lap, and the couple was now having this genuine conversation. "He's like a few years younger than us but acts like a teenager" Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at the last part, "Oy mi amor, he's our son at this point no?" and Carlos was right "Our firstborn!" Y/N added.

---

Carlos, Y/N decided to take Lando with them for their vacation. They decided to visit New Zealand first, and after that, Carlos and Y/N will be going on a big family vacation to Ibiza.

They went to a restaurant because they got hungry and when they arrived Y/N was ready for this;

"Y/N can you please order for me?" Lando asked politely, "Tell me what you want to eat then". "This pasta and this mixed drink please" Lando pointed at the menu while telling Y/N his order, Carlos just sat back and quietly enjoyed the moment because even though Lando is old enough to be enjoying life on his own, he would rather spend it with the people he idolizes. Carlos and Y/N Sainz.

[pampushky]

ive been watching him for my entire life

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 1 - 6.1k

TW: Scene of attempted SA, and the abuser never referred to by name. Sexism (but in the A/B/O sense). Self-harm and depressive episodes.

Themes: Exploration of what disabilities, PTSD, and chronic pain look like in the A/B/O world. If you have input about what that may look like, dm me. Slow burn. So much so you're not sure if it's even burning at times.

also yeah Loscar is canon it's my au I can do what I fucking want

Leave your feedback in the comments/feel free to dm me about that shit if you don't feel comfy dropping an anon or comment.

next part | masterlist | series masterlist

Mid January. 2024 Paris.

The hallway outside the trial room in the FIA headquarters is deceptively calm. Silent, save for the voices in the room behind you. You’d given your statement. Explained everything that had happened during your past two years at Williams, first with Nicholas Latifi, and then with Logan. Trying to do something with a car that was, in the kindest words, a tractor. Logan sits beside you, with a similar thousand-yard stare, just disassociating into space. Trying to trace the pattern of the carpet. 

“I should have been more— more perceptive,” Logan croaks, and you squeeze his hand, and shake your head. “Jesus. I— I tried to tell them everything. Everything I remembered from before–-”

“Thank you,” your voice is faint. Weak. Unlike you.

“Of course,” Logan squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back. “Always.”

You still remember the pit wall. Having to brush against his elbows occasionally. Knowing he did it on purpose some days, trying to provoke you. Going so far as to send you things coated in his scent when you were in heat, to try and provoke a bond sickness. Saved only by your brothers, curled close to you, letting you sleep in their arms as your fever raged. You were lucky your heats weren’t— weren’t consistently like that. More so just like a terrible fever and migraine, thanks to your medication. 

One pill to keep you from entering a real heat, morning. Two pills to help ease the brain fog from your head injury, morning and night. Another single pill to be taken whenever the pain gets too bad for you to function, any time of day. Anxiety medication, morning. Hormonal amplifiers to make up for the scent glands damaged by the fire all those years ago, morning and night. Scent blockers to mask your scent, morning. In total eight pills a day at your worst, perhaps nine.  

You croon nervously, despite knowing you’re safe here. That just inside the room behind you, past the heavy oak doors, are your grandfather and your uncles brothers. They’d never let anything happen to you. Not again. 

His elbow brushing against yours during the last lap of the race, encouraging Alex, despite his pace and his spot on the grid. Logan thanking you for being his engineer and friend during everything. You sit along the pit wall, silently, as celebrations rock the grid, and he appears in front of you, trying to make small talk, before following as you try to escape it, not wanting to talk to him, even as he looms behind you. His grip on the back of your neck, smothering the only bond you had, to Niki, to your pack. 

The near-toxic scent smothers you because of how close he is. Pushing you behind a stack of tires as you try to fight back, baring your teeth and thrashing while he manages to shove a need into your upper thigh, right through your pants. You yelp, and kick, trying to get any attention towards you, while most of the garage is empty. You feel him tearing at the collar of your shirt, ripping at it, pushing you into the tires. You bring your head into his nose, feeling the gush of blood against your face as he squeals and falls backward a few steps. 

You can’t smell anything besides his blood on your face, the metallic scent making you gag. When he turns to look at you, his face stained red, you growl, your lips drawn back over your teeth, trying to edge along the wall to get away from him. 

With a snarl, he leaps at you, pinning you to the wall, both hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your airway. You thrash, and just as you think you’re going to pass out, the weight of his hands disappears from your neck. You stay where you are, leaning against the wall. Watching as Logan snarls furiously, pinning the other Alpha to the ground with ease, his long canines bared and coming close to the man’s neck, threatening to tear and rip and end whatever pathetic life he lived—

“I should have done more,” Logan leans down, his head in his hands. 

“You almost killed him,” you whisper, and that seems to startle the driver even more. “You almost killed him. I think that’s enough.”

The two of you sit in silence until Logan’s lawyer and his manager leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. For the brief moment that the doors are open, you hear him screaming his voice hoarse as the judgment comes ever closer. 

“The FIA won’t be pressing any charges,” The lawyer says softly while Logan continues to keep his head down. “Neither will—”

“Don’t say his name,” Logan looks up, interrupting the lawyer before he can even say something. There’s a fire in his words, a rare fury. “Don’t. I don’t— she doesn’t—”

“I apologize, I forgot about that.” The lawyer says, glancing over to look at you. You look presentable now. Nothing like the blurry images the paparazzi had gotten of you without any of your makeup to hide all the burns. Your skin looks more even, the uneven bumps and indents from the mottled scarring across your jaw partially hidden by concealer and foundation. The scars get more severe as they cross your upper cheek and the top of your nose. That’s the only part that’s harder to hide, even when you’ve covered it fully in makeup. 

“It’s time to go, Logan,” 

He looks at you with uncharacteristic panic. He’s the opposite of most alpha stereotypes. You’re glad Oscar’s found his way back to him, and that you’ve gotten to witness the sweet courtship start. He pulls you into a tight hug, and that’s when you finally crumble.

“You’re gonna be okay without me,” You whisper, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be fucking fantastic, Lo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Is all he can murmur, practically folding over you and holding you closer. “Maybe if I—”

“It’s okay. I’ll still be on the grid.”

“But it won’t be the same,”

“No. It won’t,” You choke out, as Logan pulls away. Both of you newly aged by the experience. You won’t be there to defend Logan from James. Logan won’t be there to understand the odd homesickness for a country you only partially remember, stuck between European and American. 

You feel small as Logan is led away by his manager and lawyer. His scent fading as the seconds turn to minutes, and then suddenly an hour has passed. Leaving you alone in the hallway until your brothers can get there. By the time they do arrive (two hours later), you’ve been chewing on your fingers and palms enough to make them bleed. Mathias and Lukas know you well enough to have already brought bandages and towels to help clean and treat the new wounds. Before this, you’d not been chewing or clawing at yourself for nearly a year and a half. Your therapist had looked devastated when you’d turned in the little chip she’d given you for not self-harming. 

There’s screaming from inside the room, before Niki bursts out, snarling a remark over his shoulder before he catches your eye, and softens. Your sire, despite his age, despite the fact that he has been told by his doctor many times that he needs to calm down, to be kinder to his aging body and new kidney, despite everything that should be holding him back, bends to knock his forehead against yours. One of his hands comes to the nape of your neck, softly rubbing the paternal bond he’d left there, claiming you as his child rather than a descendant. 

“Maus,” The feel of his scarred hands is familiar, comforting. His scent is even more so. Like spruce trees and slightly burnt sugar. Looking at you with red-rimmed irises that show his designation, his secondary sex, while he looms over you protectively. He sees the new bandages around your hands and the new bulkiness of your sleeves. 

“Oh, Maus…” Niki leans down, and croons 

If he wasn’t in active recovery from the kidney transplant, he’d likely be curling around you in his wolf form, just as he had done when you were little and first placed in his care after—

“You’re safe here. You’re safe.” 

It’s moments like this that you’re glad that your sense of smell was so destroyed after the fire. You’re grateful that you could only catch the faint scent of those within a small area around you. Because all you can smell is your father, your sire, who would burn the world down for you if it meant making you smile. That Mathias and Lukas— your brothers, not uncles, never uncles, too close to be considered just uncles to you— mark a silent guard beside you, Lukas in canine form, letting you hide your face in his dusty blond-brown fur. Mathias stands silently beside you, but with his hand held tightly in yours.

Memories of your first moments with them. The terror. Sleeping in the pillow forts and nests you’d built up until this very point in time. Always your guardians. Always by your side. In the hospital and beyond. 

You’re chewing on your thumbnail, claw extended, and Niki looks at you with a worried gaze, before softly reaching over and squeezing your shoulder.

The door opens again, and you hear shouting in a voice that haunted your dreams from within the room and then more of it, very quickly coming in your direction. Not the exit that you’d been told he would be made to use when the judgment was finally placed. 

You can just barely catch a whiff of the scent— overpowering and choking you as you tried to work, tried to examine all of the strategies that could help Logan succeed in last year’s car while the scent makes it hard to think, to breathe— before it’s nearly upon you entirely, with the Alpha who had made your past two years with Williams utter hell staring down at you, enraged, trying to push past your brothers to get to you, snarling and snapping at you as Niki shoves you forcefully behind him. 

“Tell them— tell them you accepted my courtship! You wanted this—”

Two officials start to drag him away. But you can still remember his scent. How weak he’d made you feel when you were trying to work on the car. Hating how he had purred and crooned with your every movement. Making sure you were always choking on his scent. Lukas rumbles in anger beside you, rising to stare down the man, hiding you from further view with his giant body. But of course he continues. 

“You accepted my gifts! You wanted this—”

No. You hadn’t wanted any of this. You’d just wanted to work on the cars. To help your friend grow and achieve. 

“As if anyone else would have you—”

Mathias snarls, and you can only pray that your grip on his hand is enough to stop him from lunging at the offending man.

“— you useless, crippled omega—”

Niki lunges this time, snarling, the old man’s frankly colossal canine form pining him to the ground with ease. Your sire's teeth just millimeters from tearing his throat out, stopped only by your panicked whine. Such a rare noise from you. You won’t have those you care about kill this man, this weak excuse for an Alpha. You don’t want to think of the heavy scent of his blood when you’re near them, seeking comfort from your family.

“Get him out of my sight,” Niki groans, when just a second later, court officers charge from the room. His canine form melts away, and he huffs, sitting down in one of the stiff chairs with a wince that you are hyper-aware of. Mathias looks at you with deep worry in his eyes. But you’re numb. Watching him get dragged away. Your thigh twinges from where he’d stabbed you with the needle. Part of it had broken off inside of you, removed at the hospital while the FIA officials tried to smooth things over. 

It twinges again when the verdict is read as you’re gently shuffled back into the room. He’s not allowed back in. It’s been shown he can’t control himself. 

“—Guilty on all counts, and shall be henceforth blacklisted from employment by all motorsports under the jurisdiction of the FIA. Omega Lauda shall be awarded a sum off—”

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as you hold your arms tightly. Claws slowly sinking into the fresh bandages and redoing all the damage your brothers had worked so hard to fix.

Early February 2024. Woking. 

Lando knows he’s a big deal. He’s one of the most popular drivers, with a rabid fanbase that was willing to go to bat for him for just about anything, even when he was the one at fault. Edits were made when he so much as breathed. All that he doesn’t have is that elusive first win, but he has a feeling this season will be different. Be it how refreshed he feels after spending some time back in his childhood home with his parents and siblings, just to spend time as a pack for the first time in several years, all six of them together. 

His family is perfect. An alpha and omega set of parents, with two alphas and two omegas for pups, all rather successful. His brother, a former world champion in kart racing, now with a loving mate and the cutest pup in the world. His sister, a showjumper quickly rising through the ranks. All successful and perfect and beautiful. Lando can’t help but puff his chest out a bit, because that’s his pack. 

There’s an odd buzz in the air when he arrives, and through the giant glass windows, he can see how many people are gathered in the building, all wearing bright orange. As he comes closer, the overflowed parking has been filled. He parks his car in his specific spot, right next to Oscar, who’s already there, just not by his car. He’s just about ready to head to the on-site cafe when Andrea pops out of nowhere to drag him by his arm somewhere, cursing slightly.

“Mate— what’s got you in such a mood—” Lando whines, already feeling like the team principal is doing way too much this early in the morning. 

“Did you not read any of your emails or texts?” Andrea hisses, the Beta turning on his heels to grab Lando by both his shoulders, looking straight into the young driver’s eyes with a fury only seen when he’d been messing around in the garage and nearly broke the experimental back wing during testing in the summer. “Lando Norris, I could gut you right now—”

“What did I do?” Lando whines again, high-pitched and childish, and Andrea runs his hands down his face, cursing fluently in Italian, while also asking the Virgin Mary for patience, based on how many times he hears a hail mary tumble past the team principal’s lips. 

“You’re late. An hour late. Oscar, Zak, and I have been calling you for nearly that entire time and you’ve been silent.”

“...Late for what?” Lando utters. His phone had been dead, constantly forgotten to get plugged into the charger. Today had been no different. 

“O Maria, dammi la pazienza e la forza— your new race engineer is being introduced? Today?”

“What?! But I don’t even know who he is—”

“It’s a she, first of all, and maybe you’d know if you checked your emails—”

The conversation must be attracting attention, because soon, Oscar is also by his side, looking mildly disappointed in the older man. The omega’s scent has just the hint of rotting oranges, but other than that, it’s normal, like seasoned salt, charcoal, and oranges. 

“Wonderful first impression, really. She’s already thrilled to not have gotten to talk to you yet,” Oscar chimes in, and Lando groans, sending a withering glare in his direction that just bounces off of the Australian. “Now you just get to improvise your way through a panel about how excited you are to be working with her.”

“I don’t even know who she is!” Lando finally barks, his scent turning a bit panicked. It’s like a thunderstorm and a hot, dry heat, smelling how burnt food tastes.

“Mate, you’re fucking kidding me—,” Oscar starts, only to be interrupted by a polite cough behind Lando. 

“She is right behind you, Mr. Norris,” The voice is monotone. Icy. Damn near robotic. And he knows it immediately because you’re the current star of most engineering circles around the grid and the damn talk of every single person they’d interviewed to replace Will when it became clear Lando needed a change. You’d managed to pull decency and consistent points into Williams of all teams. It baffles him, honestly. How you’d managed that, he has no idea, but he assumes it’s through pure spite and fury.

You’re styled elegantly, with a tailored set of pleated, pale gray slacks and a cozy-looking, chunky knit black sweater, tucked into the top of your pants. Black dress shoes. Somehow, the slacks don’t even look bulky, cinching high on your waist, and it’s flattering how slimming the entire outfit is, despite all the known laws of fashion saying that this shouldn’t be such a flattering look. The neck of the sweater is in a mock style, clearly giving the statement of a private individual, hiding any possible claiming bonds. Your hair is in a perfectly messy but neat braid down your back, with two long pieces pulled from the top to slightly frame your face. 

So plain. But elegant.

Everything about you sets Lando off a bit. And he doesn’t know why. But you just tilt your head at him. As if he’s some puzzle for you to fix. It doesn’t help that he can’t get even a trace of your scent. Only the sterile odor that came with cleaning supplies and medicine. Almost like you’re on heavy medications or that you sleep in a hospital. It unnerves him. Lando’s heard a few rumors that you’re an alpha, and that you simply want to smell that way so as to not be assigned a certain stereotype or intimidate anyone.

After all, word on the grid was you left Williams because of how they’d handled the situation between the other race engineer and the anonymous omega colleague who’d been assaulted. 

So you at least had morals. 

“Oscar had mentioned you were…. A bit lax.” You murmur, icy eyes flicking up and down his form, your tone impassive and your stance closed off. “I hadn’t imagined you would be this bad, though.” 

“I’m actually quite good, normally.” 

“About checking your email and phone? Or should I put a tracker on you?” 

“Hilarious.” 

“I’m aware I am.” You say so dryly, so bluntly, that Lando feels one of his eyes twitch as a stylist manages to help pull him together to look somewhat presentable using the wardrobes saved. You just talk softly with Oscar the entire time, a fond look in your eyes as you talk to the Omega driver. 

Right. Logan. Oscar. You’d been Logan’s engineer before. You’d probably gotten to know Oscar through that. When Lando’s finally presentable enough, the stylist makes a final adjustment to your outfit by quickly weaving an orange ribbon around the end of your braid. 

“...I will not be wearing this when I am working,” you examine the ribbon, frowning. “You’re lucky to have me in this now.”

“What, don’t like papaya?”

“No. Red is better.” You just murmur, still frowning at the ribbon, before letting it go. “Vati won in red. All three times.”

“Well, change is inevitable,” Lando fakes a sigh, and this makes you scowl. “I like the orange better, anyway.”

“You’ve yet to win, anyway,” You dismiss his comment with a simple wave of your hand, and go to follow Zak out onto the stage, leaving Lando a bit baffled. Oscar just snickers, patting him on the back and leaving the Brit scrambling to follow the both of you. 

The press conference goes immaculately. You’re the darling of the media, who seem to love how dry you are with every single answer. Just like Niki had been, even when you border on insulting most of the journalists asking the question. You look about ready to choke yourself with the wire of the microphone in front of you when someone asks you your opinion on Rush. 

“She thinks McLaren looked better in red,” Lando grins, looking at you with a mischievous grin. 

“McLaren had more wins in red.” You say bluntly, causing laughter to erupt. Lando’s ears turn pink. “We shall see if that is to change.”

He’s quiet for the rest of the press conference, until…

“Any statement on why you left Williams?”

You go rigid. Just for a second. And from where you sit beside him, Lando catches just the tiniest scent of anxiety on you, under all the sterile, medicinal odor that permeates the air around you. 

“....I thought that was obvious,” You mumble into the mic, before clearing your throat. “I, ah, don’t take kindly to anyone— especially someone who was considered my partner— trying to take advantage of someone. So.” 

There’s a tremor to your voice, barely detectable. And under the table, you’re squeezing your knee. Your hand shakes as the question repeats in your mind. Any statement on why you left Williams? The crowd is suddenly not safe. As he looks at you from every face, every set of eyes now staring at you, even when you know he’s not there. There’d been heightened security, Andrea and Zak had promised that. Oscar was here, already with a nest in his private suite at the factory, prepared for you to crash in when the press conference was over. You try to speak, to play the part of the stoic Alpha the grid has assigned to you, but your tongue is dry in your mouth. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement in the back of the crowd. Your hindbrain croons, and you feel yourself fighting off the urge to turn canine, to simply burst from the stage and run towards where you know is safe. He’s not there, Zak promised. He will never be anywhere near you again. 

You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe—

“What a stupid fucking question,” Lando blurts out, a snarl in his voice. “It’s obvious why she left. She has morals and doesn’t tolerate that kind of shit. Ask a proper question or fuck off,” 

Zak calls an end to the press conference quickly after, and you make your way off stage quickly, retching into a trashcan the moment you’re hidden from the cameras and watching eyes. Oscar is beside you, stroking your back, trying to comfort you, as he had that first night, curled beside you in your own nest while Logan sits on guard at the entrance to the room. Making sure that he won’t be there to find you. Even when he is being held by the FIA and local authorities for investigation, and Niki is already on a private jet to make sure you’re okay. You’re not in the hotel room in the UAE, you’re in Woking. 

“Fucking stupid twats,” Lando spits, as he walks off stage, and nearly misses the fact that you’re puking. It’s almost comical how he does a double take, and scrambles over to you. “Shit, are you good?”

“No,” you say dryly, head still in the trash can. “But— thank you, for your defense.” 

“Yeah— I— I’m assuming you knew, the omega. The one affected, I mean.” Lando babbles, and it dawns on you briefly that Lando doesn’t know. 

The only people who do know are just Zak and Andrea— it’d been a big part of the negotiations around you being hired— and of course, Oscar, who you’d called the first night after presenting. You’re partially thankful for that, because then it means that even fewer know your designation. He really hadn’t checked any of his emails. 

“You could say that.” You mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Oscar’s partially frozen, until he just continues to comfort you, wordlessly understanding that you don’t want to tell Lando. “We— we were close.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please pass the message on that what they experienced— fuck, man, it’s fucking inexcusable—” Lando runs a hand through his curls, clearly stressed by the entire incident that had just happened at the press conference. So you keep your mouth shut, and clap him on the shoulder. Trying to act like the Beta or Alpha he thinks you are. 

“Enough about that. They’re— they got rewarded enough money to retire. They’re doing fine. Good therapist. Good house. Service dog to keep them safe.”

Your voice sounds so empty, but it’s not a lie. You’d been given enough money to quit nearly three times over. And you’d used it to start the search for a service dog that could help you with deep pressure therapy and watch your back in the garage. You’d needed a new one anyway, after your old dog had to be retired around a year ago. You’d needed one, doctor’s orders, to help you with you nearly-destroyed sense of smell, and the fact that you’re now deaf in one ear. 

“That’s—that’s good, at least,” Lando mumbles, but he doesn’t look convinced. 

An awkward silence stretches between you and the driver for what feels like hours, but is likely only seconds. He’s unconvinced. You know it. Oscar knows it. But frankly, Lando seemed to understand that questioning you right now is the least of his concerns. 

“What about a tour of the factory?” Oscar buts in, killing the silence just when you feel like you have to say something. Always the peacekeeper. Always the savior. “It could— could give you time to get to know each other.”

“No time for that, unfortunately,” Zak interrupts softly, uncharacteristic of his normal behavior. He refrains from touching you at all. Which you can’t help but be thankful for— already so different from Williams, and the disconnected behavior of the board. 

Had he heard the conversation? Did he understand what you were trying to pass off to Lando, at least for the time being? A glance in his direction as you brush yourself off reveals nothing. 

“Time for… a quick meeting. Just to get to know everyone better.” 

“I want to be there,” Oscar looks at the CEO, just as Andrea rejoins the group, looking a bit exhausted, after dealing with what would likely be a bit of a PR issue. 

“You were going to anyway.” Andrea sighs, rubbing his temple. “Shall we?” And you're whisked into a spacious conference room, decorated with the portraits of champions and drivers all around you.

McLaren is…. Interesting. Leagues different from Williams, as you’ve come to realize. It seems that every step further into the orange-hued team leads you further to this conclusion. It’s mostly discussions of the next month’s schedule, as it heads into the new year of testing before the season starts. You look at the calendar, making notes varying from calling Lando to be sure he’s awake at least two hours before anything starts, to avoid any issue like today happening, to then buying a mini fridge for your office to keep your food. 

“And about this morning,” Lando says bashfully, smiling at you in a way that shows he’s used to getting away with things like that, “Won’t happen again. My phone was dead, and—”

“Correct, it won’t happen again.” You say bluntly, and look at him over your laptop, before closing it. Inadvertently, your claws come out, and you start to pick at the edge of the table. An old nervous tick you've never gotten rid of. “It was unacceptable, and shows a severe lack of discipline on your part.” 

The table goes silent. Oscar is clearly trying not to laugh. Andrea and Zak look surprised by your chilly tone. 

“I mean, I suppose,” Lando says, frowning a bit at how blunt you are. 

“There is no ‘I suppose’, there is the truth.” You lean forward over the table to look at him. “Do you want to be a world champion, Lando Norris?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then start acting like it. You’re not the youngest on the grid anymore.” Your claw scratches against the edge of the table again, leaving a faint mark. “I’ll talk to your trainer after this. You’re going to do extra conditioning for every tardy arrival to a meeting, practice, whatever, starting with this morning.”

“That seems a bit much,” Andrea starts, but Zak lets out a low whistle. Almost impressed. 

“You’re treating him like a football coach would.”

“I’m treating him as he should be. He is an athlete. He represents a team. Such actions can reflect poorly.”

“It was one time!” Lando protests.

“Was it?” You challenge, raising an eyebrow. Lando has to stop himself from growling, reminding himself he must be civil. “Was it just a one-time occurrence last season, Andrea?”

Lando bites his lower lip. You’re much stricter than Will had ever been. Andrea just holds up his hands, looking back at him with an apologetic gaze while you prompt him to answer. 

“I admit… things have been a bit relaxed as of late,” The team principal scratches the back of his head, and you make a little tutting noise, before turning to look at Lando again. 

“Then we’re fixing it.” 

A long pause settles. And you start again.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, and icy eyes that challenge even the famous death stare of your sire. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say what you were going to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks. 

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissyfit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?” 

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated. 

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else. 

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icily calm. 

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or speaking to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you speak. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With that classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth. 

“Fine then.”

You push yourself up easily, and stand, looking down at him. 

“Firstly, you are incredibly arrogant. You take risks without properly considering the chances of failure. Whenever you do inevitably end up in a lower place than your high-and-mighty ass thinks you deserve, you then take it out on everyone but yourself, when it’s solely your own decisions getting you there.”

You take a deep breath in, and he can hear the rattle of it in your throat as you start to walk around the table towards him as if you’re stalking your prey. Glaring all the while. Eyes glowing in the light. Andrea has his head in his hands behind you.

“Furthermore, you’ve yet to win a single race. Just one. You are not a world champion because you’re a fan favorite and show extreme promise. Everyone is here because they showed promise at one point or another. You’re a brat of a driver with an ego boosted by all of the people who want to get into your pants and the fact that these fuckers,” You snarl when you whip your hand out to point to Zak and Andrea, who at least have the decency to look a bit ashamed, “…don’t discipline you enough.”

And then you stop, and pull him up by the collar so fast that he gets whiplash, looking you right in your eyes, and can see the angry, mottled skin of severe scarring just hidden under the concealer on your face. Zak still seems to be reeling from the comment you made about how soft they are on Lando, and the way that you’re bristling for a fight.

“Thirdly. You’re a fucking jackass who’s mad someone got called over here to stop your ass from having another hissyfit while being interviewed. I hope the food from the races this year gives you explosive diarrhea from all the spices.”

With that, you let go of his collar and storm out of the room, screaming in German the entire way out, while slamming the door behind you.

Andrea only groans, looking at Lando from between his fingers, while Zak has his head against the table. Oscar has his hands tightly threaded in his hair. But then you come storming back in, with something in your hand. Lando just barely manages to swat it out of the way, and listens to it hit the ground, sounding like an empty can.

And you throw your hands in the air. “Oh, so you can react when a Red Bull is suddenly coming at you! Now do it with the fucking car, dipshit!”

Lando feels his eye twitch once. Twice. And then he’s throwing the crinkled can right back at you, the two of you screaming at each other in two separate languages while Andrea pushes himself between you two, with Zak trying his best to mediate the situation. Oscar looks like he would rather be anywhere else than between the two of you, eyes straight to the center of the table when you’re both finally separated. His scent is sour and awkward. Lando’s smells of burnt rubber. Your teeth are still bared, scent hidden. And that somehow makes Lando angrier.

“Never insult my voice again,” You hiss at Lando, eyes burning as the Brit sits in the chair while you stay standing. Oscar is holding tightly to his shoulder, the omega’s fingers digging into his skin. “I’ll gut you like a fucking fish if you do.” 

The faintest trace of an American accent makes Lando’s head spin, as he watches you leave, stalking out of the room. And Zak looks at Lando, jaw hanging loose. “Uh. I think… I think we need a five-minute break.” Zak mumbles, looking a bit disturbed, before leaving to go talk to you. Lando just stands there, feeling his anger fade as Oscar slowly approaches him. Andrea has gone after Zak.

"Mate," The omega's voice trembles, with shock or rage, he isn't entirely sure which one, "What the fuck?"

tags: @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @st0rmzi3

[demonlorddiva]

Obey me brothers with a sick mc!

I feel my Magnum opus for this page will be a full sickfic with the obey me brothers and maybe some others but for now, I have these hcs for ya. Enjoy!

Lucifer

Boy is STRESSED but trying to keep calm for you

At least his brothers promised to be good, be quiet, and not do any pranks while your not feeling well

If you try to hide your illness from him he will immediately call you out on it and make you go to bed

If you’ve seen kamisama kiss I think Lucifer would very much be like tomoe

Just straight up walking up behind you, feeling your forehead and ordering you to go to bed

He’s in charge of your medicine. He has an alarm set to his phone for the exact minute you need another dose

Will bring you into his room to keep a close eye on you, with the fireplace and Lucifer cuddling you there’s no need to worry about chills

Very worried if you don’t want to eat. Will practically beg you to have some broth at least

Wants to take your temperature and know exactly how your feeling and if it’s getting worse or not at all times

If it gets bad he will (begrudgingly) ask Solomon for help

Very good at giving comfort, will let you know everything is okay and that he will take care of you and you will be better in no time

Mammon

Bros panicking tbh

Thinks this is the end that your dying and you’ll never recover

Will use this as an excuse to stay home from school

“What do ya mean?? My humans sick they can’t be home alone!! They need the great mammon to take care of them!”

Read a fic once where mammon stays home with you when your sick, and he thinks this is an opportunity to hang out when you are legitimately Ill and just want to sleep and I find that so accurate sorry LMAO

“Your tired?? I wanted to watch a movie with ya! 😞”

But once he finds out your actually hurting and not feeling well he gets empathetic

If you need something he’s on the move trying to get it for you

You want some water? Well if asmos having a glass he will take it right out of his hands just so he can get it to you faster

Will only leave your room if he’s dragged out by someone else cause he needs to take care of himself or rest for a bit

Levi

Panicking x2

Thinks your dying at first and doesn’t want to come near with the fear of not knowing what to do if something goes wrong

But once you tell him you just want someone with you/ just some comfort all the romance animes he’s seen where the main character is sick he’s ON IT

Checks your temperature, gets you more blankets and pillows, the whole 9 yards 

Will order your favorite takeout/comfort food

If you don’t feel like leaving your room, he will play video games on his handheld in your bed till you fall asleep

If you want to go to his room, it’s already set up before you get there

His bathtub bed is stocked with the best blankets and all the plushies so your extra comfy

Will put on an easy to watch slice of life anime for you to watch while you relax

Room is STOCKED with all the essentials. Pain medication, chest rub, water, light snacks, all so you don’t have to get up and he doesn’t have to leave his room

I LOVE watching ppl play video games so I hc that he plays a single player game so you can watch

He’s CONSTANTLY messaging Lucifer every time you cough, sneeze, groan, to the point where he gets mad and comes and checks on you himself and tells Levi to calm down

Overall he’s very attentive and caring and you NEED to get better now!! He needs his player 2!

Satan

He’s got suspicions ever since the night before when you said your throat hurts

Keeps a watchful eye on you for the rest of the night, making you go to bed early

He’s read up on every single illness a human can get, this is his time to shine and take care of you!

If he gets his hands on your medication before Lucifer does, he’s in charge. No discussions. He will give it to you the moment you need it

If you have a fever, he’s there with a cold compress, having you drink water and saying the sweetest things while you work through it

He’s not worried, stop asking, he’s cool as a cucumber

He says as he opens every human world illness book he can find

Very comforting, will give you all the cuddles if you ask

Definitely reads to you till you fall asleep

Doesn’t want to leave when you do drift off, worried you’ll get worse

Makes you the best human world soup for you to eat with all the nutrients for you to get better

Asmo

Will be worried he will get sick too and ruin his beauty (sorry asmo stans, I am too but it’s a fact I’m sorry 😭)

At first he sends you encouraging messages and definitely checks up on you

But once Solomon lets him know he can’t get sick from you he’s all over you

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he has a nurses costume. And dressing the part is half of the job right?

He’s bubbly and bright, hoping to put a smile on your face

Feels your forehead and knows you have a fever and has no idea how to help

When you tell him you’ve taken medication already it makes him feel better

A full spa day is in order, he brings you to his room where the bath is already prepared with essential oils, salts, and different scents to warm you up and open your sinuses

If your okay with it (he will ask permission before walking in on you in the bath) he will wash and condition your hair, getting out all the knots in your hair from staying in bed for the past few days

He has one of his silk pajama sets for you to wear, cooking enough when you have a fever but covered enough so you don’t get a cold

Will put your head in his lap and massage your head, neck, and shoulders if you have any pain till you fall asleep

But if you fall asleep he *might* just sneak a couple selfies of you looking “so sleepy and SO adorable!”

Beel

Immediately worried

If he’s the first person to find out your sick, he picks you up, takes you to the common room, and says “mcs dying”

He’s never seen you so weak before and he’s just so worried and wants to get you help NOW

Will listen to anyone giving him instructions on what to get you or what to do

VERY comforting, it seems like he knows the exact times you need a cuddle or for someone to tell you it’s okay

You keep telling everyone your not hungry, that your in pain and you don’t want to eat, nothing sounds good

Then beel goes “what if I make you ___?”

His cooking just sounds better for some reason

Maybe it’s because you know if beel made it it’s tasty? Or maybe you know if he made it it’s made with love

Will feed you, no questions. He doesn’t want you wasting your energy feeding yourself

You’ll never be cold again cause he’s right there at all times with a hug

Belphegor

He knows humans, so when you have a cold he’s not worried (or so he says)

“Ew gross your sick? Wait no don’t kick me out I wanna cuddle”

He tries to remain chill so you relax as well

He’s always there, whenever you wake up from sleeping he’s there shushing you back to sleep

All the cuddles, all day long

But what you don’t know is that he’s not sleeping

He’s constantly messaging Solomon or Lucifer letting them know your condition

And constantly making sure your sleeping well and feeling okay

Forces all the brothers to get things you need

If they complain he will say that you are cold and he can’t leave cause you NEED him

When you get better he will ask for favors

“Come on i was so helpful when you were sick! You can do the dishes tonight right?”

Do one favor and tell him your done for your own sake

As I said I wanna get into making full fics and I have ideas I’m just nervous for no reason BUT I hope you like this and I hope you have a good day okay bye ✌️

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“So, are you just going to stare at my pretty face all day, or…?” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and rolled with their eyes. It was embarrassing enough, the hero didn’t have to rub it in.

“Is that such a crime?”

The villain let out a humourless huff. Their anger was evident, their frustration obvious.

And the pain, god, sometimes the villain couldn’t even breathe. Getting out of bed was already hard enough but being forced to work under these conditions?

Of course, it could have been worse. As part of their rehabilitation, they didn't need to do much, their work wasn't even that demanding.

But with their injuries, every move seemed to be unbearable.

“Just fuck off.”

“I have some documents to sign for you. My boss insists.” The hero fished a folder out of their bag and, unfortunately, they had indeed more documents. The villain found it quite unbelievable how much they had to sign. Although they knew it wasn't clever not to read over all of the pages carefully, they were too tired to do so.

They didn't really care that much either.

“Or better known as your excuse for visiting me,” the villain joked. Their side started to hurt again, a pain so cruel and prominent that they had to remind themselves to take everything slow.

It was actual hell. Not being able to do anything. Not being able to move freely. Although the doctor had assured them they were healing and doing well, the villain felt everything but fine. It had been over three weeks now and they were still waking up in the middle of the night. Pain robbed their sleep and pain robbed their mobility. They were impatient, they were annoyed.

The interrogation room was very familiar to the villain by now. Every week, they got to meet the hero. Either documents or lectures — whatever topic the hero chose, it was always a long conversation the villain’s body couldn’t manage towards the end.

However, they never said anything. The hero's visits were better than work. They were the best part of the entire week.

“I don’t need excuses to visit you,” the hero said, winking. They pushed the document towards the villain. “Sign here.”

The villain sighed. They didn’t even look at the paper.

“Can you ask them to increase my medication again at least?” the villain asked softly. They took in a deep breath and signed the document on the last page, their pen following their shaking hand's command as quickly as possible.

"I'm sorry, you're already on the highest dose possible."

"Oh." The villain put down the pen and stared at their nemesis. Their nemesis who had captured them. Who had put them in this situation in the first place. They seemed to be recovering just fine. They seemed to be fit and healthy, seemed to be in the prime of their life. Attractive and kind - perfection had carved itself through the hero. "...do you think the people here are honest? The nurses and the doctors, I mean?"

"Some of the best people in the country are working here," the hero said. "That includes medical staff."

"Okay." The villain's voice was quiet. They didn't understand the logistics behind a place like this, they didn't understand anything about the things the hero gave them to sign. "Did you know they're experimenting on me?"

"They take samples from your tissue or blood to look at in the lab. Seriously. You're not in any danger." The hero smiled sweetly and scratched the back of their neck. "I check the reports regularly and I talk to your doctor on a daily basis. It's their priority to help you."

"Why?"

"Well, you're a victim, are you not? We don't know much about the supervillain and their powers, so helping you recover could help us get more information on them. And considering your past, we have to...observe you in a special place like this." The hero leaned over the table to get to the document. Their fingertips touched the villain's knuckles by accident. "That's only one reason, of course. Most importantly, you were beaten to death and needed help."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Half your organs were hanging out of you when I found you," the hero said. Their voice was quieter now, maybe lost in their thoughts even. "I donated a kidney for you."

"You can be so romantic," the villain said. The sarcasm didn't really come across and the villain knew how half-hearted their jokes had become. It wasn't like they weren't grateful, it was just difficult to be saved and have a life when they had accepted their outcome a while ago. That day, they had accepted that they wouldn't survive. They had made their peace with it and then the hero had saved them.

And now, the villain had to live with this horrible pain.

With the nightmares and the fear. They had become a stranger in their own body. It didn't feel like they had control over themselves anymore. Although the hero was right, they couldn't help but feel like a lab rat.

"The point is...you're the only person who has survived them and if they find out you're alive..."

"A facility like this won't hold them back," the villain said. "It would be a minor inconvenience."

"I know, that's why-" the hero held up the document "-you just signed a request for special protection. With me being your caretaker."

Again, that sweet smile spread across their face but the villain didn't really know what that meant. Their poor heart skipped a few beats.

"Are you saying you'll be staying here?" The villain's neck started to heat up. Wasn't this a bit too much? Had they asked for too much? With the medication and the doctors...wasn't this too much effort for the hero to put in?

"I am saying you're coming with me if this gets approved. Which it will."

"Like, to your house?"

"Yes, darling." The hero leaned back in their chair and took in a deep breath. "I've been working on this ever since I found you. I knew the agency wouldn't let you recover in a prison that easily. I argued that you're a victim and a source of information. That brought you here. But still, they made you work in here which I argued to be counterproductive. The law department is pretty annoyed by me."

"I...I'm not sure what to say," the villain said. Their head was reeling. Maybe everything would be a little easier. Maybe waking up would be easier. Were they actually dreaming? They could be out of here soon?

"You don't have to say anything." The hero stood up and walked up to them. Once they were closer to the villain, they sat down on the table, looking down at them. "I just need you to rest."

"You didn't have to do this," the villain said. Their voice was shaking. "You didn't have to save me again."

"I can't help it. By the way, we have matching scars, did you notice that? I can't just leave you in here."

"You suck," the villain said, but there were tears in their eyes. The relief they felt was indescribable. This place was alright. The people were alright. But they weren't the hero. They weren't comforting. With their chair, they moved closer towards them. "You're so horrible."

They leaned their head against the hero's arm, too tired and overwhelmed to hold up the weight of their head anymore. Quickly, the hero went through their hair with their fingers, holding their jaw in their hands and guiding them to lay their head on their lap.

"Oh, honey..." They played with the villain's hair and scratched their scalp softly. Their fingers went over the villain's face, carefully avoiding their bruises. "I promise I will take care of you."

They stayed like this until visiting hours were over.

[in-som-niyah]

"Come on princess, don't be like that. Give Red what he deserves..."

You are Red Hood's relief. Nothing more. Nothing Less.

Your bedside alarm clock displayed an ungodly time in the morning.

It was a cold night in Gotham, your apartment filled with a chill accompanied by a familiar emptiness. It was just you, after all, and you didn't really have anyone over.

This changed, however, when a certain masked vigilante came to you for help when he was bleeding. Knowing you were a medical professional, he decided to swing by for a stitch or two. Who were you to deny him?

How could you refuse the six foot something, broad shouldered, panting, limping man barely making it across your living room?

You decided to indulge your curiosity, because let's be honest here: If he wanted you dead, he would have made it so a long time ago.

One night became two, then three, then a month and now a few times a week.

You were always welcoming him with a fresh roll of gauze and a chilled bottle of spirits for the pain, since he refused to take anything else.

But it was more than just medical attention. It was the way his chest heaved, back muscles flexed and forearms tightened when you hit a particularly tender spot. It made another certain tender spot on you wet.

Scandalously so.

You tried to hide it by wearing dark underwear and pants to bed, but it didn't help; he had you squirming and squeezing your thighs together in no time.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

He unknowingly infiltrated your senses, his scent of sweat and musky body wash making you dizzy, his vice grip on your bedsheets when you cleaned his wounds making your knees weak.

You wanted him.

You wanted him bad.

On this particular chilly Gotham night, you might just get what you want.

A loud pair of feet landed on the hardwoods near your windowsill. Heavy, irregular, yet determined footsteps proceed into your bedroom, where you've prepared your ensuite for a battered and bleeding Hood.

"Quickly, in here." you rasped having been torn from a restless sleep.

"I'm comin' sugar. Someone's eager to see me huh?" the familiar teasing tone of his voice modulator replied.

"You're only allowed to make jokes when you're not bleeding on my floor, Hood" you shot back, followed by a playful scoff and a silent eyeroll.

However, that eyeroll might not have been so silent.

As Red Hood approached the bathroom doorframe, he caught a glimpse of your feigned annoyance in the mirror.

He sat down with a thud on your toilet, exhaustion invading his bones.

You made quick, wordless work of his belt and jacket, revealing his toned exterior and the scars littering it. You never mentioned his scars, for fear of making him uncomfortable but more so because you couldn't bear the thought of someone hurting him so much that it left such a vicious mark.

"Sweet girls like you shouldn't roll their eyes, it's rude" he huffs between pained groans.

You briefly still your hand, look up at him and quirk your brow as if to challenge him. Then, you roll your eyes right in his face. You have no idea what prompted this pettiness, but your thoughts were hazy and disorganized as you looked back down to continue cleaning and stitching his wounds.

Red Hood chuckled darkly and sighed as he felt you get back to patching him up after your little stunt.

He lolls his head to the side, as if to emphasize his astonishment at your smart comeback. He didn't take you for a fiesty one.

"Really doll?" he prompts.

You say nothing and continue with your bandaging.

"Hey. Look at me." He tries again, this time with a gentler tone.

Still, you ignore him and repackage the unused gauze for another guaranteed visit from him in the future.

You go to get up, but his hand presses your shoulder down and you stop, entirely oblivious to his intentions.

Finally, your eyes meet his mask.

Red can tell you're both making eye contact, which lasts an unusually long time. You both bask in the absence of awkwardness as you indulge in this tender moment.

Slowly, you move closer to him and reach a hand up to caress his helmet. You know he can't feel it, but it feels intimate and personal nonetheless. It is only until your fingers roam lower, toward the base of his helmet and lift, that one of his hands flies up to stop your own.

"Nuh-uh babydoll, the mask stays on" he spits sharply.

The vigilante shifts in his seat, and it's only then do you realize the growing tent in his pants.

Your eyes flick back up to his helmet and it is only now, that you realize you weren't alone in your inappropriate arousal.

Hood maintains the eye contact and brings his hands to your hips, as if asking for permission before taking the plunge.

Carefully, you move your hands down his naked torso, noting how his sore muscles twitch at your light contact.

"Fuck baby-"

A hiss escapes his concealed mouth when your hands ghost over his bulge. You knew this was wrong. You knew he should be gone to wherever he should be by now. Were there people looking for him? For Christ's sake was he a criminal?

Too many questions for a mind too far gone. You weren't thinking anything beyond how sticky the bottom of your panties had become, how puffy your lips had become from constant chewing, and the cool air ghosting over your sensitive nipples.

There's no going back.

While looking at him for confirmation, you begin to unzip his fly, then massage his length from his boxers instead.

A drawn out, desperate moan is exaggerated by his modulator as hood grinds his hips into your hand involuntarily.

"Don't tease me darling, you know what I want" he orders.

Normally, you would have slapped anyone that told you what to do, but here, it only made your sopping cunt beg for relief.

Mesmerized by his boldness and not wanting to keep him waiting, you pull him out of his boxers and kiss the tip. You're met with another whine and roll of his hips.

You begin to stroke him a few times, working him up just to give him his relief.

Just as he was about to speak again, you swallowed him from tip to hilt, making his words die on his tongue.

His body tensed and relaxed with every moan and heave as you began to bob your head up and down, taking him in full each time.

His hand flew in your braided ponytail to guide your head down his shaft the way he liked it, your tongue licking at his balls every time you went down.

"Shit- Want you to touch yourself pretty thing. Show me how those dainty fingers make you feel good"

Warmth shot straight to your core at that, but you were embarrassed to pull down your shorts and panties, and show him just how bad you wanted this.

You hesitated for a moment and pulled off his length. Stroking him with one hand and licking stripes up his shaft with your tongue, you managed to smile sheepishly in a weak attempt to refuse.

Though the heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your potential embarrassment was stronger.

Red Hood cocks his head and tuts in disproval.

"Come on princess, don't be like that. Give Red what he deserves..."

You looked up at him with glassy and desperate eyes, as if to ask if he really wanted to.

The strong hand in your braids comes down to cup your cheek and rub at the side of your mouth.

"Don't keep me waiting pretty girl, I ain't asking a third time" he rasps sternly. You knew better than to disobey.

Slowly, your removed your hands, earning a groan from him. You stood up and hooked your thumbs in between your panties and supple skin and began to pull down.

Embarrassment still clear on your features, the vigilante outstretched his hands and placed them on your plush hips, rubbing circles in your skin.

This silent encouragement prompted you to continue, until you felt the cool air brush against your exposed, puffy clit.

"So pretty" Red mumbles under his breath as the hands on your hips apply gentle pressure to get you back on your knees.

This is his turn to stand up, doing so with his angry red and leaking cock in his hand.

He held it out in silent offering to you, which you took gratefully, and resumed your earlier routine.

Subconsciously, your hand made its way down to your core and your fingers found purpose in rubbing tight circles on your clit. You moaned on his length at the contact, eliciting a pleasurable hiss from him.

You could tell his eyes were trained on the target between your legs even from behind the mask.

"That's it sugar...make yourself feel good for me...good fucking girl"

Your eyes rolled again at that as you increased your pace and suction. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Though you would have no way of knowing, Red was a true gentleman despite his nighttime activities. As a gentleman, he wanted you to cum before him.

"Faster pretty girl, come on, you can do that for me fuck-"

You gave a small nod and increased the speed between your legs. You began to focus on the feeling of your fingertips sending sparks throughout your body, but you weren't close enough.

As if a psychic, he pulled himself from your mouth and sat back down. Confused, the hand between your legs stilled, and your face beginning to pout.

Before you could protest his hands again found your hips and pulled them toward him. Your hands moved to find the back of his neck as the hooded man pulled you onto him to straddle his lap.

When his hands retreated, you whined in frustration at the lack of contact.

"Shhh pretty baby you'll get it" he cooed.

You began to rock your hips against him impatiently, but his strong hands stopped your movement. Before you could complain, his right thumb began to press circles into your core with full intent of making you cum.

"Ah-ah Red please-" you cried out, unable to take the sudden pressure and pleasure at the same time. You gripped his wrist, a weak attempt to get him to slow down.

"You can take it, yes you can princess" he replies. The cheeky bastard knows just how to make your pussy throb.

"Fuck- I'm gonna-... pleasepleaseplease" you blabber desperately nearing your peak. The pressure in your tummy growing and tightening, just waiting to snap.

The Red Hood pressed his shielded forehead to yours and whispered in a deep, modulated voice.

"'M right here pretty girl, cum for me. I know you need to. Let go."

The coil snapped with ferocity and left you screaming his name. Surely the old woman next door wouldn't appreciate it, but you didn't care. Not while he was here, making you forget about the world.

You gushed on his fingers, and he took this opportunity to pump himself to completion with your juices smeared over his shaft. He came with a low grunt and short pants.

After you came down from your high, you slowly and carefully eased yourself off of him, minding his bruises and sore muscles which he appreciated.

It was still ungodly early, your eyes beginning to close with sleep as you washed your hands in the sink.

He will never admit to you that he's never been more in love with you.

Instead, he stuffs himself back into his pants and brings you back to your bed.

Once you're situated under your duvet, you reach for his hand and weakly grasp his fingers.

"Stay?" You slur, barely holding onto your awake state.

He chuckles fondly, and you can almost see a blush under his helmet.

"Maybe another time doll."

[that-basic-simp]

Take Care of You

Mizu x Fem!Reader CW: Blood WC: 1.2k+

"Mizu," I trailed after her, blood seeping out from her wounds and onto the perfect white snow, staining it.

"Mizu," I said louder. "Mizu!"

"I hear you!" she whipped around, her breathing ragged and heavy.

Blood was coming out of multiple wounds on her stomach and shoulders. Some was even dripping down her face and some coming from her mouth.

"Why are you still following me?" she rasped.

"Who else is going to help you with your injuries?"

"I don't need to be helped," she spat onto the ground, blood staining the ground once more. "And I certainly don't need it from you."

I stepped back, a pained expression on my face.

"But, Mizu, we're--"

"I don't care what I am to you. I never should have let you come with me in the first place. You're just dead weight. And dead weight gets left behind."

She turned around, leaning against her sword, that had her training weight as extenders. It acted as the naginata from her previous fight between the thousand claw army. But that fight didn't matter now. She was in need of medical attention and she was being too stubborn to let me help. I let out a sigh and continued to follow her. Knowing her body, she was ignoring the signs of rest. So I was just going to let her body give out before her revengeful spirit does. It didn't last long as we walked for about another hundred feet before her body collapsed onto the snow. Breathing out another sigh, I bent down and hoisted her up, letting her lean against me.

"I got you, Mizu."

Walking towards a nearby shrine, once we reached it, I set her down on the ground and got the fire going, making medicine for her. Once that was going, I dragged her over to the fire and laid her down.

"Y-Y/N," Mizu lazily blinked her eyes open.

"Yes, Mizu?"

"I-I'm sorry," she breathed out.

"Save it for when you're not losing blood. And when you can form a cohesive thought."

"I-I really am, though."

I shook my head, "Go to sleep, Mizu."

Her head fell against the wooden floor and her breathing started to become shallow and then heavy. I removed her blue haori from her upper half and started stitching the wounds. Once they were tightly stitched together, I washed the blood from her body and from the haori. I even stitched it up because I know she won't wear anything else other than this. Putting it back on her, I sat by the fire as it warmed the broth and vegetables.

Sweat rolled down her forehead as she thrashed here and there throughout the night. I know I should have gone to sleep, but if she wasn't able to fight if someone came after us, I at least had to protect her and myself. I don't know how I was going to, but I was going to find a way. The early morning sun rose and Mizu was still knocked out cold. She had a fever. This wasn't good. Grabbing a small bowl, I poured some of the broth into it and lifted her head up.

"Mizu," I whispered. "Mizu."

Her eyes blinked open, barely. Finding my eyes, I raised the bowl to her eye level.

"Medicine. You need to drink this."

She nodded, opening her mouth slightly. Resting the lip of the bowl onto hers, I slowly poured it into her mouth and soon, the broth was drained. I carefully laid her back down and sat watch for a few more days until Mizu was able to open her eyes without falling back asleep. Sitting up, she let out a groan and turned to face me.

"H-How long was I out?"

"A few days."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"Who was going to take care of you and watch for enemies."

"Get some rest, Y/N."

"Are you going to be ok if someone tries to ambush us?"

"If they haven't ambushed us when I was knocked out cold, they're not going to."

"I just want to make sure."

"Yes, I should be ok to defend us."

"Ok."

I laid down by the fire and got some much needed sleep. I woke up a couple of days later and found Mizu to be training outside with her sword. Walking outside, I stood by the stairs of the shrine, watching her.

"Make sure not to open your stitches," I called out to her.

She didn't listen. She moved too harshly and blood started to seep out and stain her blue haori. She stopped, placing a hand over her stitches.

"Fucking," I breathed out, growling slightly. "Mizu!"

She turned, a fearful look in her eyes.

"Get in here."

She hurried up the stairs and sat down by the fire. Kneeling beside her, I removed her haori and started to restitch her wounds again.

"I-I can't thank you eno--"

I cut her off by punching her in the face. She let out a groan as her hands covered her mouth and nose, some blood dripping from either one of them.

"I-I deserved that," she said in a muffled tone.

I slapped her across the face, too.

"A-And that."

"What the hell, Mizu?!"

She let out a sigh, removing her hands to reveal that I had gotten her in the mouth. Blood was dripping from the front of her teeth and it was pretty bad, too. It probably wasn't going to stop for a little while.

"I-I'm sorry," she breathed out.

"What you said hurt, Mizu."

"I know," she looked away from me. "I-I didn't mean for it to. I was just disoriented from the blood loss."

I let out a sigh. I couldn't stay mad at her.

"You're lucky I love you. And that I wouldn't hesitate to take care of you."

A soft smile emerged as she turned to face me. It didn't help that blood was staining her lips like a prostitute's make up. Her hand slowly reached for mine, her fingers brushing on top of mine.

"I love you, too," she whispered. "I-I'm really sorry about what I said. I-I don't know where I would be without you. Probably dead."

"Very much so dead," I said in a deadpan tone.

It caused her to chuckle, a rare smile I have only ever seen.

"I'm glad you followed me. And you don't listen to me when I am mean or hurtful to you."

"You were like that the first time we met. Mean and hurtful, but the minute I complimented your eyes, your cold, harsh heart finally melted slightly."

"I think you're the only person I am warm towards."

"And you're the only person that brings out that side of me," I pointed to her still bleeding mouth.

"Yeah. You really got me there."

"I know how to help it."

"How?" she asked as I leaned towards her.

Placing my hands on her cheeks, I pulled her towards me and placed my lips against hers. I didn't care about the iron taste that was on her lips. Or how it would soon overwhelm my taste buds as I began to slowly make out with her.

"Y-Y/N," Mizu said in between the kiss, trying to pull away.

I just pulled her in for another. After a bit, I pulled away and there was blood on my lips. Mizu shook her head, a look of awe in her eyes.

"What would I do without you?"

"You'd die," I chuckled.

She nodded her head, "That I would."

I leaned towards her once more, pressing my forehead against hers.

"Thank you, my ember."

"You're welcome, my water lily."

[devildomwriter]

Our Greatest Hope | Obey Me Short Story

1.4K | GN! AFAB! Reader x Diavolo | CW: Mentions of parenting, labor, aging, faith, slight angst

There has never been a being like your son. Half human, half demon, with angel blood. What will he become? Can you lead a child with such power and influence down the right path, will he be like his father or will his human side make him vulnerable?

“I’ll never let harm come to you. The world will be yours my dearest son. You are our greatest hope. Surely a child born of three worlds will be the one to unite them.” The promise left Diavolo’s lips as he held your pregnant stomach, head resting against it.

True to his word, your son would have everything he could ever need.

At first, it was scary. Diavolo’s mother had died giving birth, even with all their magic and advanced technology, giving birth was still dangerous. The one who gave birth to the devil’s son would always come across some misfortune during pregnancy or labor, whether it be constant nausea or intense labor pain. You and Diavolo knew this and though he was more hesitant than you, you decided to bear his child.

Would his Human side hinder him or help him? Would he age just as quickly as a human, and die just as easily? Would his wings and horns be pronounced? Would the Devildom accept a Cambion with angel blood as their true leader?

So many worries plagued your mind but the instant you first saw your son, your worries melted and were replaced with love. Your son was different from the beginning. He did not cry or laugh when he was born, he was silent and his tiny squinting golden eyes were observant of everything.

Diavolo cradled both you and your son during your duration in the Demon Lord Castle’s medical wing. After a few weeks of observation you could return to your room with Diavolo and your child stayed in his crib near your side.

He was still quiet. He never cried in the middle of the night but sometimes when you went to check on him he’d be awake. Bright eyes looked around the room before locking onto you and reaching out his hands.

His silence worried you and Diavolo at first but after a while, he began trying to mimic your words and eventually, he learned to call for you through infantile shouts rather than crying.

After a few months, he cried for the first time. His horns were coming in. Unlike his father whose horns grew from the sides of his skull, his horns protruded from the top of his forehead and grew upwards, slightly arched back.

By a year his wings took form. He only had one pair, they were larger and black with a slight red coloring like his father’s. By a year and a half, he looked like a true demon. Appearing human and hiding his wings and horns was too much to ask of a small child so you hid them with magic whenever you visited the human world, friends, and family.

When he was two years old he became a big brother and his sister was nothing at all like him. She was loud, fussy, and demanded attention, and when she wanted something she cried, she could fake her tears after a few weeks.

Your son did not understand this behavior, he was confused and you often found him in his bed with a pillow over his head. He had the senses of a demon, so it was inevitable he’d hear his sister cry. You did not get much sleep during this time nor did your husband, Diavolo.

As soon as your son could crawl he was trying to follow his father to work. If Diavolo stopped walking, so did your son. He was his father’s shadow before he even knew this was his duty.

When he was old enough to understand Diavolo had a private talk with your son, explaining what was expected of him as the prince. Although he did not quite understand the gravity, your son knew he was important and that he needed to be like his dad. Thus, he became even more of Diavolo’s shadow.

His sister however did not follow in his footsteps, for this reason even though he was barely more than a toddler he became his sister’s keeper, and eventually his brothers’ too.

In a way, he saw his siblings as practice. He needed to be a good example and a good leader, but he was still a child. Even though he’d always been mature for his age, it was still easy to give into temptation and his sister was an excellent demon, convincing him to wait up for Santa, to sneak snacks from the kitchen, to stay up late, and more.

In some ways, it was a relief to see him act like a child but Barbatos became worried and attended to your son’s younger siblings more so that Diavolo could focus on bringing up his son.

Diavolo was an anxious mess during his son’s formative years. Was he doing this right? He didn’t have a father to turn to. He wasn’t sure if his father was so strict with him for his own sake or if he was resentful his wife had died to birth him. Was he supposed to be very strict with his son? He didn’t want to be neglectful but his son needed to grow on his own too. There were so many contradicting points when it came to being a good parent and a good king.

Your son was sometimes confused too. He knew his dad didn’t like to scold him but he knew his dad was worried he wasn’t doing things right.

Your son had been perceptive from the moment he was born. He knew more than you and Diavolo could have imagined and the older he became the more you understood this.

You never saw him study Latin but he knew the language fluently, you never told him about the brothers’ history but he knew it as well as you, there were so many things you discovered about him every day and as you did so he was learning something else.

You would never forget the horrified expression on your young son when his father showed him the most critical part of their job—to judge and punish souls. Why did a dog killer go to heaven and an orphanage director go to hell? Because of faith? Why was this fair? He was meant to be the opposing side to the person who created everything. He was at a disadvantage from the start. He was meant to be evil and govern all forms of it but your son was nothing like that.

He did not embody evil, he did not embrace evil, and he did love a prank or two but he never started them. He wasn’t chaotic like his father. Like his father he was considerate but like you, he was so very human.

Indeed the son of the demon king and the future ruler of hell had a human heart and a loving soul. A soul so pure he could ascend to the Celestial Realm. As happy as you were your son was a good person and yours and Diavolo’s parenting had shaped a humble prince and not an arrogant one, only time would tell if this human heart was fit to rule hell.

Thanks to your magic and your vows with Diavolo, you lived a very long time. Thousands upon thousands of years and Earth ended and began anew many times. Each time you, Diavolo, and your son worked hard to bring this new generation of humans to peace with your realm. It worked every time but as Revelations determined, evil rose and a faction of demon rebels would invade the earth. The angels and two humans would defeat them and the bridges would slowly be mended again and again.

Your son disliked this even more than Diavolo. He was done with human suffering, with demons being the blame, and with angels blaming all demons when only a few were responsible.

Thousands of years later when your son took the crown he would be the shining example of peace between the realms. A demon king with the blood of the three worlds, with him, his trusted siblings, leader of the Celestial Realm Seraphim Luke, and the many angels and sorcerers he’d befriended, one day the worlds would see eternal peace.

Those words his father spoke to him as he was still within your womb stayed with him long after you and Diavolo ascended to the Celestial Realm, “You are our greatest hope. Surely a child born of three worlds will be the one to unite them.”

Now nearly a million years old, your son looked at the portrait of you and Diavolo and smiled to himself as he held his own son in his arms. “You did well, you may rest now.” He said softly. His wife came up behind him, his young daughter squirming in her arms.

“Your sisters and brothers are here,” she let him know and he nodded. His daughter sprang free from her mother and clung to his leg. He smiled and held both her and his son as he descended the palace stairs to meet his family.

[mydadleft471]

Stubborn

Summary: Messmer hurt his ankle and is confined to his bed for a week. His thoughts spiral when you, his darling husband, take care of him.

Spoilers for Elden Ring and SOTE. No warnings, just some fluff and Messmer's serpents being as needy as he is lmao.

This was a request from anonymous! I'll link the post with all their wonderful prompts here. Thank you for requesting and I hope I did you justice, hubby-anon!

As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! It never fails to make my day better! Enjoy! <3

Messmer had never been so humiliated yet happy in his whole life.

He blames his serpents for his misfortune. Instead of helping Messmer watch where he’s going, they were looking at you, per usual. He can’t necessarily blame them, you did look stunning. He had just gifted you a red cloak almost identical to his with his insignia on it, and you looked stunning in red. His husband, his beloved consort, was wearing his color and his insignia proudly. He couldn’t take his eye off of you either.

Unfortunately, that meant he was half-blind, and he stumbled over a table like a lovesick fool and sprained his ankle.

If it weren’t for your love and care, he believes he would’ve died right there from mortification. 

When you heard him fall, you rushed over to him immediately and tried to help him stand, which led to Messmer hissing out in pain when he put pressure on his right foot. You had thrown caution to the wind and told him to hold on, and suddenly, he was being hoisted into the air by his husband, who was much smaller than him. You didn’t know Messmer’s face could get so red. It would’ve been funny to you had your Lord not been injured. You carried him to your shared bed and immediately began poking and prodding, but you could tell he needed someone well-versed in healing.

After summoning one of his medics, you had (thankfully) made up a story about how you two were sparring and you knocked him off balance, causing him to twist his ankle uncomfortably. He was silently thanking whatever greater power gave him his husband in that moment.

His medic instructed Messmer to stay off his foot for a week at the very least and bound it tightly in wrappings to ensure everything would heal right. You jokingly told him that at least it wasn’t you who got hurt, as demigods heal much faster than humans. You would’ve been confined to your bed for a month, perhaps longer. He merely shook his head at that. He hated reminders of how frail you could be compared to him.

A few days had passed since he had initially hurt himself, and he was getting restless. You’d bring him books to keep his mind occupied or talk with him for hours. Your company was a welcome luxury during his time stuck in bed. But at night, sleep would evade him. He’d look down at your smaller frame curled into him, resting peacefully, and wonder. Though he loved your thorough attention and care, he grew uncomfortable being so indebted to you, more so than he already was. He knew he’d never be able to repay your kindness, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try. It was during times like these where he’d endlessly take and take that he wondered why his darling husband had married him in the first place.

These thoughts had followed him well-after the sun came up. Perhaps you knew of them, as you always did. He found he could hide little from his perceptive consort.

“Hey,” you began, smoothing down a few strands of hair. “You’re much more handsome when you smile.”

His frown doesn’t budge.

As if infectious, a frown spreads onto your face. Messmer wants to kiss it away, but feels too horrendous to do so. “Do you need anything? Or are you in pain?” Your eyes widen in worry.

“I wish to get up.”

You place a hand on his chest, firm yet gentle. “It hasn’t been a week yet. I’m not letting you get up.”

“Have you any idea how humiliating it is to be carried around like a child?” His voice holds an edge to it and you flinch.

“You carry me around all the time and don’t seem to have an issue with it.”

“There’s a difference. I should be the one caring for thee. I should not be lying here, useless.”

“You’re injured, my love. Rest is necessary for you to heal. And I don’t mind caring for you at all.”

“Thou hast given so much for me. I wonder when I will cease to take from thee.” He doesn’t look at you, too ashamed.

“Husband, I made an oath to care for you when we married. We both did.” You sit down on the bed beside him. “This relationship isn’t one-sided, if that’s what you’re worried about. You do plenty for me.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for starters, you’ve given me a home. I’m safe, fed, and comfortable here. I have you, the love of my life, who makes me happy each and every day. Do you need me to keep going?”

He looks at you, his eye shimmering. The love of your life?

“No. I am terrified to take too much, to tip the scales too much towards myself, and lose thee altogether.” He admits in a shaky voice.

You cup his cheek and look at him with nothing but love in your eyes. “That will never happen, Messmer. I promise you.”

“I apologize for my endless anxieties.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” You give him a small kiss on his lips and he sighs. Smiling, you begin to move the covers off of Messmer.

“I’m going to check your ankle, okay?”

He nods at you.

Carefully, you move his leg so his ankle is dangling off the bed. Kneeling on the floor, you inspect his wrappings. They remain tight and you notice his foot isn’t swollen or splotched with bruising. You gently run your fingers over his skin and look at Messmer for any signs of pain. You see none, so you continue and unwrap his ankle. The bandages fall to the floor and you press your fingers into his muscles and tendons tenderly.

“Any pain?” You shoot him a worried glance.

“None, beloved.” He grins at you.

You continue to press along his foot, but there’s no sign of damage or pain. Messmer experimentally rolls his ankle around and you’re relieved to see that he can do so easily. He moves to put his foot on the floor as if to stand, but you stop him.

“Not until your medic clears you to walk.” He rolls his eye at you. One of his serpents nips at his ear and he swats at it.

“Bothersome pest. I shalt ne’er see the day in which they take my side.”

You chuckle and stand up. “Stay in bed. I’m going to fetch the medic.” 

You swiftly exit the room and begin descending the stairs. Guards bowed their heads and greeted you as you passed, and you gave them a curt nod and continued. Passing a few shades and scholars in the Keep, you wound the corner and knocked on the medic’s door. She opened the door and curtsied.

“Does Lord Messmer require me?”

You nod. “His ankle looks much better. There’s very little bruising and he can move it without pain.”

“And he is still wanting to get up and walk on his own?”

You lay a hand on your face and shake your head. “You have no idea.” She laughs. The servants of the Shadow Keep always found you easier to talk to than Messmer. He was kind and gentle, but they couldn’t see past his tall and intimidating facade. You, on the other hand, were the beloved consort who went out of their way to make others’ lives better, and for that, you were respected.

“I suppose I should go see him then.” She walks back into her room to grab her bag, tossing a few things inside, then closing it and rejoining you in the hallway.

“I don’t want you to tell him he can walk because he’s pouty.” You say as you walk together.

“Oh, never, my Lord. I am sure you’ll keep him in line, just as you always do.” She smiles at you.

“Of course. Someone has to.”

You reach your room and enter, half-expecting to see Messmer out of bed and walking around, but he has stuck to his word. He remains just as you left him, his serpents perched on his shoulder awaiting your return.

The medic bows. “Good morning, Lord Messmer. How are you feeling?”

“As my consort surely informed thee, I am in no pain.”

“I am glad to hear that. Allow me to ensure you are okay to walk.” Messmer nods his head and she walks over to him, kneeling to inspect his ankle.

You watch from the other side of the bed. Messmer looks unfazed as she touches his ankle. She moves his foot from side-to-side and prods at the skin. His serpents slither across the sheets and you pet them. They nuzzle into your touch and flick their tongues happily. Messmer shakes his head at their incessant need for attention.

The medic stands, grabbing her bag. “You seem to be fully healed, my Lord. You may walk, but try to limit yourself for another day or two.” She looks over at you. “And please, no sparring.”

“Thank you. I’ll make sure he listens.” Messmer shoots you a look.

She curtsies once more and you lead her to the door. The serpents try to coil around your arm to prevent you from leaving, but you slip out of their grasp and promise to return.

“As always, please let me know if you need my assistance.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

“If he sprains his ankle again, though, I might forbid him from walking altogether.” You both laugh. “Farewell, my Lord.”

She exits and closes the door behind her. You walk back over to the bed where the serpents are, unsurprisingly, waiting for you. They hiss in greeting as if they didn’t just see you.

“Needy things. Not unlike your master.” You smirk.

“Wilt thou help me stand?” He says, ignoring your comment.

You nod and make your way over to his side of the bed. You wrap his arm around your neck and slowly lift him. He gingerly places his foot on the ground and slowly applies more pressure to it.

“How do you feel?” You look up at him.

“Unsteady from not walking in days, but no pain, beloved.”

“Do you think you can walk around the room a few times?”

“I believe so.”

He begins to take a shaky step forward and you ensure he doesn’t fall or lose his balance. He leans on you as he begins to walk around the room. The first pass is a little sloppy and takes a few minutes, but you’re glad he’s pacing himself. The second time is easier, and by the third time you go around the room, he’s removed almost all his weight from you, but still holds onto you just in case. He looks happy.

You deposit him back onto the bed and hug him. He wraps his long arms around you and noses into your hair.

“Whatever is this for, husband?”

“Am I not allowed to hug you?” You tease.

“What a ridiculous notion.”

“I’m just happy you’re okay, is all.”

His heart flutters in his chest and he holds you tighter. His spiraling thoughts are quiet and the only thing he can think about is you. Your body pressed against his, your soft breathing, and the earthy smell of your hair. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve someone so caring and patient, but he will not take you for granted.

“I love thee, husband.” His voice is soft and tender, almost a whisper,

“And I you. Please don’t ever forget that.” You say into his chest.

“Thou wilt not allow me to with how thee cares for me.”

“Good.”

[lbxbx]

Accidentally Yours 2 | JJK

Pair: Jungkook x reader

Summary: revenge never tasted that good when you decide to get back at the man - who ran you over - with the worst punishment he could ever get, and despite all the grudge, maybe some time after, the grudge will gradually turn into something else..?

Genre: e2l, biker jk, series ( a long one.), smut, fluff, angst.

Chapter Warnings: truly cranky oc, douche jk, heavily medicated oc, mentions of sugar babies.

Taglist: @binniesbabe @ennvf

Mood board 1 | Mood board 2

You were informed that by 8 in the morning you’ll be discharged and ready to go home, there wasn’t any need for you to stay for the rest of the day but they just wanted to make sure that your lab tests and other scans are perfectly fine. Natty was an awfully great help but still you wouldn’t tire her with things you could ask Jungkook to do.

“This is your prescription of meds, buy it so you can drive me home.” You hand it to him along with your card, of course you won’t let him pay for it.

He’s hesitant when he grabs the paper and card, feeling a little uneasy that he’s kind of forced to do this, he absolutely regrets getting his bike in the first place, you’re like a nightmare to him.

“Alright.” He leaves the room which leaves Natty piercing his entire figure. “Aren’t you exaggerating this?”

“It wasn’t my idea to begin with, plus he doesn’t have another option, i could so easily just file a lawsuit and he’ll spend at least a year rotting in jail.”

Nat helps you rise before dressing you in the easiest thing you could fit in right now, nothing too extra just a dress with a heavy jacket over it, even if it was freezing cold outside, you wouldn’t risk putting on a pair of pants or leggings.

“Thank you.” You take a second to breathe, you’re still not 1 day post your injury so you’re still not used to being this immobilized, you were sleeping the entire night and the medication they gave you made the pain a little manageable, but right now the pain feels intense and the muscles around your injury are very stiff considering the entire area is swollen.

“Are you okay?” Nat rubs your back, you nod and force a smile, even when you feel a little frustrated and anxious, getting up from bed was always easy but right now it’s a little overwhelming. “I’m alright. Did you get my car?”

“Mhm, it’s parked near the gate so that you don’t have to get rolled in the chair for long.”

Her words felt extremely heavy, you find it hard to accept that you’re going to be have to rolled on a wheelchair.

Gosh, if anything this makes you resent Jungkook even more.

“Are you ready?” Nat asks before supporting your lower half and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Yes, slow please.” You manage to get up and balance on one leg, your injured leg brushes against the floor and you feel as if there’s an electric jolt shocking your entire body which makes you curse on the inside.

Nat helps you turn and sit on the wheelchair before adjusting your leg ever so slowly so you’re comfortable which you know you won’t be for at least the next few months.

You hear a couple knocks on the door and it’s another wave of anger possessing you when you see Jungkook carrying the bag of meds and chewing on a pretzel loud. “Here’s your meds.”

“You.” You breathe again fighting every ounce of anger inside of you, if you could walk you could easily beat his ass up.

He pauses and hardly swallows the bite in his mouth when he sees the look on your face, luckily Natty stands between you two and grabs the bag of meds away from him. “Did you get everything? Shit y/n that’s a whole lot of meds.”

The bag contained at least eight kinds of pills, regular OTC painkillers and other ones that are only used on prescription, two kinds of antibiotics, a muscle relaxant, calcium pills and vitamins. and other drugs that you’ll need along your healing process.

“Let’s just go home.” You clench your jaw and take one quick look at your surroundings, making sure you haven’t left anything behind.

Once you get to the ground floor, you can’t pinpoint what exactly you’re feeling, but it’s a hint of embarrassment combined with so many things, you hardly needed assistance over anything and now you’re being pushed on a wheelchair? You hated being vulnerable.

Jungkook on the other hand watches Natty unlock your car and wonders do you actually own two cars? This one being far more luxurious than the one he saw you riding last night. His jaw drops when Nat opens the car door and he checks out the leather interior.

“One step at a time, ready?” Natty grabs your arm. “Jeon? A little help?”

“Oh — shit yeah, sure.” He takes a step closer and in one quick swift he effortlessly carries you into his arms and puts you into the passenger seat, your leg brushes against the middle console and the jolts of lightning strikes again making you almost curse out loud. “You dumb fu—“

“I didn’t mean to i’m sorry.” He practically didn’t, he was a little too distracted with your car. Natty buckles you in and hands Jungkook the keys. “You drive.”

Jungkook feels overwhelmed and surreal, is he actually going to drive this car? It feels Exhilarating just the idea of him getting behind the steering wheel, “You do have a driver’s license right? Like for cars?” You interrupt, “i don’t want you running someone else over with my car.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and shuts the door to your side and gets into the car, his breath hitches when he turns on the vehicle and his hands finally land on the steering wheel. “So are you secretly rich or what?” He asks shamelessly, whatever went through his brain he just blurted it out. Natty almost chokes on her own spit when she stares at Jungkook. “Just shut up and drive.” At this point you’re exhausted and you miss home, and honestly as soon as he takes the last turn leading to your building it evoked so many feelings inside you.

You were never hospitalized for any reason, and this entire thing that happened last night was really traumatic to you, the stay at the hospital was really stressing and what’s stressing you more is the unstoppable pain that you know you’re not going to have any medical supervision around you to make it easier, and honestly Natty can’t stay here the entire time and of course you can’t trust the man sitting next to you right now.

Considering Jungkook knows where you live he parks right at the entrance of the building and you are welcomed with the gate keeper and his wife holding a gigantic bouquet of flowers. “Welcome back Miss y/l/n. We hope you get well soon.” They rush towards the car and even grab a hold of your hand to rub it. “We’re truly sad about what happened, did you send the guy to jail?”

You side eye Jungkook before forcing a smile to the guards. “I may.”

“Let us help you out—“

“No, don’t mind it really, just get the elevator please.” You gather enough courage to try and move but your leg hurts non stop and you need to take anything to kill the pain like right away.

“Natty lock the car and Jungkook?”

“Yeah?” He’s still distracted running his hands over the buttons of your car

“A little help.”

“Of course.”

-

Day one was a burning hell, not only you were in scorching pain, and it wasn’t only your leg hurting, it was radiating all over your entire body, you were prescribed medicine to numb the pain and it did help, except you were drowsy all the time. If you were on the couch you’d find yourself drifting to sleep, and no matter how hard you try to fight the sleep, you felt your eyelids closing, and your head heavy, your body craved sleep for hours and at this point it doesn’t matter if you’ve eaten anything or not, hence your trips to the bathroom have decreased significantly, so you’re either on the couch sleeping, or in your bedroom, sleeping also.

As for the intruder who you’re trying to make the most out of, he’s at your place most of the time and you still can’t judge if he’s helpful at all or not, and it still doesn’t feel like revenge and when your pain sharpens you feel the urge to break his leg too and finish him. You want to be angry and sometimes you wanna use your voice and be loud but you physically can’t.

Him on the other side, he’s lurking around your place when he shows up, finally finding out that you were in fact filthy rich, every inch in his body is itching with curiosity wanting to know what on earth do you do for a living.

Tonight you were sitting in your living room in front of the fire place, your mental and physical well being is not doing so well tonight, nausea hits again along with pain, this time you know you can’t hold back the vomit. Even your cat Coco is alert and she’s hovering around you.

Not to mention the minute Jungkook walked inside your house she was hissing at him non stop, almost as if she knew how much you resented the man.

Jungkook’s holding the bag of meds looking through the pills with slight panic. “Didn’t they give you anything for nausea?” He’s about to lose his mind and he gets really iffy and hates hearing anyone hurl or vomit. “What do i do?”

“I don’t know perhaps watch the road?” You bite at him and karma bites you right back and you gag, he quickly thinks before emptying the meds out of the bag and hands it to you.

Nothing managed to escape your stomach because there wasn’t anything there to begin with. “Shouldn’t you call your friend?”

“And what are you here for? “ you gag again and cough,

“She could be a better help than I am.”

You pull out a tissue and clean your mouth before falling back against the couch. “I fucking hate you.”

Coco jumps right onto your belly and crawls next to your head, her paw landing onto your hair, you hold her closer and rub her back, “I’m alright Coco don’t worry.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and disgustingly holds the bag to throw it into the bin. “I think you should get something to eat.” He suggests before mumbling to himself. “And take your meds and get back to sleep.”

“What did you say?” You were skeptical and you thought you heard him say something

“I said you should get something to eat.” He looks you dead in the eye before pointing to his own ear. “Listen.” He enunciates.

Honestly one look at the man and you’re genuinely cringing, his general attire is all baggy and dark, his hair is either frizzy and curled up or covered in a beanie that you’re assuming it stinks. Thankfully he didn’t get really close so you can smell him, and now you’re not the one to judge, you’re day two without washing up and you desperately need a shower.

“Your friend got you a pot of soup this morning while you’re sleeping.” He mentions before taking a quick glance around. “Don’t be mad but i kinda had two bowls because it smelled incredible—“

You

Were

Cranky!

You were never mad over food but he’s pushing all your buttons at this moment, everything about him is making your insides boil even more than before. And now the soup that was brought home for you is two bowls less than it actually is.

Okay, breathe, you need to breathe.

The angrier you get the more your pain feels worse. “You did what?”

“I had some of your… soup?” He unsurely speaks. “Oh so i guess you’re mad.”

Your eyes scan the room quickly before they land on your crutches that are way across the room leaned against the wall, if you could walk you would’ve shoved them right up his—

“I’ll go get you some.” He rushes and the moment he’s out of your sights you immediately feel yourself calming down, you kind of wish you just put him into jail or something instead of having him right there in front of you almost the entire time.

Fuck your pain is getting worse and all through yesterday not a single complaint about the pain escaped your lips but for now, you’re groaning and screeching, your hand collecting the blanket that’s been covering you into your fists. It feels like the bone is penetrating your skin and constant waves of stabbing pain are felt through your entire leg.

You’ve been through pain before but nothing was like what you were experiencing right now, you closed your eyes shut and tried to breathe the pain away but it was useless. “Shit”

And before you know it your eyes well in tears even when you did your best to hold them back, “Please god, make it stop.” You breathe again, the echoing pain is truly overwhelming and it’s something you’ve never felt before.

Jungkook walks out of the kitchen holding a bowl of soup, he thought he heard you saying something, “You called?” But his mouth falls when he actually sees your tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Why does it hurt so much?” Your crying grows louder, the sound a mix of frustration, fear, and when you look at Jungkook a pinch ( if not more) of anger is in your voice too.

Jungkook stands a few feet away and he’s completely frozen in guilt, the hot bowl in his hands may have burned him but that doesn’t matter now. He watches you in silence, his doe eyes wide with regret, his hands even start shaking.

“It’s getting worse every second.” You sob again, your fists tightening around the blanket.

Jungkook swallows hard his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix this— I—“ He steps forward hesitantly, torn between wanting to help and fear he’ll probably make this worse. He takes a couple steps closer and takes a seat on the floor next to you, “Listen to me, you need to have some soup so we can give you the pain killers, okay? You can’t have it on an empty stomach.” He puts the bowl onto his lap before offering you a spoonful, “work with me y/n, just a couple of bites and i’ll give you the pill.”

Your head falls back onto the pillow that supported your head and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, your head shakes left and right before you breathe. “I can’t take it anymore, just call someone or take me back to the hospital—“

“We are not going there.” He puts the bowl down onto the coffee table before looking you in the eyes. “The doctors said it’s okay to experience the pain, if you’re not eating before your pill then you’re on your own i can’t do anything more than what i’m already doing.”

So he’s gonna leave you twist in pain even when he’s the reason for all of this?

So you had to give up and take a few spoonfuls of your soup before finally taking the meds that were prescribed after your meal.

And not even 20 minutes after, you were in deep sleep like nothing even happened.

And Jungkook finally has his moment of peace and silence in front of the fireplace, he gets back up to head to the kitchen and puts the bowl into the dishwasher before grabbing himself a beer and looking around the house. He finds Coco making her way into the hallway and watches him move around, before carelessly stretching and falling asleep next to your pair of taken off socks, or sock actually. “Good girl.”

You’re in deep sleep that even if someone shot a grenade next to you, you wouldn’t even flinch. So this is probably his opportunity to take a look around your very spacious place.

He looks around, some of his friends own penthouses but yours was very high end and cozy at the same time, the view to the city was incredible and the materials and decor used around your place are really mesmerizing, a couple stairs up and the first door he sees he opens it, apparently it’s your bedroom and it had the same view, his jaw drops when he gets into your walk in closet and sees the amount of expensive jewelry and clothes that are stacked there, he’s never seen anything like this before.

A couple more steps towards the end of the corridor he finds another room and he’s a little taken back when he realizes that the door to this room was locked, he finds it a bit strange that even when you live on your own you still lock some doors, unless you’re keeping something inside that mustn’t be seen.

His tongue runs on the side of his cheek before he takes a tour around the rest of the house, checking out the guests rooms, the entertainment center and the wine seller slash bar, finally finishing off with the terrace, it’s freezing cold outside and it’s snowing so it’s impossible to go outside, but from what he can see is that you probably have people over occasionally, the pool that is currently closed and the barbecue grill along with the patio furniture is why he assumed that. It must have cost you a fortune!

He takes another trip back to the kitchen before opening the cabinets, his stomach is starting to growl.

You on the other hand, you want to wake up— scratch that, you need to wakeup, you’re seconds away from peeing yourself and you know your trip to bathroom will take at least 10 minutes on the way.

It feels like someone superglued your eyes shut because they weigh a ton! You have to pee and it’s urgent.

“Nat?” It hits you seconds later that Nat isn’t staying at your place tonight, once you see Jungkook walking of the kitchen with his cheek half full and a bag of flaming hot Cheetos in his hand. “Oh no, you’re up?”

You wouldn’t risk rolling your eyes because you know you’ll fall back to sleep. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Listen woman, i heard you vomit a couple hours ago i don’t think i can hear your stream. We’re not there yet.” He smacks chew on the cheeto in his mouth and honestly you wish your crutches were closer once again. “You know what Jeon i don’t want you here either for the record, maybe putting you in jail would’ve been easier.”

“Yeah, i’m starting to think so too.” He huffs and puts the bag of cheetos down on the coffee table, he inches closer and stretches his hand to help you but you cringe and look up at him. “Your fingers have cheetos on them—“

And before you even finish he doesn’t think twice before putting his finger into his mouth and licking it clean. What a pig.

“Just go wash your hands.” You whine and he just stands there. “I thought you wanted to pee.”

“Yeah, wash your hands first Jeon, i’m not touching you when your hand is full of spit mixed with cheeto.” Just the idea is making you about to hurl out your insides.

“But i’m not done with my chips yet.”

Your insides are boiling with anger and you’re looking for something to throw at him but you can’t find anything. “You can get back to pigging on the chips when I'm done, you even invaded my pantry for crying out loud.”

He takes one last glance at you covered up with your unreasonably over priced blanket before he heads over to the bathroom, you hear the water running and it does nothing but trigger your urgency even more. That’s it you’re not sure you can hold it in anymore, but you’re sure that washing his hands shouldn’t take that long.

“Jeon hurry.” You breathe and relax trying to distract yourself but you’re starting to get cold sweats.

A couple minutes after he walks back and finally supports you to get up. “Alright rich girl, one trip to your bathroom and I just found out that hermes now make bath towels.”

“Shut it.” You find it hard to talk when you’re focusing on your bladder and walking slowly.

“Like do you really have to buy an expensive towel for your guests to dry their hands? How rich are you?”

“It’s not that expensive.” You take one step at a time, your throbbing pain feels a little further away since you took your painkillers not long ago.

“Yeah? Like how much?”

“I don’t recall, probably 300 bucks a towel or something-“

“For a stupid towel? rich people are really dumb.” He scoffs. “What exactly do you do for a living?”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re ever going to get to the point where you find out personal shit about me.”

“Yeah, sure. I get to hear you vomit and take a piss but I don’t get to find out what you do?” He exclaims, “Besides, I practically stay here the entire day, you haven’t mentioned work not even once.”

“Yeah, because you’re a stranger.”

“But hey really, what do you do? you have expensive slippers for your bathroom too for the love of god.”

You stop for a second, trying to make something up. “I do stock and online trading.”

“Is that lingo for drugs or money laundering?” He did sound serious when he asked the question, which made you turn your head towards him and squint your eyes. “And you called me dumb.”

“No for real, what do you do?” You finally get to the bathroom, he helps you inside and stands behind the door waiting for you to pull down your pants so he can walk back in and help you sit on the toilet.

It really makes you feel uneasy, but you have to get used to it.

He stands outside while you do your job with his arms crossed. “So is your father rich?”

“Nope.” You’re taking your time on the toilet seat, and Jungkook is still curious wanting to get an answer. “Are you someone’s sugar baby or something? People are doing this kind of shit now.”

“Can you shut up for a second?” You need to have your moment of peace and quiet, and Jeon fatass still itches for the answer that you’re not going to give.

-

It’s right after your second trip to the bathroom when you fall into deep sleep onto your bed, it’s still early in the evening but you called it a night. It’s really exhausting having to deal with someone like him but you can’t let him get away with things easy.

You were generous enough to offer him one of your guests' rooms considering he had to stay with you in case you needed anything, but the night is still young to him and he cannot and will not stay still if it costs him his life.

If he’s not in his room he’d be in the kitchen digging into your pantry, checking out your canned goods and stash of potato chips and chocolate bars, his jaw never stopped moving from the minute he stepped foot into your house.

If he wasn’t being a pig in your pantry he’d be doing pushups in front of your television, his music playlist playing out loud which you wouldn’t worry about because your walls can block any noise.

If he wasn’t doing pushups he’d be holding your bag of meds, emptying them all out into one of the pill organizers Natty got you, he got a little too distracted reading your vitamin leaflet, which he ended up taking a pill for his own. And he finally fell asleep right after taking one last walk around your house, making sure the lights are out and the kitchen is clean.

——

The next day you were up earlier than you thought, your painkillers altered your sleeping schedule, you would regularly sleep for eight to nine hours, but after your pills, you can stay asleep for at least twelve hours straight and you’d still wake up wanting more.

Your morning routine went well with the assistance of Jeon fatass who was kind enough to help you wash your hair and brush your teeth, your friends are visiting this afternoon so the least you can do is smell nice.

It was only Seokjin and Yoongi coming to visit and Natty followed right after with Hoseok, they were all kind enough to get you both flowers and gifts, some even got you a home cooked meal.

“I hope you get better quick, there’s this snow bombing festival happening in Austria and we have to go there, it’s right up your alley!” Seokjin rubs Coco’s back as she lays in his lap, she’s really familiar with your friends.

“I thought we were attending the cherry blossom season here this year since we missed it last year.” Hoseok was kind enough to debone the chicken thigh that’s been soaking in hot soup, giving you small bites every now and then. “Since y/n would still be fresh out of her injury, I bet she won’t be able to hike for a while.”

“Not with your allergies,” You giggle and playfully hit his arm which makes him laugh and quickly give up on his idea.

Jungkook has been sitting around, his legs crossed, listening to your conversation and feeling totally out of place, all this rich people talk didn’t make sense to him. One second you’d mention the next trip on your schedules, the minute after Yoongi talks about the insanely expensive watch he got, and how he almost lost it while sky diving in Jeju.

“What about you Jungkook? Have you traveled somewhere?” Natty can sense his discomfort and she was kind enough to be inclusive and try making him fit in since he’s going to be around for a while. But he’s pretty sure he won’t, and he honestly didn’t care if he doesn’t.

“Mhm. Yeah.” Jungkook crosses his fingers onto his own lap. “Last summer, it was extravagant.”

“Oh yeah? Where to? It has to be somewhere cold, I know people who can’t handle the summer heat here in Seoul.” Seokjin still massages Coco’s neck before looking at Jungkook, everyone’s all ears willing to find out where he went.

“Busan.”

And it feels like he cracked one of the funniest jokes ever, Hoseok almost falls onto the floor laughing, and Seokjin’s tears even roll onto his cheeks, Natty almost chokes on her own spoonful of soup, and Yoongi just cackles.

Only you’re sitting there watching him with a straight face. You had some assumptions on this man and you know they may be right. It’s been a couple of days since you met him, and you already know that he’s nothing like he claims he is.

“But hey for real, where’d you go?”

Jungkook laughs subtly before repeating his answer. “Busan. It’s my hometown.” He mentions it as a matter of fact, which leaves your friends’ mouth wide open and they listen attentively, waiting for him to say that he was joking.

“One of my favorite cities of all time. And it’s like a four hour drive.”

Once the attention is diverted off of him, you still follow him with your eyesight, seeing him scratching behind his ear and grabbing out his phone from his pocket, it was only until now you noticed he has a fully tatted sleeve. his piercings caught your attention first the day before, but the tattoos.

You had one yourself on your upper thigh, but his arm seemed a little too much to you, you were never the person to judge people, but Jungkook? What was there to not judge?