#its alright but its only going to sound worse with time so i may as well post it now

[paradoxbeta]

another song, not rainworld this time around. this bad boy is 10 months old and not getting any younger, so ive decided to go ahead and let it be free.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[norman-fucking-reedus]

HE ATE MY HEART!

“I love that girl”

gif by @corvidcrossbow

IM SO FUCKING EXCITED TO FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO POST ON HERE AND ALSO TO POST SOMETHING TO THIS SONG

Vamp!Daryl has rotted not only my brain but the community. I am not sorry at all for the plague I'm spreading and I hope that it only gets worse.

So I've been doing some research on it, and I really like the idea of mixing the Blade universe w TWD, I did some more research on the different types of vampires (its kind of a lot so if you want you can go read abt them here!) To basically summarize, there's people, daywalkers (half vamp-people), walkers, full vampires, and then Revenants (half-walker half vampire, basically just another way to die)

This also makes it easier for whenever Scud becomes my next vampy victim

AUUUGH I NEED MY HOT SEXY NEEDY VAMPIRE MAN WHO JUST WANTS TO DRINK ALL MY BLOOD SOMEONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING PLEASE

also I am working on reqs yes I am, I have one scud fic that is dirty and nasty and should be getting posted soon. also I may not be on tumblr as much as I used to be because GUYS I am now employed yes that's right I got off my computer, went outside, interacted with people, and got a job #gangshit

It had been over a week since Daryl had eaten, and over two since he had left to go out on the community's monthly supply run.

As he stumbled through the opening gates, he felt like he had been through a war. His body was wracked with exhaustion, weakness, and hunger. The air was thick with the strong scent of blood, and he couldn't keep himself from groaning painfully when he was bombarded by Carol and Rick asking where he had been, what had taken so long, and if he was alright.

“No! M’not alright dammit” He barked at them in frustration after being asked for the third time if he was alright, his voice laced with irritation and discomfort. Carol couldn't help but notice his pale and clammy appearance.

Her forehead creased into a frown as she tightly pursed her lips, giving Daryl a scolding look that made him uneasy. With a tone of concern, she asked, "I'm worried. When was the last you fed?"

The man's face twisted in discomfort as Rick and Carol stood in his space. He scoffed and muttered, "Not recently, m'fuckin' starvin'" The longer he stayed, the more his head spun and his vision blurred, causing the corners of his eyes to fade into a deep red color. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he could feel his teeth starting to ache.

Rick observed Daryl's malnourished skin, staring at how he was almost transparent. His eyes were screwed shut as the sun harshly burned his sensitive orbs, and he was gripping the strap of his crossbow so hard that his fingers were starting to turn red.

"You should go see Y/n," Rick said, eyes fixed on his friend. "She should be back home and she's been asking about you. I think she misses you." Daryl's body tensed at the sound of your name, and a sudden chill ran down his spine, causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. He tried to hide his reaction, but Rick's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing.

Daryl's head drooped weakly as he could only manage a feeble nod. Rick and Carol had stepped off to the side for him, offering their silent support. Carol placed her hand gently on his shoulder, her grey hair falling across her face as she did so. Rick, with his stern expression, gave Daryl a look that he knew meant there was no room for argument.

His senses were already heightened to an extreme level, almost at an overload as the sun was abnormally bright, blazing down on him with a blinding intensity, making it difficult for him to even keep his eyes open. He could feel the heat searing his skin, causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead and trickle down his face. He noticed the way that his vest rubbed uncomfortably against him, the fabric clinging to his skin and making him feel sticky and irritable. His already aching teeth began to grind down against each other, and he could feel his razor-sharp fangs digging into the tender skin of his bottom lip, further fueling his pure discomfort.

Each step he took in the direction of your house was tiring and heavy, his dirty, muddy boots slapping against the ground as he dragged himself through the streets, promptly ignoring any strange or judgy looks that were thrown his way. He didn't have the time, let alone the strength to even bother paying them any mind. His stomach churned as his overwhelmed nose couldn't help but pick up the sickeningly sweet smell of blood.

It forced him to quicken his pace, trying to get just as far away from the public eye as he possible could. He didn't want to be looked at, didn't want to be stared at. He just wanted to get inside as soon as fucking possible and just tear off all his goddamn clothes. A ping of hope struck through him when he could see your familiar house only a short distance down the road, having to hold himself back from flat-out sprinting the rest of the way there.

Though it was only about a thirty-second walk, it had been the longest in his whole entire life, and walking up the small steps of your porch was like something out of a nightmare. He could disgustingly feel the material change in flooring when he stepped off the pavement and onto the creaky wood, the sound grating against his now way too-sensitive ears. Dear god, would someone fucking help him already?

Of course, as if on cue, the red front door to your house swung open, but instead of being met with a friendly face, he was met with the barrel of your gun.

"Daryl?" You questioned as you lowered the weapon slightly, a smile stretching across your lips once you had confirmed who was standing and dicking around on your porch. "Daryl!" You fully dropped your defensive position, stuffing the weapon in the band of your pants as you prepared to throw yourself at the man, halting when you finally took in his ruined appearance.

His breathing was labored, and it was hard to keep himself upright on his own two legs, forcing him to lean against the wall by the door. "Hey doll"

You scoffed at him in disbelief, "Don't you dare even "hey doll" me, mister! What the hell happened to you? Get in here right now" Grabbing the front of his vest and pulling his heavy body inside, Daryl groaning as each movement caused pain to his body, slumping against the door when you slammed it shut.

He couldn't be happier when he felt you prying the buttons of his stupidly itchy vest off, him shrugging it off as well as his crossbow, clattering down on the floor and probably chipping the metal further.

"Jesus Daryl, you look fucking terrible. Did you feed on anything at all out there?" You purse your lips as you analyze and checked his unnaturally pale chest, letting out a surprised hiss at the burn lingering on your fingers tips from where you had brushed them against the skin of his shoulder

Daryl groaned as you directed him to sit on the couch, the short steps from the front door already leaving him utterly winded, almost dripping in sweat as he wheezed each breath of air.

“‘Wasn’t much… ‘wasn’t much out there” He spoke breathlessly, head spinning and his stomach loudly churning when you stood in front of him.

When you extended a hand out to cup his face, he tightly gripped your wrist with a shaky hand. “Don’. Please don’” He didn’t want to feed from you, not like this, not in a state where he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t absolutely drain you.

“Daryl” You whispered softly, frowning slightly as you started taking your shirt off, and he wanted to scream at your stubbornness.

You straddled his lap and gently brushed the hair sticking to his forehead off, his blue eyes starting to tint red as the smell of your blood was strong, right in his face. “I don’ wanna”

“I know you don’t sweetheart, but you’ll die. What am I gonna do if you die?” You cupped his face, forcing his gaze onto yours. He whimpered slightly at your touch, his whole body sensitive and reactive.

Daryl shivered when you combed fingers through his hair, hands curling around your hips when you directed his head to your neck. “I trust you, more than I even trust myself” You whispered soothingly into his ear, and he almost wanted to cry.

He could smell the blood coursing through you like it was a burning candle, and his mouth was uncontrollably watering. His fangs were sharp and heavy, aching with the need to sink into your skin, which is exactly what he did, groaning against you at the first drops of blood, not wasting against another second before he was greedily taking mouthfuls.

It was so good, so warm and fresh, sweet and bitter. Daryl had drank lots of blood before, and yours was easily his favorite. He craved it during his time out there, not just because there was a serious lack in wild animals, but because it was addictive.

He squeezed your hips, soft and pillowy in his buzzing palms as he could feel himself starting to get hard in his pants, the more blood he swallowed the more drunk he got.

It made you feel good to watch his natural tan color fade back, his scarred back no longer a ghastly pale. You ran your fingers through his hair, occasionally curling your fingers and gripping the dark locks to grind down against his now-straining cock.

Daryl made soft, small sounds as he fed, each roll of your hips making each gulp of your blood taste so much better. His senses were at an all-time high, overwhelmed and at an absolute edge. He couldn’t help the way his hands pressed you down on his cock, hips desperately jerking against you as he could feel himself getting closer and closer, his head spinning in a blood lust haze.

He was so close, so very fucking close. His sharp claws had made themselves known, and you jolted when they painfully curled into your flesh, hips sputtering and slightly faltering in their movements. Daryl had no problem picking up the slack, almost fucking you right through his pants from how hard he was rutting up into you.

It was just all so much, his whole body on fire with pure arousal as he sighed around a final mouthful of crimson, trembling from his core as his orgasm washed over him, pressing your clothed cunt against him as hard as he could, making his already fuzzy mind draw a complete blank, a loud groan tearing from his throat that caused his fangs to slip out from where he had punctured the skin and drop his head against your shoulder, whimpering softly as he held you down.

You scratched his scalp comfortingly, feeling a little woozy from the amount of blood he had taken. He hummed against you as he started to come down from not only the high of his orgasm but bubbly buzz from his feast.

“Feel better?” You asked in a quiet, sleepy voice when Daryl’s tongue cleaned the drops of blood that had leaked from the small wounds, coating the area in his saliva so that it could heal.

He nodded as peppered you in appreciative and apologetic kisses, pulling you flush against his bare chest by wrapping his arms around your back, claws retracted and replaced with blunt nails. “M’sorry fer hurtin’, ya”

“Instead, you should be sorry for not feeding yourself, mister” You said as you shook your head, pinching his side as you got a bit upset again. “You know it scares me shitless when you do that”

“I know, I know. M’sorry for tha’ too” Daryl grumbled, feeling fatigued as well now that his tummy was full and satiated. His body was still weak and needed rest, now yours did as well considering he had taken a lot more than usual. “I’ll make it up to ya’” He said as he pushed himself up off the couch, grunting as it was a lot harder with tired muscles and one hand keeping his woman wrapped around him, adding a second once he was finally standing.

You giggled at that, arms hooked around his neck. “And just how will you do that?”

“Got a real good idea” Daryl smirked, hoisting you up as he ascended up the stairs to your shared bedroom, hungry for something else that was much better than blood.

I started writing this a few days ago I think this is the quickest I've written something

Vamp!Daryl is an absolute need. I'm loving every single post I see of him and I love watching the disease spread faster than fucking covid I jump for joy when I see someone I don't even know talking abt him is this what fame feels like is this what its like to be famous am I fucking famous

yes you do want more of this so go read more

Bloodthirsty @dixons-sunshine

Bite me @mydearestdaryl

[roses-for-readers]

Aggressive Caregiver ~ Tsu'tey x Reader

Warnings: Jake being an idiot at times, mentions of broken bones, Tsu'tey being a softie, pretty much just fluff and stuff

Synopsis: After an incident where you get hurt, Tsu'tey agrees to take care of you while you recover.

Masterlist

"Jake, I don't think this is a good idea." In retrospect, it was a fucking stupid idea. But I couldn't just flat out say that to my brother in front of Neytiri, who he was trying to impress. I wasn't trying to get in the way of what he was trying to do, but I also didn't want to have to explain to the healers why he would be returning to the clan with multiple broken bones.

Jake had somehow gotten it in his head that he could mount his ikran in midair if he called for it before jumping. He told me about the idea just moments before Neytiri had come over to us to hear what he was talking about. Jake had just pulled us along in order to prove what I knew was going to be a complete disaster without even telling Neytiri a word of the plan. I wasn't even given a chance to attempt to talk him out of it before he was already climbing.

Jake was about halfway up the tree when he finally walked out onto one of its branches. He looked down towards the both of us before he finally said, "Come on. Everything will be fine as long as it works out. Besides, what is the worst that could happen (Y/n)?"

"I would like to remind you that nothing good ever follows that statement whenever you say it. Now please just come back down here before its too late." When that statement left my mouth, Neytiri's ears had perked up slightly. While she may not know what he had planned, she certainly didn't want anything bad to Jake. Especially after all the time and effort it took to train him.

As she was about to say something, a voice sounded close behind us, "What is the skxawng doing this time?" We both turned to find Tsu'tey walking over to us while he had his eyes on Jake, who was about 100 feet in the air. There was an unamused look on his face as he stopped not too far from where me and Neytiri were standing.

Jake looked down and smiled at the new arrival. "Tsu'tey, you are just in time! I was just about to show the ladies here something I thought of. I'm glad that you will get to witness this as well."

"Jake Sully, don't you dare move off of that branch unless you want to get yourself killed!" I immediately yelled at him. I was throughly unimpressed with the fact that not only was Neytiri having to bear witness to this idiotic display, but Tsu'tey also had gotten roped into it as well. I huffed while glaring up at my brother, wondering how I would finally convince him to come down without much of a fight.

Tsu'tey looked over to me before he spoke once again. "You did not come to training so you could convince your brother to not get himself killed? That is your excuse for why you didn't show today? I was pulled away from my duties to teach you our ways and this is how my time is repaid?"

Looking over toward the man, I glared over at him like how I did with Jake. Using a slightly rude tone, I retaliated with, "You make it seem like I enjoy having to be one that makes sure that he stays alive. Do you know exactly how many ideas I had to talk him out of in order for him to survive this far in life? Way too fucking many. And this might actually be one of the worse ideas that has come to Jake's mind." Looking back up towards Jake, I yelled out, "Now get down from there this instance!"

Jake leaned over the branch slightly, smirking down at us. Holding his hands up in surrender, he hollered down, "Alright, you win little sister. I'll come down, but on one condition. You have to come up here and lead me back down yourself. Otherwise, this is still happening. You have 20 seconds to make up your mind. Time starts now."

I rolled my eyes at his childish behavior. Of course he would still have me be involved even though he was backing down. I dug my foot into the dirt while glaring at the ground.

"15 seconds left! What's it going to be (Y/n)?"

Neytiri placed her hand on my shoulder. I looked at her, seeing the concerned expression that was on her face. Neytiri looked directly into my eyes while she quietly said, "Maybe you should just go up and get him. Keep him from hurting himself."

"Ten! Nine! Eig-"

"Alright! I'm coming! Just stop counting." I reluctantly made my way over to the tree before starting to climb upwards. I continued climbing, mumbling under my breath the whole time. Soon, I had made it to the branch that Jake was currently standing in the middle of. I remained close to the trunk as I glared over at Jake. "Alright, I climbed up to get you. Now get your ass on the ground."

Jake smiled while walking a little further down the branch. Shrugging his shoulders, Jake looked downwards while saying, "I said you had to lead me down. Means you have to come out here and get me."

I remained in my position, refusing to move an inch. I could tell that the branch was slightly unstable, moving gently with each move that Jake made. I looked Jake in the eyes as I said, "I am not getting on this branch. Now come down before one of us get hurt."

Jake smiled towards the sky as he continued to speak, "You know, maybe if I called my ikran now, then-"

Before he could finish the sentence, I was already at his side. He had managed to walk out over halfway towards the end of branch. I carefully pushed Jake in front of me in order to lead him so we could return to the ground.

Jake laughed as I continued to push him. He looked over his shoulder with a smile, "See? Nothing bad happe-"

As soon as those words left his mouth, the branch gave way. We fell towards the ground, leaves and vines occasionally slowing the fall. When we finally hit the ground, I landed first directly on my back with my arms spread out from the impact. Jake came down soon after, landing directly beside me. Which also means he landed on my arm, causing me to scream out at the same time that I heard a sickening crack follow soon after his drop.

Neytiri and Tsu'tey were quick to come over to us once we hit the ground. I could only cry as they helped pick Jake off of me, the pain in my arm almost becoming unbearable. I knew it was definitely broken, but I had no idea how bad it was. All that I could seem to do was curl up onto my side while trying to keep my arm as still as possible.

Jake was by my side soon after he had regained awareness of his surroundings. His hands came up to my face, wiping away as many tears as he could while I cried. Neytiri was behind me, rubbing my back while trying to calm me down. Her efforts soon became fruitless as she rubbed over a certain area which then caused me to let out a small scream from the sensation. Clearly, I hurt a portion of my back as well without my knowledge.

Neytiri quickly removed her hand while looking over at the two men that were gathered around my sobbing figure. With a gentle voice, she said, "We must take her back to my mother. She will know how to properly help (Y/n)."

"Alright. Come on sis, I got you." As Jake had reached out for me, I started smacking him with my one good arm.

I glared at him through my tears as I yelled, "Don't touch me, you ass! I should have just let you break your neck trying to do your stupid trick!"

Jake just pulled away, trying not to get hit anymore while I was laying on the ground. Neytiri stepped over to Jake before looking over at Tsu'tey. "Tsu'tey, you take (Y/n) back while I help Jake."

"Neytiri, I don't need any help."

"Ma'Jake, your ankle is swelling. You won't be able to walk by yourself." After Neytiri had said that, I looked towards Jake's feet to realize that his right ankle was slightly bigger with a somewhat dark shade of purple covering it. I slightly grimaced at the sight, but knew it was probably only just a slight sprain that he had.

Before much else could be said, Tsu'tey had picked me up as gently as he could. He moved my good arm around his neck so he could pick me up. He used one arm to hold me up beneath my legs while he used the other to wrap around the middle of my back. As I wrapped my legs around him, I moved my head to rest against his shoulder as I tried to take some deep breaths in order to calm myself down. After he made sure that my broken arm settled in between our torsos, Tsu'tey started to head back in the direction of the village.

Everything was quite for a few minutes before Tsu'tey finally spoke up. "You should not have walked onto the branch."

Even though I wasn't looking at his face, I could practically feel the look of disapproval from his tone alone. My ears dropped slightly as I let out a small, "I know."

I could feel the huff that left him as I spoke. I knew he was upset from the fact that both Jake and I got hurt. Him and Jake had become friends soon after the war had ended. Though, we had a bit of a weird relationship. We were friends, but it almost felt like a bit more than a standard friendship. We always seemed to spend a bit more time with each other, normally by hunting together or going on a flight with our ikrans. Sometimes he would even joke around with me when it was just the two of us. Though sometimes I did wish it would be something more than just friends, I was ok with the relationship that I had with Tsu'tey. As long as he was apart of my life, I would be happy either way.

I let out a shaky breath as I mumbled, "It really hurts, Tsu'tey."

He carefully rubbed my side as he quietly said, "I know. We are almost to the village. Mo'at will look over you and then you will be fine. Just a few more minutes."

It was silent for a bit before I decided to speak up. "Tsu'tey, could you put me down? I think I can walk the rest of the way."

"Absolutely not." He immediately shot down my request. In fact, he tightened his hold on me slightly in order to emphasize his point.

I let out a small whine before saying, "Tsu'tey, people will see. The clan already talks enough, I don't want to give anyone another reason to start assuming anything."

I could feel the scoff that leaves him as soon as the statement left my mouth. "It does not matter what they say. You need me right now, so I will be here." I could tell from his tone that I had absolutely no room to argue with him.

Once we entered the village, I avoided the gaze of anyone that we passed. I could hear people whispering to one another as Tsu'tey continued to make his way towards the healing huts. It didn't take long for us to finally get there as Tsu'tey had pushed past almost anyone in the way of our destination.

Once Tsu'tey had walked through the door, Mo'at had turned towards us. She stood while motioning for me to be sat on of the beds that was in the center. Carefully, Tsu'tey had placed me down while helping me sit up as Mo'at started to grab supplies from one of the shelves.

"What happened to her?" While her tone was slightly harsh, when I looked at her, Mo'at's gaze was soft as she started to inspect over my body carefully.

Tsu'tey spoke softly as he started to explain everything that had happened. He pointed out the part of my back that had cause me so much discomfort earlier. Mo'at gently ran her fingers over the spot causing me to flinch away with a soft whine. Mo'at made a noise of disapproval as she started to apply some ointment to the area. With some help from Tsu'tey, she wrapped some bandages around my torso before she moved to inspect my arm. I whined as she moved my arm to get a better understanding of the extent of my injury. I took a few deep breaths as Mo'at started to apply more ointment on my arm before she put more wrapping on my arm. Once she was done, she brought a small bowl with a strange liquid in it towards me. I was about to take it with my uninjured hand when Tsu'tey grabbed the bowl from Mo'at. He brought it towards my lips and helped me drink from it. I grimaced at the taste before coughing slightly from the sting of the medicine going down my throat.

After my coughing fit was done, Jake and Neytiri had made their way into the tent. Jake looked down at me, taking notice of the bandages covering part of my body. Neytiri helped sit him down before getting more supplies in order to help Jake.

He looked over to Mo'at as he asked, "How bad is it? Is she going to be alright?"

Mo'at had finished looking me over for any more injuries that I may have gotten. Once she was done, she moved over to Jake to start checking on him. "She will not be able to move her arm without pain for a while. She will also need to rest in order for her back to properly heal. Meaning that you will need to stay with someone while you are healing (Y/n)."

"She can stay with us. It's the least that I can do after all." I glared at Jake as soon as he opened his mouth. He shrunk back slightly from the intensity of my gaze, an apologetic look crossing his face.

Neytiri went over to Jake's side as she started to treat some of the scratches that littered his body. As she applied the paste she had onto his body, she softly said, "Ma'Jake, you won't be able to walk on your own for a few days. I will have my hands full with you as is."

"Besides, if I stay with you right now, I will kill you while you sleep." I continued to glare at him while I spoke. Jake let out a shaky laugh which turned into a whine when Mo'at grabbed at his ankle.

Tsu'tey spoke up from beside me as he watched the interaction. "I will look after her while she recovers." He placed his hand on my shoulder in an act of comfort. My face started to heat up, though I chose to believe it was the medicine finally taking effect. He looked over at me as he continued, "Only if you are comfortable with it. You do not have to if you wish to stay with someone else."

I looked back towards Tsu'tey, who was staring at me with a soft expression on his face. I gave him a soft smile before I made up my mind. "I would really appreciate it, Tsu'tey. Thank you."

He smiled at my words as he moved so his back was facing me. My blush started to deepen as I began to realize that he wanted me to climb on so he could carry me. I hesitated at first, but finally accepted after acknowledged that he wouldn't let me leave the healing tent any other way.

Once Tsu'tey had his arms secured underneath my legs, he stood up and started to leave. I placed my head on his shoulder as I let out a small sigh. I could feel the people staring once we walked out of the tent. They all must be curious as to why the clan's best warrior was carrying me in a way that would appear so intimate for him. Tsu'tey seemed unfazed by the stares as he continued the walk to his hut.

When we finally go to the tree where Tsu'tey's hut was in, I heard him quietly say, "Hold on tight." Once I secured my hold on him, Tsu'tey immediately began climbing up the tree. He moved so quickly up the tree, it seemed as if I didn't weigh anything to him. It didn't take long for us to get to his hut. When we entered, he started heading straight to his hammock. Tsu'tey helped me get into it with minimal incident.

I tried sitting up so I wasn't laying down just yet, but he pushed me down gently by my shoulders. I tried pushing against his efforts, but he stayed firm on his decision for me to rest to what he deemed the best way. To show how serious he was, Tsu'tey gave a small hiss before I finally gave up on fighting him. Once he was certain I wasn't going to get back up, Tsu'tey moved his hand away slowly. He started walking to what seemed to resemble a kitchen. At least that's what it seemed like from where I laying down. He was moving around swiftly, grabbing things as he went. I watched him for a little bit before I turned my attention to things that were closer to me.

It was the first time that I had been over to his home, but it didn't quite seem like it was completely him. There were more plants around than I would expect him to be interested in having. Small groups of flowers had wrapped themselves around some of the branches that were overhead. I smiled at the homely feeling that was emitting from the little details that were littered all over. I turned to my side to look around a little better when I took notice of something that was close by. I strained my eyes to see what exactly was on the ground. Once I figured out what it was Tsu'tey had finally made his way back to me. He used one hand to roll me onto my back once again, then shoved a bowl of fruit into my hand with the other. He started mumbling something about me 'not listening' while he was gone. I just smiled looking up at him.

"Hey Tsu'tey, did you make a necklace over there? It looks really nice." His face paled as he went over to where the piece of jewelry was placed. Tsu'tey picked it up before hastily putting it away where I wouldn't be able to see it. I let out a small laugh from the change in his behavior. "Come on Tsu'tey. I wanna see what it looks like."

He turned back towards me with a slightly conflicted look on his face. "You should not have seen it. It is not how things are supposed to work when it comes to the matter."

"What do you mean? It's just a..." It took a minute for me to fully understand what he meant by that statement. A look of understanding crossed my face when I barely whispered, "It's a courting gift." He looked at the ground, his ears pinned against his head in what seemed like shame. I sent him a gentle smile before saying "Tsu'tey, I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were interested in anyone like that. Why didn't you say anything?"

Tsu'tey looked back at me as he slowly made his way back to the hammock. He refused to make eye contact as he tired to find the right words to explain. "It is complicated, (Y/n). It does not feel right talking of this with anyone when it comes to the matter."

I could tell that he felt awkward about the current topic. I brought the bowl he had given me towards him as a form of comfort. He hesitantly took a piece, fiddling with it instead of eating it. I looked back up at the flowers that decorated the branches above us. Sighing mostly to myself, I decided I was going to try and lighten the mood.

"Can I give you some advice about this whole thing?" He gave a small huff, but didn't stop me from continuing what I was about to tell him. "I think I have an idea who it could possibly be that you might be courting. And I have to say just this." I looked back towards him to notice that Tsu'tey's body was completely tense. I tried hold back my smile as I continued, "I know Jake is a great guy, but you could do so much better than my brother. I mean, Jake is an idiot and he alw-"

Tsu'tey tossed the fruit he had in his hand at my face. He let out a short hiss, but he had a playful smile on his face. I gasped before grabbing a piece of fruit and tossed it at him in retaliation. Tsu'tey was able to dodge it, but he pretended to be as if he had actually be struck. I began laughing at the face he made, causing him to join in soon after.

The next few minutes were just of us laughing at practically nothing. When we finally calmed down, I looked back at him with a serious expression. "In all honesty though, any woman that you choose to have as your mate will be lucky to have you. You deserve to be happy Tsu'tey. Everyone will stand by you with whatever decision that you make."

He smiled at my words of encouragement, clearly feeling slightly better after hearing them. He looked around his home as he began to talk again. "I am grateful that you feel that way. I have been trying to make this place feel more welcoming for her. Though, the plan I had for the courting process doesn't seem to be going the way I had hoped."

Confusion crossed my face as I decided to inquire, "Really? What went wrong? Is she making you work to get her attention?"

"Actually, she fell out of a tree and ruined the plan of having her to meet me later tonight."

I was left speechless from his sudden confession. Sure, I knew Tsu'tey saw me as a good friend, but I didn't think that he thought of me the same way I did him. Though, I must have been silent for to long, because he started to stand with his ears pinned back.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n). I thought you felt the same way. I will leave you be for now."

Before he was able to walk away, I grabbed ahold of his wrist. He looked down in shock, not expecting me to touch him. I gave him a loving smile as I whispered, "I wanna see it." He looked confused, clearly not understanding what I meant. I moved my hand down to hold his as I spoke again. "I wanna see my necklace if I'm going to say yes to your proposal."

His ears perked up as soon as I finished talking. I slowly let go of his hand when he moved to retrieve the necklace from its recent hiding spot. Tsu'tey had the biggest grin on his face as he walked back towards me. He held it out for me to see the details, clearly proud of his work. I was awestruck by the detail of it. He had used blue and green beads decorated almost the entirety of the necklace. In the center was the dulled down tip of an arrow. I smiled when I realized that it was from one of the arrows that Tsu'tey had replaced not to long ago.

I sat up slightly as I ran my fingers across it softly. I looked back up at Tsu'tey before asking, "Can you help me put it on?"

Tsu'tey leaned over to secure the necklace on me. Once he made sure it wouldn't fall off, he placed my chin between his fingers to tilt my head. He let out a hum of approval as he admired how it hugged my neck. He had a prideful smile on his face as he barely whispered, "Look at you. So beautiful."

A blush started to form across my face as I looked away in embarrassment. Tsu'tey caressed my cheek before he leaned down to place a kiss on my cheek. I giggled as he continued to leave kisses all over my face. He continued for a few moments before leaning in and placed a kiss softly on my lips. I leaned in to deepen the kiss slightly.

I reluctantly pulled away, taking a deep breath. I rested my forehead against his, closing my eyes at the domestic moment we were having. We lasted like that for a few minutes, just basking in each other's presence. I sighed before letting out a mumbled, "Can we cuddle, please?"

Tsu'tey chuckled at my request, but helped me move around so he could lay down with me. When he finally got situated, I snuggled into his side. He was careful as he pulled me to be laying down on top of him, his tail wrapping itself around my thigh in the process. I nuzzled into his neck as I began to let out quiet purrs. Tsu'tey began to draw small patterns on the uninjured part of my back as he continued to chuckle to himself.

We stayed like that for a while until he finally broke the silence. "There is one thing that I have been wondering." I gave a soft hum as I waited for him to continue. "Why was your brother in that tree to begin with?"

I held back a giggle as I said, "It's kind of a long story. I don't know if you even want to hear it."

I felt his laugh vibrate throughout his chest at my answer. "(Y/n), you aren't going to be able to move around that much for the next few days. I'm willing to listen to anything you have to tell me. So tell me what Jake was trying to accomplish from halfway up that tree."

[fatkish]

Helloooo

I wanted to request pls a father Aizawa scenario

He was patrolling with his daughter but a villains attacked and she took a hit for him. It was that bad that anyone thought she would survived bet she did hehe.

Happy ending pls

Thanksss

-🩶

Aizawa x Daughter Reader: Patrol

Amongst the nightlife of Musutafu, there was all kinds of people. Some getting home late, some just starting their night shift, etc. You and your dad had been on patrol together one night. You decided to intern with him since you didn’t really want to be in the spotlight like the rest of your class. Midnight has just passed and it was now the next day officially. As you stood on a building’s roof with your dad and watching the streets, something caught your eye.

You watched as a man with a hood walked into a 24 hour convenience store. You watched as your gut told you something wasn’t right. The man had walked up to the cashier and pulled out a gun that was apparently his hand. The guy put some stuff on the counter and paid for it then left. You supposed he was a Heteromorph or something. Out of nowhere you hear a gunshot.

You and your dad rush to the sound and find two guys. One with a couple of knives and the guy from the convenience store. He had a quirk that allowed him to shoot out the small bones in his fingertips. The guy had a couple of slashes in his hoodie and was actually bleeding. You told your dad to help the guy who was bleeding as you took on the knife guy. As he tried to stab you, you dodged again and again. What you didn’t see was that the guy grew a second hand and went to throw a knife at your dad.

“Eraserhead! Look out!”

You shouted as you pushed both your dad and the gun finger dude to the ground. The knife the guy threw was now sticking out of your lower back. Your dad quickly used his scarf to restrain the other guy and kicked him in the gut hard enough to knock him out. Your dad then ran over to you and looked at the knife.

“(Hero name), it’s a small knife but we shouldn’t pull it out until we get to the hospital just in case”

Your dad spoke as he carefully examined the knife. You walked over to the gun hand guy and helped him up.

“That’s the last time I have an affair. Are you alright?” The guy asked as he stood up.

“Yeah I’m good. Do you wanna tell us why this man attacked you?”

“Um… I may have… slept with his wife” he sheepishly replied as he twiddled his fingers. As he spoke you could see the flashing lights of the police cars. As the police officers came to arrest the knife guy, you handed gun fingers over to them for questioning. As the police cleaned up the scene, you and your dad left to go to the hospital. On the way to the hospital, you passed out inside the ambulance and began to display symptoms of poisoning.

When you arrived at the hospital you began to take a turn for the worse. The toxins in your body began to attack the tissue surrounding the injury and the wound began to blister. (I’m talking out of my ass since I don’t have any specific poison or venom in mind as I write this) your skin became pale and a rash broke out all over as you continued to get worse. Eventually your windpipe collapsed and you had to be intubated. As you body began to slowly shut down, Aizawa left to question the knife wielder to hopefully find out if there was an antidote.

While Aizawa questioned the man, he learned that the poison wasn’t supposed to be so bad and that its more likely that your body was having some kind of allergic reaction. The poison was only supposed to make the person itchy and develop sight rashes that would go away. Needless to say the guy was charged with assault with a deadly weapon. As Aizawa returned to the hospital, he informed the doctors what he had been told. So the doctors worked to help you flush the poison out of your body and hopefully you’ll survive.

It took an entire week for you to slowly get better. Your body began to function normally and you gained back some color. Your wound was healing as well as the rash had started to clear up. You started to breathe on your own and you eventually woke up. When you awoke, you saw your dad to the side of you sitting in a chair.

“Hey dad”

“(Y/n)! You’re okay, thank goodness, I was so worried I was going to lose you.” You dad spoke as he hugged you gently.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me. You should know that by now.”

“Yeah.”

Aizawa smiled seeing as you were back to normal, almost.

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

[cuubism]

Rock Paper Scissors

Dreamling | Pre-Slash | 5.7k | AO3

Dream suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead." "Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me." "I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds." "Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

Hob gets challenged to a duel. Too bad his opponent has it out for Dream, and has no intention of playing fair.

--

the first fic I ever started writing for Dreamling a year and a half ago, then forgot about! 😂 then randomly decided to finish.

--

“ROBERT GADLING,” yelled an individual Hob had never met before in his life, “I hereby challenge you to a duel!”

Hob squinted at him. Said individual was standing across the darkened street, dressed strangely in a white tunic flecked with gold. Then again, Hob’s barometer for strange was a bit different than what was normal, so who was he to say, really.

“What?” he said.

Suddenly this person was much closer to him. Hob flinched back, but couldn’t move much, close as he was to the pub door. “We have business,” hissed his pale-suited challenger. It was a masculine figure, blond hair swished to one side, eyes like fire. 

Hob wasn’t impressed. He’d seen worse. Better, too.

“Listen, mate,” he said, “I don’t really have time for this. I’ve already got something on the books tonight. Come back tomorrow.”

He started to walk through the doorway, but the… creature?—he didn’t think it was human—grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “We have business,” it repeated.

Hob tried to shake off its hand, but its grip was like hot iron. It seared through his jacket and burned his skin. 

“What business?” he snapped. “I’m certain we’ve never met before, and my memory is actually pretty good, long as it is.”

The creature smiled, more like a baring of teeth. “You have courted those who have harmed me—and my ilk.”

“Not clearing it up at all.”

There was a sound like the swishing of a thousand ghosts, and then Dream was beside him.

Dream. How strange, still, to have a name, a history—well, sort of—to put to the face he’d circled back to over and over again for all these years. The name cut his friend into sharp relief—Hob’s shadow, finally united with the being who cast it. 

Where the pale stranger burned white-hot, Dream emanated cold. Hob had always found his friend’s cold aura strangely comforting. It didn’t feel dangerous and biting like the winter wind. Instead, it was the cold of lake water when one dove deep enough, a subtle and quiet draw to the otherworldly. 

Well. Usually it didn’t feel dangerous. Right now, it felt positively hypothermic.

Dream’s presence chilled the air until the stranger was forced to yank his hand away from Hob’s arm, shaking it out with a hiss. Hob’s breath fogged the air in front of his face, never mind that it was summer.

“Phaethon,” Dream hissed on one long, cold breath. “You are not wanted here.”

Phaethon pulled himself up haughtily. “I can go as I please. Night, or no night.”

“You may test that theory if you wish.”

Phaethon faltered, just a bit, before recovering himself. “I am here only to deliver a message. I challenge you, Robert Gadling, to a duel.” His blazing eyes flickered over to Hob, then back to Dream. “I did not believe you were one to violate the old rules of challenge, Lord of Dreams.” 

He bowed slightly. It felt mocking, which rankled Hob, who’d otherwise been keeping his cool. 

“Are you going to explain what this is about?” he said, for the third time. “I don’t appreciate being accused of things I haven’t done.”

Instead of answering, Phaethon said, “I’ve uncovered your history. There’s quite a lot of it, isn’t there? I wager it could make quite a bit of trouble for you, having all of that information turned over to certain parties. Human authorities. Occultists. Vampire hunters, they’ll love you–”

“I’m not a vampire,” Hob snapped.

“Doesn’t matter. Point is, we can do that, or, you can choose to face me directly.”

“What do you seek to gain from the challenge?” demanded Dream. He seemed to know more about what was going on here than Hob, which wasn’t comforting. Hob didn’t particularly want to get drawn into some kind of immortal creature game with obscure rules he’d end up tripping over.

Phaethon’s grin emerged one tooth at a time. “I want… your dreams.”

Hob probably should have been more troubled by this. Instead, he just frowned in confusion. “Not sure that’s in your power, mate. You’re aware who you’re talking to?”

He didn’t need to gesture to Dream looming over his shoulder.

“If you agree to the terms,” said Phaethon, a hiss like lava dripping over stone, “then the magic will bind us.” 

Dream didn’t contradict him, but his anger cooled the air until Hob felt like he was standing atop a glacier.

“I think I’ll pass,” Hob told Phaethon. “Feel free to try to reveal me. I’m good at disappearing.” 

He turned to go—

“Lord Morpheus.” Phaethon turned the beam of his gaze on him, sunlight ricocheting off ice. “Will you stand in his stead?”

Hob grit his teeth and, against his better judgment, turned back around. “Don’t bring him into this. Look, if I win your challenge, what do I get in return?”

“You may request whatever you like,” said Dream. “Such are the terms of the agreement.”

“Fine. If I win, then I want this: you never speak to or of me again. That means no threatening me, no using me to threaten anyone else, no telling anyone about me—nothing. Got it?” God, Hob just wanted to go inside and have a beer.

Phaethon gave him a little bow. “Fair enough. I accept the terms of this challenge.” 

Dream seemed aggravated; a trickle of energy, like black lightning, scurried up the back of his neck and disappeared into his hair. But he didn’t intervene.

Hob and Phaethon shook on it. Then Phaethon retreated into the shadows again, calling, “Tomorrow at midnight, Robert Gadling. I will see you then.” Then his eyes blinked out and he was gone.

Hob shuddered. Good riddance. He rather preferred his eldritch creature to that one, thanks very much.

“What was that?” he said.

Dream’s presence was warming again by small degrees. The atmosphere was now more like an industrial freezer than Antarctica. “A minor demigod.”

“Oh, minor. Alright then.” 

“They are occupied by petty troubles,” said Dream.

Hob looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but elected not to comment. 

“Come on,” he said instead, leading the way back toward the pub. “We’re supposed to be having an easy night of it, dammit!” He wasn’t about to let some minor demigod ruin his night. He never knew how many of them he would get with his friend.

Dream’s gaze lingered on the spot where Phaethon had disappeared, but eventually, like the sweeping of a long coat tail, he followed.

---

"So, a duel," Hob remarked as they sat down across from each other in the pub booth. "I admit, I haven't dueled anyone in a few centuries, but I can't imagine it'll be—”

"It is not what you are thinking of," Dream interrupted. He had folded himself into the booth seat like a stick insect trying to cram itself in a jar. It was an absurd image, the long black coat, the spindly arms on the tabletop. "It is not a fight of the physical form. It is a battle of the mind and will."

"You're going to have to elaborate."

"In such a challenge—” Dream began, but was interrupted by the arrival of a waitress, there to take their order.

"So, what can I get for you chaps?" she said brightly.

The idea of Dream being a chap was so hilarious Hob had to stifle a laugh. Yeah, maybe he wasn't taking the whole duel thing seriously enough. Oh well.

Hob ordered a beer and a plate of chips. When Dream showed no sign of speaking, he ordered for him, too.

“You can order whatever you like,” Hob told him, when the waitress had gone. “It is my pub and all.”

Dream picked up the laminated menu gingerly. It wobbled in his hands. He looked down at it with a flat expression.

Hob realized belatedly that he probably didn’t know what to order. How much had pub food changed since— God, 1910 or so? And it wasn’t like his friend would have had much time to peruse menus since, what with all he’d been up to.

“Just try the chips,” Hob said, taking the menu away from him. “We’ll see how far that gets you.” 

"I have no need of human food," Dream said, folding his hands back on the table.

“Sure, and I technically don’t need my left leg, either, but I do rather like having it.”

“You say strange things,” Dream murmured. “As I was telling you. In such a challenge—” 

The waitress returned with their drinks. Dream glowered at her. Hob thanked her brightly.

"So, you were saying?" he said, sipping his beer. "In such a challenge…?"

"In such a challenge—”

The waitress arrived again with their chips. Dream slammed his hands on the table, shaking the chips in their basket and making the waitress jump. 

"Sorry," Hob apologized, "we've had a bit of a day." Wasn't it always.

"In such a challenge," Dream continued when she had gone, in a tone that suggested he would not be stopped this time, "one must suggest a mind-form, which one's opponent will attempt to surmount and defeat. Then you attempt to defeat their new form, and so on until one challenger is victorious. It is… a predictive game, of sorts. If one can predict what one's opponent’s moves might be, one can choose forms to foil them. This can easily become complicated."

"So, it's like chess," Hob summarized.

Dream stiffened, lips pressing into an offended line. "It is not so simple as chess."

"Checkers?"

"It will not help you to think of it so." Dream took a chip and bit into it in irritation. "You just— oh." He stared at the chip. "These are quite pleasant."

"Can never go wrong with a good chip," said Hob, then furrowed his brows. "Haven't you had them in dreams before or something?"

"Presumably. It has been at least a century." 

Ah, yeah. That. "Well, they're frying them in veg oil instead of lard nowadays anyway. Kind of a different experience." 

Dream stared at him as if Hob made no sense whatsoever.

"Anyway," Hob continued, "am I even going to be able to create these mind-forms? I'm not exactly an otherworldly being." 

"The power is in you, though it may be more challenging to harness. And easier to let slip from your grasp. It is imagination, after all. Humans are good at imagination, though perhaps not so good at holding onto it."

"Hmm." Hob munched on a chip. "Okay. I'll work on my imagination." After seven hundred years or so of life, it was possibly a tool that needed some sharpening. 

"I admit it offends me greatly that Phaethon would presume to ask a human to fight in this way," said Dream. He suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead."

"Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me."

"I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds."

"Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

"Do not joke," Dream growled. Actually, he never truly growled. It was more like his voice dropped into a lower register than usual. Which was saying something. Hob interpreted it as a growl, though. "Do not joke when your existence is at stake. Your immortality cannot protect you from this." 

"Are you saying I'd be unmade if I lost?" Hob asked. It was a concerning thought, to say the least. It had been a long time since he'd had to concern himself with his own mortality.

Dream’s tongue ran over his lower lip. "Potentially. The terms of the fight do not state so, but I do not know how such a duel will affect a human. The strain of it may simply tear you to shreds. It nearly drained me, the last time I fought."

"Wait, you had a fight like this? Recently?"

Dream tilted his head, gaze paling in confusion. "I told you that I went to Hell to retrieve my helm." 

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me you had to mind-battle– who'd you mind-battle anyway?"

"The demon chose Lucifer Morningstar as his representative." Dream’s lip curled in distaste. "Hence, the near loss."

Hob looked at him in concern. "Are you alright, though?"

"Of course I am all right." He spoke it as two words, like the phrase had never before graced his tongue. Hob wanted to let out a long-suffering sigh, but managed to restrain himself. "I am Dream of the Endless."

"Mmhmm. Yep. Okay."

"You do not have to worry about me," Dream said stiffly, parroting Hob's words from before.

Hob thought that was evidently untrue, but decided not to mention the century of imprisonment or the multiple near-death experiences— could he die? Maybe it was more like multiple near-misses with eternal agony— since then. To preserve the relative peace of the moment. 

"So how'd you beat the devil, then?" he asked.

"I had everything to lose. Lucifer had nothing to lose, and only a paltry amusement to gain."

Was that an answer? Hob wasn't sure. 

"Okay," he said. "Well, I do have all of my dreams to lose, apparently. Plenty of incentive to win."

Ice crystallized along the rim of Dream’s glass, spreading from where his fingers pressed. “You speak as if you think I would ever allow this to happen.”

Hob raised an eyebrow. “I thought the magic was binding?”

“Only by honor.”

“And so… what would happen if you violated that honor?”

The words trickled out of Dream reluctantly. “One’s word would not be trusted again.”

“Right. Exactly. I can’t let you do that, love. There’s a whole eternity of words needing to be trusted after this.” It was tempting, honestly, to let his more powerful friend step in and handle this—especially as Hob still hadn’t gleaned what the hell he’d even done to piss off Phaethon—but ultimately, it wouldn’t be right. He’d never used Dream as a clean-up tool for any of his problems in the past, and he wasn’t about to start just because he now knew he was the Lord of Dreams.

Dream’s expression darkened further. He truly was capable of embodying shadow when he was annoyed; Hob didn’t know how he hadn’t figured out the extent of his supernaturalness sooner, honestly. “You would not let.”

“Hey. Come on. I’ve solved plenty of my own problems, haven’t I? Have a little faith.” Hob kind of wanted to pat his hand, but wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “You don’t think I can win a duel against this Phaethon guy?” 

Dream seemed uncertain about it, and Hob couldn’t help but feel a little offended. Sure, he wasn’t a supernatural entity, but Hob had gotten himself out of a fair number of scrapes, and without the help of any Endless, thanks very much! 

“His rancor disturbs me,” Dream said at last. “I do not know what you have done to offend him.”

“Nor I. Never met the guy.”

Dream seemed lost in contemplation. Hob let him, and kept eating the chips.

Eventually, Dream said, “Even if this loss did come to pass… you would always have a place in the Dreaming.”

Hob’s breathing stuttered. “With you?” he said, sounding much smaller than he’d expected. It was… an ill-considered response, to say the least. 

Dream shifted in his seat. “I am the Dreaming,” he said. “It is part of me, and I it.”

“I see,” said Hob. But the thought kept turning within him.

---

No more was said on the matter until their beers were drunk and their chips polished off and they were strolling out the door of the pub. 

As they crossed the threshold, Hob was struck by a realization. He slapped Dream on the breast of his coat, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm an idiot! Of course it's not like chess. It's metaphysical rock-paper-scissors!"

"Are you intoxicated?" Dream asked wearily.

"Nope. Just happy to have my old friend around again."

Dream’s form, unbreakable as the darkness between stars, stuttered. Behind him, his shadow wavered.

Then he swept away, leaving Hob to catch up. 

---

They met again on the field of battle, so to speak.

Phaethon was there before them, melodramatic in his white-and-gold cape. Not as melodramatic as Dream, though, whose eyeliner seemed darker than usual, somehow, and whose cloak swept all the way to the ground, pooling more like liquid than fabric. He was very displeased about these events, Hob could tell.

Hob shook Phaethon’s hand formally. Once again, the touch burned him, but he resisted the urge to shake his hand out in pain. Then they stood across from each other. Hob wished he had a sword, but that was not this game.

"As the challenged party, you commence the duel," Dream told him, standing not far from Hob’s side as Phaethon paced before them, grinning. "You may choose your form and begin."

Hob had thought long and hard about how he would start. He didn't want to go too big, else the fight escalate beyond his control. Obviously, he didn't want to pick something weak either.

What was out there that had tormented mankind, sowing destruction, breeding fear and illness and death, while barely reaching higher than an ankle? 

Hob had lived through it. The choice was obvious.

"I am a plague rat," he started, and saw Dream’s eyebrows twitch. Impressed. Ha! "Hiding in shadows. Letting sickness into our food, homes, blood."

He saw the rats in his mind. Scurrying through tunnels, climbing into grain stores, unaware of what they carried. A seething mass of tails and slick fur and beady eyes, churning, churning, churning. 

Phaethon curled in on himself, limbs creaking, boils popping on his skin and pus leaking from his eyes. Hob flinched at the reminder of those times. Horrible, horrible times.

Mentally, Hob prepared for the counterattack. Paper beats rock. What beats rat? Dog beats rat. Cat beats rat. Famine, extermination fumes, plague doctors, modern medicine—

"I," Phaethon ground out, through the contortions of his body, "am a flood."

Oof. Good one.

"A swelling, raging river, decimating any town in my path. Washing rats down to their deaths." 

A phantom wave smacked Hob in the face and hurled him to the ground. It crashed over him, gallons and gallons of water, surging up his nose, into his eyes, down his throat. He choked on it. He drowned in it. Debris in the floodwaters bruised him till he felt like a branch spinning out in the current, rather than a human.

Then. He managed to take in a breath.

He staggered to his feet.

Dream was standing a step closer, like he'd lurched forward, but he forced himself back into stillness.

"I," Hob said on a gasping breath, pushing wet hair out of his eyes, "am a drought." Phaethon had taken it to another level? Fine. Hob would go scorched earth. "Whisking away all your water. Turning everything into dust."

Phaethon choked, throat suddenly dry. His eyes went bloodshot. His skin flaked and peeled, his lips bled. He clutched at his stomach as it heaved for water.

He could go rain again, Hob thought. Or ice age. Asteroid. Biblical flood—does that count if he already did a regular flood?

"I am famine," said Phaethon, when he'd recovered himself, though he was still rasping. "I wither crops without water. I starve everything that walks."

Hob's stomach caved in on itself. He fell to his knees, retching nothing but bile. His mind flashed back to his decades on the streets, so long without food he'd thought his stomach would start eating itself—and then it had. 

His arms shook. His body felt thin and liable to crack. 

"I," he croaked, still on all fours, "am an oasis. Rising from the desert, real, not a mirage. Offering reprieve." 

Too late, he realized this might restore his opponent. 

But instead, Phaethon creased and cracked, like he was the famine, persecuted by salvation. He clasped his stomach as if it was overfull; water poured from his mouth.

Water filled Hob's mouth, too, but it restored him. He climbed back to his feet.

Dream was definitely closer now. He wasn't imagining it. Still, he didn't intervene.

Phaethon was visibly weakened, but still he said, "I am selfishness. Infighting over limited resources. Society destroying its oasis."

Hob's limbs were torn in opposite directions. He yelled, but the invisible hands on him didn't let up, yanking at him like he was the final piece of food before everlasting deprivation. He pulled at them, but it was no use.

One of his shoulders dislocated with a loud pop, and he bit down on his tongue so as not to scream. Blood exploded in his mouth.

"I am generosity!" he yelled, blood dripping over his lips. "I am brother sharing with brother. Stranger sharing with stranger."

Dream was looking at him now like he didn't know what to make of him. Phaethon, too, was staring at him, but with a look of disgust. 

"High-minded idealist, are you?" he sneered. "What the hell is generosity going to—”

His expression broke in half. His hands shook; he picked at his nail beds until they peeled and started bleeding. His lip wavered and his eyes beaded with tears.

Hob didn't know what was happening to him.

"Shame," Dream breathed from behind him. "So clever, Hob."

Hob hadn't actually known what generosity would do, but he appreciated the compliment nonetheless.

"I," croaked Phaethon, through tears, "am memory. History and anger curdled to a resentment which no generosity can overcome."

He felt Dream’s eyes on him, as he no doubt feared the anger, the resentment he so believed that Hob held over his absence would surge forth again. But it did not, for Hob had never been angry with Dream. Angry with himself, yes, and that he felt acutely, along with the fear and hurt of Dream walking away, the stewing guilt of it.

Memory held more than anger. Mostly, for Hob, it held grief. Grief for his friend who'd been imprisoned for so long, while Hob went about his life, imagining him lonely, isolated perhaps, but never knowing the truth. Grief for himself, too, for he knew that to always blame himself for Dream’s behavior had also been unfair. 

Tears slipped from his eyes. He looked over at Dream, who was still watching him warily.

Memory had far too many facets for Phaethon to use it as an effective weapon.

"I am forgiveness," Hob said, closing his eyes against a fresh welling of tears. He didn't know who he was forgiving. Himself, or Dream, who still seemed to need absolution from Hob, no matter how Hob told him he didn’t.

"I am hatred!" Phaethon snarled. His voice had gone animalistic in a last ditch effort to come out on top. But forgiveness clanged around him, pulling tears from his eyes, undermining his viciousness. "I am division even forgiveness cannot mend."

Just like that, he opened up the path for Hob to take his king. Checkmate. Game over. Rock paper scissors shoot.

"I am love," Hob said quietly, even as a sob caught in his throat as the memory of all the hate he'd witnessed in his life, the hate he'd participated in, and the fear, long-held, that even Dream might hate him, for his wrongs, or for overstepping, pulsed back to the forefront. He could never hate Dream, though. No matter what.

"Love can be easily destroyed," snapped Phaethon, but he was wavering. 

"But it always comes back," said Hob. Unwitting, he looked over his shoulder at Dream.

His friend was already looking directly at him. That tinge of red, so terrible and familiar now, was back along his eyes. He didn't speak, not to Hob. Hob followed his gaze as he looked over Hob's shoulder and spoke to Phaethon.

"Do you have a counter?"

"Love?" Phaethon laughed hysterically. "You brought love to a duel?"

"I believe Hob brings love everywhere he goes," said Dream, and Hob whipped back around to look at him, eyes wide. The tiniest smile was dancing on Dream’s lips.

Then a blade erupted from Hob's chest.

Blood sprayed. His heart stopped beating—actually stopped, he felt it. The sword had pierced right through it. He scrabbled for it with clumsy hands, but the blade shiiiinged back out before he could grab it. 

Blood spattered Dream’s face. Those pretty lips parted, eyes widened, the lordly bearing wiped from his expression leaving only a person, shocked and wounded. Hob would never forget that look of startled horror for as long as he lived. 

Which wasn't looking to be that long.

He fell to his knees, blood pouring from his chest. No use trying to stop it. It would mend itself, in time, but that knowledge did nothing to stop the instinctive rush of fear. He was dying. He was dying.

He fell on his side. Blood soaked his shirt. All told, it took maybe ten seconds after getting speared like a wild hog—

—for the world to completely blink out.

---

Hob's chest ached like a bitch when he woke. 

He was still on the ground, bloody mud around him, soaking his clothes. Oh. That was mud made from his blood. How horrifying. 

He opened his eyes in time to see Dream lifting Phaethon from the ground by his neck. His hand was a vice grip and Phaethon choked, scrabbling at his fingers for breath.

"TREACHERY," Dream snarled, louder than Hob had ever heard him. His voice boomed across the empty park. "I will unmake you."

"I'm not one of your creatures, you can do nothing to me," said Phaethon, but his assuredness flickered.

Dream’s being was a black hole eating light. "Watch it happen."

Hob coughed, dirt trapped in his throat, and shoved himself up on his forearms. Dream froze, and turned slowly to look at him, Phaethon still clasped in his hand like he weighed nothing. Dream’s attention was like being in the path of a comet.

"Hob," he said. "Are you alright?"

Hob knew, in that moment, that if he asked Dream to spare Phaethon from whatever fate he had in mind for him, he would comply. And what power that was. Hob didn't want to be the one doling out mercy or punishment, like a judge at the gates of Hell. But damn if it wasn't a thrill to have Dream look at him like that.

"Of course I'm all right," he said, with a bloody grin. "I'm Hob Gadling."

Dream smiled too, a ferocious smile, like that of a wolf.

Hob didn't tell him to spare Phaethon.

Apparently, they both had some savagery in them.

---

"So why did he kill me?" Hob asked later, when he'd showered all the blood off—God he loved modern showers—and they were both sitting at the kitchen table in his flat, drinking tea. Well, Hob was drinking tea. Dream was just kind of staring at it. "I mean, the cost of losing wasn't even that high. Not on his end, anyway."

"He was not interested in you at all," said Dream, still not looking at him. "I dragged the truth from him while you were… gone. This was all a ploy to get to me. To hurt me—indirectly, of course. Such a lower being could never hurt me directly."

"Wait." Hob tried to grapple with this. "You— are you saying I was like a kidnapped princess?" 

Dream frowned. "If you insist. The point is, he did not plan to let you walk away. By winning, or by killing you, whichever he could accomplish." 

"Damn. Maybe I should have let you fight for me."

"No. You represented yourself admirably. More than admirably. You won the challenge, fairly, and did not try to kill your opponent to do it." 

Praise from Dream always hit Hob somewhere deep. Possibly because Dream only said such things when he meant them. Possibly just because it was Dream saying them.

“Well, thanks for handling him in the end,” Hob said, instead of voicing that sentiment.

Dream nodded solemnly. “I would not allow such harm to befall you without interfering,” he said.

Hob took a sip of his tea to avoid showing how he felt about that quite so obviously on his face.

“Why did he want to hurt you, then?” he asked instead.

“He is the child of a sun deity,” said Dream.

“And… that… means…?”

“Sunlight chases away dreams. We are natural enemies.”

Hob frowned. “What about daydreams?” 

“Daydreams may take place during the daytime, but they exist in the darkness of the inner mind,” said Dream.

“Ahhhh.” Hob nodded sagely. Yeah, sure, that made sense. One hundred percent. Absolutely. “I don’t know, I feel like some dreams can survive in the daylight. Thrive, even.”

“Perhaps next time I have an altercation with a sun deity, I will call upon you,” Dream said, a bite of sarcasm in it. “To see if you can banish them with this mindset.”

“Don’t give me that cheek,” Hob admonished. Dream’s mouth popped open in offense, but Hob plowed on, “Just have an open mind about it, that’s all I’m saying. Who knows, maybe you guys are in a symbiotic relationship or something, instead of enemies. You help people see what could be possible, and they balance it with reality.”

Dream was silent for a moment, thinking. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “But I do not think approaching them in this manner will serve me well, at the moment.”

“Maybe not if they’re going around attacking you,” Hob conceded, and Dream cracked a small smile.

Sun deities, Hob thought. Really, life was full of such strange and interesting things.

“So when you went to Hell,” Hob started. Dream tilted his head, but didn’t seem thrown by the change in subject. “What did you wager in exchange for your helm? The game makes you wager something, right?”

“It was the demon who chose the other side of the wager,” said Dream. “He demanded I remain in Hell and serve him for eternity, if I lost.”

Hob was glad he’d put down his tea, as he’d probably have dropped it. “What? Was the helm really worth that risk?”

Dream leaned back in his chair, lips pressed tight in offense. Or maybe hurt. “I am nothing without my tools of office,” he said.

“That is not true,” said Hob, surprised by his own vehemence. Nothing? He thought he was nothing?

“I could not have restored the Dreaming without them,” Dream insisted.

“Okay, fine. They’re important for your job. But that doesn’t mean you’re nothing without them.” Hob went to lay his hand over Dream’s on the table, hesitated, then decided, fuck it. Dream started when their skin touched, but didn’t move away. Hob repeated his words, with even more emphasis this time. “You’re not nothing.”

Dream met his gaze, challenging. Hob didn’t back down.

“As you wish,” Dream finally said. Which wasn’t actually an agreement. “I can concede that the ruby breaking was ultimately beneficial to my power. But the helm is my symbol of office. To leave it in the possession of a demon is a continual humiliation to my realm and station.”

“Okay, I’m hearing you,” Hob said. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Dream should be able to get his helm back. But he didn’t want Dream to risk horrible punishment for the sake of his pride. Better to slink away alive to try again another day, or so Hob felt. That wasn’t Dream, though.

“Just be careful, okay?” he said. “Even if you lost your helm and everything, and everyone in Hell thought you were pathetic—which, by the way, not sure Hell’s opinion is worth much anyway? but that aside—I’d still rather have you here than the alternative.” He threw Dream a smile, hoping he didn’t take offense to the idea that he could possibly be pathetic. “It wasn’t ‘The King of Dreams and Nightmares, et cetera’ that I missed for all those years, you know?”

“You did not know who I was, then,” Dream pointed out, but he seemed contemplative.

“I liked who I did know,” Hob said. “My friend.”

“Your friend,” repeated Dream slowly. Finally, he did pick up his tea, and took a sip. “A powerful title indeed, if you would have me when it is the only one I carry.”

“If you say so,” Hob said, which brought a small smile to Dream’s lips. If Dream wanted to think of it as a title akin to his kingship and endlessness and whatnot, then Hob would bestow it on him with gladness, and with a warm sense of honor that nestled right in his heart.

“It is…” Dream added, at length, “a meaningful title. To me.”

Rare, those expressions of feeling from Dream. Hob couldn’t help but to bask in them like a cat in a sunbeam. He remembered how Dream had looked at him during the duel. Love always comes back. Worth it, all the strife, to see Dream look at him like that, he thought.

“You defended me,” Dream said. “To prevent me taking the duel in your place. To protect me when it was not warranted.”

Wasn’t warranted. Hob really wished Dream would just learn to let Hob care for him.

"Would have even if I'd known it was you he truly wanted," he said. “I missed my friend for long enough. Wasn’t going to let something happen again when I could get in the way of it.”

“Your friend,” Dream said again. As if savoring the words. His lips tipped up again in a small smile. One just for himself.

Hob squeezed his hand on the table. A grounding touch, a reminder. “And don’t forget it.”

Dream turned his hand over on the table, and squeezed back.

[sentientgolfball]

if you’re still doing the cute lil sentence starters can we do: “Let’s share my coat, since you’re so cold.”

for my beloved swiss alps (swiss/mountain)

WOE SWISSALPS BE UPON YOU

I need to write more of these two OUGH

The snow had stopped some time late, when not a single soul of the Ministry was awake save for the odd rodent. It left the land covered in a thick white blanket as far as the eye could see. The windows were frosted over, concealing the early winter morning from those who began to rise. The air in the abbey was frigid as Sibling and ghoul began their daily chores. The fire ghouls worked hard to shelter the ancient building from the bite of the cold. 

Deep in the ghoul den Swiss is wide awake. He normally stays in bed even after the first rays of the sun call to the little bit of fire in, but today he didn’t get woken from its light. Instead he was jostled from sleep when Mountain left the bed, mumbling something about duties when he pressed a kiss to Swiss’ forehead. He wasn’t fully conscious then, but now that he is he can’t close his eyes. 

He couldn’t even if he wanted to. If he had been more awake when Mountain left he would’ve stopped him. Winter leaves him drained, the frozen earth making it hard to hear his element. Yet Mountain continues to push himself. Swiss thought that by turning up his heat and curling close to his side he’d get Mountain to rest, but the snowstorm ruined his plans. Mountain would not rest until he was certain everything was handled. 

All Swiss can do now is go out there and bring him back. If Mountain won’t listen to his body then he’ll have to listen to Swiss. If he keeps pushing himself he’ll get sick, or worse. He doesn’t know what happens to an earth ghoul who refuses their hibernation and he doesn’t want to find out. He tries not to think about it as he fills a thermos with one of Mountain’s favorite blends of tea. Swiss gets himself bundled up before stepping out into the snowy world the Ministry has become. 

He tries the greenhouse first, assuming Mountain might be tending to some of the more versatile vegetation or pumping the place full of earth magick to keep things alive. He comes up short though, no Mountain in sight. No one in sight actually, not even a Sibling or another earth ghoul. He hums in disappointment before stepping back outside. 

“Alright big guy, where are you hiding?” He muses to himself as he scans the treeline. 

His eyes catch on prints in the snow. When he moves to investigate, he finds that they’d rather large hoof prints. They lead straight into the forest. 

“Bingo.” He smiles and begins to follow the trail. 

They lead him deep into the woods, thinning out every so often as the level of snow changes. He hopes maybe Mountain came out here to nest with Ivy in its den, maybe some weird earth ghoul bullshit calling out to him. He knows he’s wrong, but he can still hope. His only other hope is that Mountain isn’t passed out somewhere out here. Swiss may be strong but he’s not that strong. There’s no way he’d be able to get Mountain back to the Ministry. 

Thankfully it’s not long before he hears the rhythmic sound of someone chopping wood. He picks up his pace just a bit until Mountain finally comes into view. Despite the freezing temperatures, Mountain is sweating. His cheeks are flushed and every breath he takes results in large puffs of steam. He splits another log as Swiss calls out to him. 

“Glad to see you’re not dead!” He shouts as he walks over. 

“Why…would I be dead?” Mountain pants, tossing the two halves of wood onto a sizable pile. 

“Because, my love, you’re an idiot.” 

Before Mountain can even reply Swiss steps in front of him, extending the thermos out to him. Mountain hesitates before sighing and taking it from him. Swiss hums in satisfaction, wrapping his arms around Mountain’s shoulders and moving him to sit on a log. He must really be tired because he doesn’t protest, allowing himself to be guided. 

“Made it just for you. With that one rose blend you like.” Swiss crouches in front of Mountain, resting his hands on his thighs. His eyes shift from their normal black and white to orange and yellow as his fire comes to the surface. Mountain sighs appreciatively as the warmth bleeds through the layers of clothing. 

He uncaps the thermos, humming when the scent of the tea hits. He takes a long drink, practically chugging it. Swiss stares at him. Mountain would never drink so quickly, always going on about savoring the taste. When he finally pulls the container away, Swiss gets a good look at him. Past the flushed cheeks he looks pale. His eyes look sunken, dark lines carved under them. He’s exhausted. 

Swiss reaches out to take the thermos from him when Mountain extends it to him. He hisses when their hands brush against each other, “Momo your hands are ice. You need to take a break.” 

“Can’t. The fire ghouls need more wood for the abbey,” he mutters. 

“The fire ghouls aren’t gonna get any wood if you turn into a popsicle.” Swiss stands from his crouched position. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets before wrapping Mountain up in his arms, heat still radiating off of him. He feels him slump into it, muscles relaxing as he nuzzles his face against Swiss’ chest. He’s anxious to get Mountain back inside, maybe go to the bathing pools and lock the door. Let him soak in the hot water until he’s on the verge of sleep. Get him a hot meal and right back into their nest so he can rest. Even so, Swiss doesn’t rush him. He holds him like this until Mountain relents on his own. 

“I’ll let Ifrit know…” Mountain’s words are muffled where his face is still pressed against Swiss. 

He smiles and kisses the top of his head. He’s not going to say it outloud, but Swiss knows what he means. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to drag him back. 

“Let’s get going. I’ll make you that mushroom soup you like.” Swiss begins to pull away but Mountain tightens his grip. Swiss makes a questioning trill in the back of his throat. 

“Warm.” Is the only explanation Mountain supplies. 

Swiss just chuckles and presses another kiss to the top of his head, “Come on you overgrown caribou, I’ll let you wear my coat since you’re so cold.” 

Swiss shrugs off his canvas coat and drapes it over Mountain’s shoulders. He laces his hands with his, pulling him to his feet. They walk back to the abbey in comfortable silence. Swiss keeps his fire going the whole way, making sure his heart never freezes. 

[neon-junkie]

The Tower

Summary: Gasping for air, unsteady hands, blurred vision - Why did this have to occur during the midst of battle?

At least Tech knows how to help.

Word count: 1.7k

Pairing: Tech x GN!Reader. Can be read as platonic or romantic.

Tags: Panic attacks, Anxiety attacks, Angst, Comfort, Happy ending.

Notes: I've had maaaaany requests for some angsty comfort with Tech. About time I wrote it! Based on my favourite tarot card - The Tower.

When the tower begins to crumble, it's bound to fall.

Built on an uneasy foundation, it was only so long until your walls began to chip away, and with it, the rest of the structure started to collapse.

And whilst you are somewhat used to that sensation, you're not used to this out-of-place timing.

"We'll regroup at the Marauder," Hunter's voice comes through your comm, strapped to your wrist. Tech is the first to reply, mumbling a swift, "affirmative," before returning his full focus to his blasters. He is, as always, quick and precise with them, saving ammunition until he's certain that his shot will be a hit - a trait that he's picked up from one of his brothers.

One by one, the droids fall, and whilst this is child's play, you seem to be struggling.

There's a pain in your chest, a weight, gripping at your lungs and crushing them from the inside out. Your hands, often steady with your weapon, are jittering more and more as every moment passes. And your throat fails to relax, causing your breaths to become shorter, faster, until your head begins to spin from lack of oxygen.

Knowing that you need a moment - a brief moment to set your bearings straight - you duck behind a crate and press your back up against it, barely looking up to watch Tech finish off what's left of your opponents.

This brief moment blurs on for an eternity, and the more that time passes, the worse you become. Your knees come up to press against your chest, palms gripping onto your weapon, as if it's somehow going to steady you during this emotional ride. The sound of your name being called out to you fades from your ears, and a ringing takes its place.

That is, until a firm hand finds your shoulder, and you flinch.

"Oh," Tech sighs, his fingers flexing shut as he watches your eyes meet his. Reddened cheeks, wide pupils, tears threatening to spill from your waterline - something isn't right, but it doesn't take a genius like Tech to realise that.

Rather than placing his hand on you again, Tech speaks your name in a soft tone. "Are you alright?" he brings the important question to light, and from your silent response, he takes it that the answer is no.

Once more, Tech mutters your name, and he's extremely cautious as he gently wraps his hand around your bicep, attempting to offer you some form of stability. "Are you hurt?" Tech questions, and to his surprise, you manage to shake your head.

"Alright," Tech nods, calm and patient. He pauses, his eyes wandering over your form, analysing the state that you're in. By now, you're sobbing, but there's still a washed glisten of fear in your vision, as if you're staring down at your worst nightmare - an imaginary ghost that he cannot see.

Tech crouches down, positioning himself on one knee by your side. His thumb subconsciously begins to rub back and forth against your arm. "I think I understand what's happening," Tech comments. "Although, I do not know how to help. If I can be of any assistance, then please, inform me how."

Sniffles fill the air after you suck in a few deep breaths. "I don't know," your words merge into one, but Tech manages to make them out.

"We need to remove you from this environment," Tech decides, forming the first steps of his recovery mission. "May I take your hand?" he offers.

Tech's heart softens out as you slide your hand into his, allowing him to pull you up with ease. You're a jittering mess, that much is obvious as Tech wraps your arm around his, and begins guiding you out of this hellhole. Thank the Maker that your opponents are down, else that would only worsen things.

"Our safest place is the Marauder. Are you comfortable with me comming Hunter, and asking him to pick us up?"

You instantly nod, knowing that the Marauder brings you a feeling of warmth and security. "But I don't want the others to see me like this," you blurt out, and Tech simply nods his head with understanding.

"Of course," he confirms. "I will lead us onto the shuffle, and keep the others distracted whilst you retreat to your private quarters. I'll inform the others that you need assistance, but sway them from interfering. From there, I'll join you, and we will set our next steps to recovery."

Tech follows up his plan with a simple, "how does that sound?" and lets out a pleasant hum when you agree to it. From there, his plan begins springing into motion, and before you know it, the Marauder is coming into your line of sight with the cockpit door lowered.

As always, Wrecker is waiting at the doorway with his hand extended, always eager to help you on board, but Tech politely pushes past and begins muttering something under his breath. Through Wrecker's fully armoured form, you can tell that he's taken aback, but backs off unquestionably, allowing you to scurry past and disappear down the hallway.

The second that you reach your dorm, the downpour of your tears breaks out into a thunder, and you barely manage to shrug off your coat and shoes before curling up into your bunk.

It takes Tech exactly twenty-three seconds before he's entering your dorm without a knock, seeing as you consented to it beforehand. "Oh dear," he coos as he enters, and his hand hovers over the lock before questioning, "shall I lock it?"

"No, thank you," you shake your head at the same time, and with it, Tech eases off.

A tall glass of water is placed on your bedside table, almost overflowing with how close the water is reaching the rim. Tech takes a seat beside you, and a hand comes to rest on your forearm. To his surprise, you shrug it off, only to wrap your hands around his waist in a desperate attempt for comfort. Tech accepts you, cradling you against his chest, hushing you in a soft tone.

"Let it all out," Tech coos, comforting you as the tears continue to fall. His hands stroke and grasp at your back, attempting to provide as much comfort as he can. Tech is somewhat familiar with this subject, although it's been a long time since he's ever had to support it, and an even longer time since he has received such support.

Tech's last occurrence was back when he was a Cadet. One of his fellow brothers broke down into a state of panic, and Tech, being the sweetheart that he has always been, could only hug them as the moment passed. 

Since the war broke out, it's rare to find a moment for your emotions to overspill, seeing as everyone is always up on their feet - Troopers and Jedi alike. You’re no stranger to the sight of seeing men hunched over at the end of battle, their form exhausted, stress lines present on their skin, and a look of desperation in their eyes. Perhaps they have also noticed that in you. 

The hard form of Tech's chest armour lies pressed against your cheek, and only when your panicked state starts to relax, do you realise how uncomfortable the plastoid surface is. With an uncomfortable expression, you move your head away, gazing up at Tech with tear filled eyes.

"It appears my armour has left its mark," Tech comments, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Remind me to never cry into your armour again," you swat back. Your hand trails over the indent left on your cheek, and for whatever reason, that pulls you from your dark thoughts.

Warm eyes meet yours, still laced with concern, his brows raised accordingly. “I will bear it in mind, if the… incident ever occurs again.” 

“I hope it doesn’t,” you state with a sigh. The sides of your fists come up to rub your eyes, attempting to fresh the life up in them. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you apologise, your hands now finding comfort in your lap, fingertips fidgeting with each other.

“Do not apologise,” Tech responds with sternness. “Please, I will never accept your apology for something like that.” 

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Message received,” you say with a smile. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen again.” 

“And if it does, you know I will always be here to assist you. I am… no stranger to what just happened,” Tech explains, his eyes drifting from yours as his shoulders soften. Now, you’re no longer the saddest person in the room. 

“Care to share?” you question. 

“Ah, well-” Tech waves his hands as his back straightens. “It is not my information to share, but I can inform you that I have seen this happen before. Multiple times, really. Being a Cadet was never easy…” 

Your hand comes to rest on his forearm, a gesture that is not left unnoticed. “I’m sorry,” is all you can sigh. 

“Did I not just inform you to never apologise for such things?” Tech responds in a firm tone, yet there’s a playful smile on his lips. You mimic his expression, soon letting out a laugh. Tech’s hand rests atop of yours, giving you a firm squeeze before suggesting, “shall we go and see the others? Wrecker especially looked awfully concerned about you.” 

“Yes,” you agree with a nod. “I wouldn’t want to keep any of them worrying. I’m alright now.” 

“That, you are,” Tech confirms. He rises to his feet, and offers you a hand. You accept it, steadying yourself on uneven legs, your muscles still relaxing after a storm of negativity. 

Before exiting your dorm, Tech lets out a soft, “do not forget your water,” as he holds the door open for you. A glass of water in hand, and you head out to regroup with your squad, your friend close behind, always ready to have your back - if you ever need it.

[heartfullofleeches]

yes please dear god smile reader is baby

[Very baby. Here's how Yan Scientist and their slime formally met]

"Subject 43? Payment for yesterday's efforts."

"An apple....but you said I could go home."

Feeding day - as if their headache couldn't get any worse. Like common livestock, their possessions squealed and whined about the most senseless things. Pleading for testing to cease; begging to be returned to their families when it was their love ones who sold them to begin with. The scientist would sooner snip out their tongues if it meant a moment of peace, but they were not a tyrant - plus verbal records of their subjects experiences was easier to stomach at night than written. The audio logs had lulled them to sleep better than any pill or liquid could.

"I said it was a possibility - if you did what I asked properly. You may have killed your cellmate, but you did not bring me their eyes. A shame really. I took the time out of my day to prepare your meal by hand. Ah - well, there's someone who will appreciate my efforts more. Tell me, tuna or ham?"

A wet gurgle sounds from the scientist's pocket."

"Both? You greedy devil. I suppose you do deserve something special for putting up with the same pains that I do."

The scientist picks up two sandwiches and smushes them together as the mass in their pocket becomes denser; gooey tendrils slithering up the length of their coat and crawling onto their shoulder as they lift their hand. The blob sucks up the sandwiches into its gelatinous body, wiggling with delight as they're broken down and absorbed into its structure. The scientist pats the gel with one finger causing it to vibrate more violently resulting in a breathy laugh from its owner.

"Alright, we have more subjects to feed. Come on, You - you too."

The scientist snaps their fingers at the Henchman wheeling the cart who closes the cell door as they both exit. The slime creeps down their shirt and through their sleeve as they walk, resting in the scientist's palm. A marvel their little companion was. They wished they had the honor of creating it, but it's origins were a mystery even to them. The scientist found the creature munching away on the undissolved bones of a past test subject. From numerous experiments, the scientist discovered their new lab partner could not only breakdown organic compounds, but most non living object too and had a choice on what it consumed. It made for the perfect little helper to get rid of all the dead bodies and those who oppose them. The best part about the slime was that it had no mouth and therefore the most tolerable member of the team.

The scientist's smile melts as they enter the next cell. The stress that had fled them by the usage of their slime as a stress toy skyrocketed seeing the act of utter betrayal pointed at them. A lackey, standing over a motionless subject - gun raised at their employer. The scientist sighs.

"Please remove your mask."

The Henchman does as told. Figures - there was only one other person the scientist trusted with the codes. They supposed trying to make this a family business was a poor decision.

"Emery - this has got to stop."

A chuckle. "Does it really?"

"You won, just let him go. I know you didn't have the best upbringing, but he still your -"

Emery grits their teeth, squirming the slime so hard it slithers out of their grip. "You don't know shit. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't actually done anything to him - yet. Just locked him down here, with all the others nobody would care to miss. There is no persuading me on this. If you have nothing else to say - do it."

Their Henchman reaches for his gun, Emery rests their hand over his. Through clouded view and reasoning, the figure steadies their gun. They look away, unable to look as they pull the trigger on the once innocent child they knew. Emery doesn't flinch as it fires - a teal web covering the entirety of their chest and dissolving the bullet as soon as it hits. Their attacker looks on in horror, but before they can do anything Emery takes their henchman's gun as their own and fires back, bullet piercing their heart. Emery's head falls, expressionless eyes gazing out at the person left alive - mouthing two words.

"Your fault."

Emery exhales, placing a hand over their chest and gathering the slime into one ball. "One thing after another. Now I have to fire a new head. Eat your meal and return to me when you're done."

They lower the slime to the ground who plops out on the smooth surface - spitting an apple out that rolls at the scientist feet. They pick it up as they walk off, wiping away tears.

-

A picture frame shatters.

"Why would you choose him and not me. Why!?"

The picture holds a smiling, bucktooth child in the arms of their butler as they show off their award for the camera and all to see. The person who taught them everything, the only one there when they had no one. Emery throws an empty bottle at the image, sinking down at the foot of their bed - cradling their arms to their chest.

"why....."

The sound of wet suction weaves into their cries as the slime wrigglies itself beneath the crack in their bedroom door. It inches towards them, shaking violently before spitting up as locket on the floor. Emery goes to grab it, but as they do the smile shoots up their arm and spreads out, and puffs up over their shoulder like a makeshift pillow. Emery cards their fingers their hair, climbing to their feet and pocketing the trinket.

"I guess I do need some rest. Thank you, You. You seem to be the only one I can't trust."

More gurgles.

"I guess I should give you an actual name eventually." They sight - broken body collapsible on their bed and crawling under their blankets with the help of their aid. The slime hops up on their pillow as they raise their head - solidifying as they rest. "Goodnight, You."

That night - Emery had the worse night's rest they ever had in their twenty-seven years of living.

"You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray~"

Is someone ... singing?

"You'll never know, dear. How much I love you-"

The voice sounds so familiar....no... There's more than one. It's hard to remember something so sweet - when all those voices ever did was beg you to stop.

"Please don't take - my sunshine away."

Emery shoots up like a lightning bolt. Their hands search the bed for their glasses which had fallen - finding a squishy, but very real feeling hand beneath their grasp. Emery locates their glasses as the body's see through eyelids peel back.

"Goodnight, You!"

Emery screams - rolling out of the bed in a tanglement of their blankets and obscenities. The interior in the bed sits up, puzzled; bubbles floating through their translucent body as their anxiety peaks.

"Emery.....this you?" The figure points, noting the odd number of fingers on its hand as it looks at theirs. "Mmm wrong...."

Emery's eyes widen as the slime's sixth finger merges into the fifth. "Y-you?...."

The slime chirps. "Emery!"

Emery looks strength in their knees. "What? How?..."

"Ahhh.... You - eat meal... gr...ow better at shape. Too much at one time - hard to understand. Able to single out things Emery say - Emery is... the only one I can trust."

Emery clutches their head. "Ngh..."

"Help?" The slime lunges foward, reverting to its natural state as it crashes into the floor and forming back into its humanoid shell as it catches them before they stumble. It was hard to notice with half of them hanging off the bed, but the slime was massive - size their size if they had to estimate. They bury their face into their hands. "This can't be happy.

The smlie's droppy smile falters. "Wrong? Wanted to make you happy. I..will go back if it makes you happy. Sad Emery...makes me sad too."

Emery looks up at the slime. They raise out their hand, stroking the slime's cold cheek. It hums with a full body shutter - leaning into their palm until their fingers poke through the membrane. Emery retracts their hand, sliding it into their now empty pocket.

"It's fine. I guess we really need to pick a name for you now."

"Mm I pick?"

"Do you have something in mind?"

"Y/n!"

"Where'd you pick up that one?"

The slime points to their head. "Memories. I... like it the most out of them."

"I see... Y/n, it's cute. Alright, Y/n - let's go get some breakfast."

The slime spits a small bag from its stomach contents onto its hand, giving the trail mix too them. That's much more alarming when it's coming out a real mouth and tongue.

"Breakfast!"

Emery takes it with two fingers, holding the dripping bag away from their face. "Thank you, Y/n......at least I have you by my side."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA For Not Budging On A Potentially Unconventional Need?

I (M20+) have BPD and Autism, and when I was younger, they'd both team up to cause me a lot of struggle.

One of the biggest things I used to do was self isolate when I was upset or worried, and just sit around after throwing out some red flags, hoping someone would read my mind and ask me if I was alright.

OBVIOUSLY THAT WASN'T VERY HEALTHY, neither for myself or for others. I definitely think that was an "ESH" time period.

So now that I'm older, in therapy, taking meds, and generally doing better and am a lot happier, I put clear communication as my #1 priority in all of my relationships.

I don't phrase anything in a way that sounds confrontational, I don't tell people what they can or can't do, who they can or can't talk with, don't get jealous too easily, etc. I only ask for honesty, compromise, and mutual respect for boundaries.

I really thought I was doing well for myself by swapping "I won't communicate at all" out for "I need to communicate often"

But one thing that I just can't seem to stop is the paranoia when it comes to people I'm particularly close and very vulnerable with; I'll notice certain changes in their demeanor and worry it's because I've done something wrong, or that they don't like me as much anymore. Sometimes I CAN brush it off and wait it out until I'm inadvertently proven otherwise.

But if it's not going away, and I'm worried it's just getting worse, I need to just ask for their honest thoughts and get it over with. If for some reason they were actually upset, my intention would NOT be to double down or lash out. I just DON'T want to be strung along by a lie, as has happened!

This isn't really that common of an occurrence either. Maybe every few weeks during particularly hard periods.

I don't feel this way about people I'm not very close to, and people who do manage to get very close to me know this about me; I keep no secrets about my mental health and try to be extremely upfront. A lot of people will say at first that they understand, but over time, I'll eventually get that flack and heartache from them, saying that it's just too exhausting for them. At best, I'm kinda teased for it. It's made me feel like I haven't made as much progress in my recovery as I thought I had, which sucks.

It's not me starting arguments or fights, or accusing them of anything. Just me saying "Hey, I've been feeling a little paranoia lately, is everything okay between us? Is there anything we should talk about?" or something like that.

I'm really conflicted about it.

On one hand, I feel like if things are okay, it shouldn't be difficult or tiring to say "Nope, everything's alright, dw!" If you still like me in a certain way, why would it be tiring to just say so? It takes maybe five seconds to type/say. The only way I can see it being tiring is if they were just telling me white lies about how they felt, and had to maintain the act.

On the other hand, I know BPD isn't without its delusions, and that Autism isn't without its "misunderstanding of social norms". I know I'm likely to see things differently from others. I know it's not exactly EASY to love someone like me. Maybe it IS too much of a demand, and I've just convinced myself it's not?

This IS something I'm trying to work through in therapy regardless, but I just worry that it isn't a symptom that will ever fully go away, and instead it needs to be worked with.

Am I the asshole for standing by that, at LEAST for now? Is it fair? Or is that too much of a need for people to reasonably accommodate? Am I just not trying hard enough to be better?

If I ever got particularly close to someone again, would I be an asshole for again insisting that if I need reassurance to dismiss an oncoming spiral, they should be able to meet that need instead of asking that I keep the paranoia to myself and just deal with it on my own? Which may or may not work, or even make things worse.

I know it can make people feel like I don't trust them. That much I do understand! But I've tried telling them that it's not that I don't trust or respect them, I don't trust or respect myself. I dunno if that makes sense to anyone without BPD, though.

This is both a "Was I the asshole?" and a "Would I be the asshole?" ask I guess, lol

[multi-fandom-imagine]

-Jealousy || Leon S. Kennedy || *Rewrite*

Summary: Leon Scott Kennedy was not the type of man to get jealous, it’s not like he had something to get jealous all. Until Chris Redfield started to show his face around you. That nasty feeling building up in his chest though it only made matters worse when Claire let it slip that her brother may have feelings for you too. Now Leon hopes that he didn’t miss his chances with you.

A/n: flashback is Italicized, female reader, rewrite of this fic

Warnings: Blood, bit of gore { Broken bone.}

Leon did not get jealous, at least that is what he kept telling himself to help him sleep at night. Though of course the very thing that he claimed he didn’t get jealous about was sitting across from him. You were talking about some case, some woman named Mia Winters.

Not that he cared, why should he care about some bio terrorist. No he cared about why Chris suddenly seemed to hanging around you more.

“Leon!”

“What?” Blinking a few times he adverted his gaze frowning for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I was just trying to…are you okay…you look exhausted Leon.” You frowned leaning forward to get a good look at the man, you could see dark circles forming under his eyes.

Scoffing, Leon adverted his gaze. “I’m find Doc, you don’t gotta worry about me alright.” He did his best to not let his feelings show through but you were always concerned for him.

Placing your hand on top of Leon’s you gave it a small squeeze. “You know you can tell me anything right.”

Shaking his head, Leon did his best to give you a weak smile. The warmth of your hand brought a flood of memories back. The shared kisses, the nights where neither of you had gotten much sleep and of course he had to blow it, end whatever you both shared.

Self sabotage at its finest.And even after all of that, you still stayed by his side.

“So what’s with the get up.” Leon did his best to divert the conversation to something else, something that wouldn’t make him realize his feelings for you.

Snorting, you lent back into the chair giving him a slight smile. “Well that was what I was talking about for the last ten minutes.” You teased. “I got asked…recommended actually, I’m heading out to Louisiana.”

Shaking his head, Leon’s eyes narrowed taking in the blue Umbrella logo on your shirt. “What do you mean you’re heading out to Louisiana? Who recommend you to go?”

Sighing, you frowned as your phone chimed. Pushing away from the table you then stood up. “Chris did…look I have to go alright. I’m not going to argue about this, it’s a long flight and I don’t want this to be on my mind.”

Leon tried not to wince from the sound of the chair scraping, though he did feel a slight weight lift off his shoulders feeling you press his lips to his forehead, he wanted it grab you. He wanted to tell you how he felt. “Hey! Stay safe for me will ya.”

Giving him a small wink you lingered by the door, your fingers clutching the handle. “Only if you get a proper nights rest for me Kennedy.”

Opening his mouth, he sighed giving you a small wave as you slipped out the door and into Jeep, though it didn’t take long for him to finally notice Redfield watching him.

When you get back, when you get back he’ll tell you how he felt. He just hoped that he didn’t fuck up his chances with you.

+•+

The flight to Louisiana was long, you normally were able to enjoy these types of flights. You were able to talk to the team, talk to Chris but now. Right now you had way to much on your mind.

“Something on your mind?”

Turning to Chris you let out a forced laugh. “A little…it’s just. Leon and I were talking and before I left, he just looked like he had something to say.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Chris peered out the window. “Maybe he wanted to confess his feelings to you.”

Barking out a laugh, you narrowed your eyes. “Leon confessing his feelings to me. Are we talking about the same man? Besides we ended that, pretty sure he’s still hung up on Ada.” You muttered.

“I wouldn’t be so sure on that.”Sighing, Chris patted you knee. “Get some rest alright. I’ll wake you of something happens.” He joked.

Shaking your head, you let out a small scoff though it didn’t stop you from falling asleep but once you felt the jolt from the helicopter your eyes snapped opened.

“Sleeping beauty finally wake?”

Turing your attention to Chris you were about to reply until you noticed a woman laying unconscious. “Is this.”unbuckling your seatbelt you rushed over to the unconscious woman.

“This is Zoe Baker, she’s stable and luckily for us she’s not infected. Can’t say same to Mia Winters, don’t even have a body to bag.”

Frowning you opened your med beg still examining the woman, she may have been stable but it didn’t look good for her. “She has a high fever, I need to get her the proper-.”

Your voice getting cut off from Chris’s shout, you didn’t even realize the helicopter starting to take off, your body tumbling out of the side hitting the ground hard as you rolled hitting a man. “Shit. Ethan Winters I presumed.”

“Ya…who the hell are yo-Shit watch out!” The man shoving you out of the way of getting swiped by something, though with your gaze glued to the B.O.W in front of you, you barley had a chance to dodge a large crate falling towards you.”

The container to take out the B.O.W falling on your leg, a cry tearing from your lips as Ethan rushed to your side moving the object off your leg. “Of fuck…is that your bone.”

Gritting your teeth you had to bite back another scream. Blood pouring out your wound, the broken bone poking through the flesh. “Shut the fuck up and take that bitch out.” You growled placing the gun in his hand. You tried to stay conscious, but the pain was overwhelming. You listened to voices shouting around you, a horrified scream before everything went black.

+•+

You were used to hospitals, you worked in them, you weren’t used to being a patient in one though. Letting your body slump in the bed you did your best to remember everything that happened. The man Ethan Winters, he stayed by your side until he knew you were okay.

Zoe Baker, she was alive thanks to Ethan too. You remember seeing her briefly. You heard Chris talking about Mia, you weren’t sure how to feel about her death but at least the man can move on with his life and Leon. You remembered seeing Leon when you got administrated into the hospital, you weren’t sure you ever seen the man look so concerned.

So scared.

Gritting your teeth you did your best to sit up only to feel a hand on your shoulder pushing you back down on the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going.”

“Leon?”

Chuckling the man sat back down in his own chair, he looked so drained. “The one and only.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I can leave if you want.”

Wincing you shook your head adjusting you body as you reached out to grasp his hand. “No…stay…please.”

“I was joking y/n....I wasn’t going to leave you…I mean not unless you kicked my as out but shit I gotta say...seeing you like that scared the crap out of me.”

“Leon.”

“No…I have to say this. I’m sick of being a coward. I care about you. I care about you and I know you can do better than me.”

Rolling your eyes you let go of his hand to instead you placed your hand on his cheek. “I love you too.”

“What!”

Shrugging your shoulders you dropped your hand relaxing into the bed. “Chris may have mentioned something like that.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Opening on of your eyes, you gave him a teasing smile. “You know what would be better, you kissing me.”

“I..” sighing. Leon shook his head giving you a slight smile bending down as he captured your lips in for a kiss. “Get some sleep for me, will you.”

Returning the kiss, you let your fingers dig into his arm. “No promises.”

+•+

Checking his gun Leon jumped up from his seat as medics rushed by, he barley registered your leg in a make shift cast, narrowing his eyes he watched Chris walk by but before he could get any further he could help but grab his arm.

“What the hell! You were supposed to watch her not have her get rushed off to the fucking hospital!”

Turning to face him Chris was alway worried enough but hearing Leon remind him of his mistake only pissed him off even more.

“Don’t you think I know that!” Shaking his head he rubbed his neck. “You should see her?” As much as he didn’t want to admit it Chris knew how the man felt and he was positive of your own feelings.

“Why?”Leon frowned eyeing him.

“She called out your name before she blacked out...try not to blow it Kennedy because I will be their to pick up the pieces if you fuck shit up.”

Watching him walk off Leon squared his shoulders waiting for the okay to see you and taking his advice Leon knew what he had to do.

[babyjakes]

weaponized incompetence. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | jan '23 blurb night

summary | when faced with orgasm troubles, who could be better to trust than an expert in the field? surely he has nothing but sound intentions...

pairing | doctor!andy barber x reader

warnings | andy presents as soft and kind enough but what he is doing is so evil and cruel, all the gaslighting in the world, alllll the yummy medfet elements (or at least most of them): exam table, gloves, restraints, etc., clit cream hehe <3, reader isn't unwilling but she is extremely distressed, crying, humiliation, clinical babble, encouragement, REAL PUFF PUFF BEHAVIOR, edging, no happy ending >:^(

word count | 628

requested by anon | Reader visits Dr. Mean (Ari/Steve/Bucky) because she can’t orgasm. Dr.(whoever you chose) decides to help her as only his fingers, mouth, cock, med equipment can, but realizes if he makes her cum- she won’t need to come back. So he stops right at the edge. Every time. Several times in one session. He tells her how worried he is she can’t cum, and if she tries on her own or with a non medical professional, she may get worse/sick/hurt.

an | ohh bestie this is so sexy of you, i love all of this hehe <3 i hope it's alright that i went with andy, i just thought he could fit this idea really well (and we have plenty of stevie and ari coming later lol!) thanks so much for sharing, you slutty mastermind :^)

"C'mon, sweetheart. You're doing so good for me."

With the tops of your calves straining against the strong nylon restraints holding you in place, you did your best to keep your sobs at bay as your chest rose and fell heavily with each agonizing breath. You weren't sure how long you had been there, strapped to that dreaded exam table with your legs spread wide and high, the calm, steady presence of Dr. Barber placed directly at the entrance to your most private places as he tried to assist you in your seemingly hopeless conquest of achieving an orgasm. You had gotten close, painfully close, so many times at the doctor's skillful hands. But for some reason, you just couldn't manage to cross the finish line.

As the dark-haired man pulled away momentarily to change his gloves, the old pair dripping from your heightened state of arousal, you blinked back further tears. What if it's hopeless, you wondered. The sound of Dr. Barber snapping on a new pair of gloves made you wince; gazing up at you sympathetically, he spoke with a softened tone. "Here, I have one more thing I wanna try. It's a sensitizing cream," he explained as he grabbed the packet from the tray beside him, "nothing scary or painful. But it should help increase your sensitivity to my touch."

He squeezed out a fair amount of the clear gel onto his gloved pointer finger, warming the product between its pad and his thumb before trailing his gaze back up to your abused sex. Focusing in on your little bundle of nerves, he gathered it between his finger and thumb like a little bead of clay, rolling it tenderly to cover the entire nub in the punishing paste. Its effects could be felt almost instantly; with more tears welling in your eyes, a loud whimper sounded in your throat. "Shhh, you're alright," the doctor crooned, his other hand coming up to tease a few fingers at the entrance to your soaked heat. "Here we go, honey. One more time for me," he mumbled as he began fucking two of his large digits back into you, continuing to roll your puffy clit between fingers as it only swelled further in size.

"Your clitoris is responding well to the cream, I can feel it throbbing against me," he noted as your heart began to race at the building sensations. "Your Grafenberg spot seems to be in perfect working order too," he added as he thrust his fingers up against the soft, squishy ceiling of your inner walls. "Can you feel it building up inside of you, y/n? Are you starting to get the urge to let go, to release?"

"Yes, yes-" you panted, squeezing your eyes shut as you strained once more against the heavy restraints the doctor had put in place. "Please doctor, I-I can feel it coming, I-..."

"That's it, sweetheart. Almost there. Just gotta..." But just as you felt yourself reaching the precipice of your pent-up frustrations, Dr. Barber's voice cut in like a hot knife as things began to sputter out, the feelings dying down to your absolute horror. "Oh dear, again...?" he sighed as he spread back the hood of your clit with his thumb and forefinger, watching the poor little nub twitch and spasm in hopeless need. At your realization of yet another failure, you couldn't help it; heaving, you began to sob loudly in despair. "Shhh, shhh," the doctor tried to console you, snapping off his gloves before wheeling his stool up to sit at your side, reaching out a consoling hand to stroke your arm. "It's alright, sweetheart. We'll keep trying. I won't give up on you, y/n. You just have to keep working with me, okay?"

[winterwhisperz-blog]

Hello!! I don't know if your TS head-canons still open (sorry if not) but can you make TS head-canons about MC almost dying? Like almost killed by souless, the curse is getting worse, almost died because someone stab them? Is your choice btw~ if you can't do it it's fine~ and sorry for my bad grammar, English is not my first language 🙂

(been craving come ANGST this day-)

Hi hi !!! They’re still open yes! I’ll have em open for awhile since I love doing these 😭 tysm for the ask !!

(I’m sorry for taking so long btw, writer’s block has been beating my butt)

I was only able to do three of the Li for now, since I was writing so much my tumblr was beginning to glitch so UHMMMM I’ll have to do a part two !! :,)

ALR LES GET INTO IT

The Lis Reacting To Mc Almost dying (P1)

Warnings: Angst,mentions of death, blood, violence, please proceed carefully if any of these may trigger you !!

Notes: GN MC, creative liberty, not proofread

Ais

Oh dear, NOW THIS WOULD BE SAD

Let’s say you were out at night, just heading back after spending time with Ais. Your head still humming with thoughts of his smile, his voice, and how he always makes you feel.

You get lost in the thoughts for a bit, forgetting your surroundings as you pet Princess goodbye.

The streets are foggy and cold, masking anything in the dark as harmless silhouettes.

You don’t notice until it’s too late—

Hot breath on the back of your neck, the growl of some unearthly shadow

A soulless, large and already dripping with blood—you leap forward just as its jaws slam shut

You’ve been in this situation before, you know what to do— you run

But it’s dark, and the moon, as if she’s just as afraid, flees fully into the horizon. Freezing you in pitch black.

You don’t see the rock in front of you, and fall face first into the bloody swamp of the wasteland.

You reach out, trying to both get up, to escape— to fight.

But it’s pointless, you’re trapped. There is no way out.

There’s pain, a scream, and you drown in the dry, suffocating dark.

The last thing you hear is a blood-curdling roar before ice encases your body, forcing you still.

….

Hesitant red light splashes across the lids of your closed eyes, a dullness like a soaked blanket over your form.

A low hum reaches for your ears, sounding faintly familiar. Comforting in a way that urges your chest to loosen, for your mouth to release sharp breath after breath.

But while the hum sharpens into a voice, so does the dullness into pain

The ice that had been embracing your body bursts into scathing fire, burning through your skin and sending a scream from your lips.

Something soft envelopes your legs and sides, a warmth that slowly soothes the pain. Something smooth comes to rest over your brow, a palm—a thumb gently caressing your skin.

“You’re going to be alright, Sparrow, breathe.”

You know that voice, and something about it makes you rest. Allowing the pain to slowly be smothered.

Opening your eyes, your vision clears to see a pair of red eyes and horns. Ais.

He’s the one caressing your forehead, the other wiping blood and sweat from your neck. There’s another figure working beside him, tall with sparkling eyes. Kuras.

You can see he’s bandaging you up, a bucket of blood-touched water sitting on the faraway counter. You’re laying down on a table—the same table from your first time in Eridia.

When the pain has finally vanished completely, and you’re fully awake, Kuras checks up once more on you before leaving you with Ais.

“What happened?” You mutter, trying to sit up and having Ais’ arms hold your back as you stumble.

“You were attacked by a soulless. Princess tugged you back—and I brought you to Kuras.”

The way he’s speaking is a little odd. It’s stiff, like he’s holding something back. His eyes darker, skin pale with lingering fear. “Ais?”

At your words, he brings you into an embrace. Taking a deep breath as you fall against his chest. You wince a little, and he loosens his grip. Though refusing to let go.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and neither do you.

Next time you spend the day with Ais, you’re also spending the night. He’s never letting this happen again.

I like writing angst >:]

I wanted to make it a bit longer but I don’t want to make these too too long

Leander

Hehehehe okay okay >:) so so so

You’re out in the middle of the day, the streets bustling and loud

The Sun, surprisingly, is out and showering the city with light and heat

Your bandages mixed with sweat ??? Not good not good

You weren’t prepared for it being hot today, especially with how cold and dreary Eridia usually is. And seems like, no one else was either. But the vendors are not letting it go to waste

They reach out for passersby’s, shouting and presenting the catches of today, along with an array of different trinkets and materials

You can’t help be a little curious, but once you stop in the road, people crowd by, bumping into you and sending whirls of panic each time.

You don’t notice that one particular shove scrunches up the bandages on your left arm.

Annoyed at the contact, you huff, preparing to just forget it and come back tomorrow—

“Ah, you there!” One of the vendors have spotted you, and without a care, they reach for your hand. Your left hand.

“Care for a… a…” they trail off, eyes losing their energetic glow. You know that look—and you look down to see their hand clasped around your bandages, palm brushing a cut in the protection, skin on your curse.

Your whole body goes numb in panic, and you quickly wretch your hand away, hiding both under your cloak. But it’s too late, it always is.

The vendor ducks their head, bangs obscuring their eyes as they clench the sides of their booth— veins pulsing under the skin. Then they start to laugh.

Your world comes crashing down.

Strangers don’t notice anything amiss, even as the laughing becomes maniacal. Or if they do notice, they only walk along faster.

The Vender lunches for your neck, taking you to the ground in a puff of dust. You slam hard against the road, hands clawing your throat.

If you how to fight, you manage to get them off, if you don’t, you shout for help, slamming your hands against the vendor in an attempt to shove them off.

The heat of the day blares against your eyes as you struggle.

(If you got him off thanks to your ability to fight, you knock into a few others, accidentally brushing against enough that you UHHH get outnumbered by people inflicted by your curse)

Things start to blur, limbs begin to weaken, and no one dares to help.

Of course, until someone does.

“Hey, get off of them!”

Bursts of air flood back into your lungs, hands coming to lift you up and drag you away.

“Die, die, die die die die!”

(This is really creepy if you fought him off at first and got outnumbered- just a bunch of crazy people chanting at you like this what the heck 😭)

You want to cover your ears, to block out the noise, the familiar, gut-wrenching voices that have followed you everywhere and refuses to leave.

Tears stream down before you can stop them as you run, barely noticing it was Leander who saved you.

You don’t take in the comforting coolness of the Wet Wick as Leander leads you inside, closing the door behind you. You barely hear his voice as he guides you back into your room. You only distantly feel the brush of his hands wiping away your tears.

“Mc… Mc? Can you hear me?”

You don’t answer for a long time, and only do along with a weakened sob.

“I’m a monster.”

There’s a silence before Leander gently starts to unwrap your bandages— you pull back instinctively.

“No, no- I can’t. I can’t.”

He pauses momentarily, fingers lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Mc, you aren’t going to hurt me. I told you I would be there for you, and I am.”

Something about how he says it makes you nearly believe it. You stay still, allowing him to continue unwrapping your bandages. He lifts your palm to his cheek, leaning into you.

His free hand coming to softly caress the golden lines on your skin.

“You aren’t a monster, to me.”

Afterward, the crazed person(s) were silently taken care of. Those who witnessed too closely, bribed to turn the other way.

Kuras

OKAY OKAY SO

I think it’d fun going off of that Kuras tour thingy where we spot him coming back from the wastes

We know he goes there, and now you’re determined to find out exactly why

So one day, without his knowledge, you venture out there, following him.

He’s fast, even more so than usual since he thinks there’s no one he needs to keep pace with

The day is quickly fleeing, your energy slumping entirely on the boost of curiosity

Your feet are becoming heavy, eyes collecting the dust of the waste so you occasionally wipe at them. But the second time you do so, you look ahead— seeing nothing but emptiness in front of you. Only the thin line of the fading light falling on the horizon.

Kuras has disappeared.

You’re alone—too far from Eridia to make it home before night

The cold can sense fear, gripping onto your throat and making your heart shiver under the skin. Shadows are watching you, whether they be soulless or…something else

You don’t want to call out, not exactly ready to face Kuras’ disappointed stare.

And still…you came out here to find out where he was going. Why stop now?

Swallowing your nerves, you plow forward.

Kuras couldn’t have gotten too far—you would spot him again soon. And once you figure out what he’s doing, you’ll never venture out here again. You’ll go home and put your curiosity to bed.

But the more you stride, the more the stars look like eyes, the cold becoming bites of teeth on your face, the wind a voice warning you to go back.

You start running without meaning to, the wind becoming a howl on your back.

Before you can stop yourself— you shout.

“Kuras!”

Something morphs in front of you, something dark and wicked

A soulless, you think. A foul, horrible soulless that doesn’t scream like the others. It stares at you, watching. Knowing you can’t go back now.

You reach hurriedly for a weapon, you know well enough to bring one always, but something stops you from using it. There’s something about this soulless—it has a mind of its own.

You heard of these types before, the ones that weren’t just mindless monsters. But you weren’t prepared to come across one—alone.

Shivering with panic, you watch as it prowls closer—and opens its mouth to swallow you whole.

The cold wraps itself around you, and just then you snap out of your daze to use your weapon. You didn’t expect the beast to be stronger.

It takes you down, forcing you to stare up at the hollow, but knowing eyes.

It opens it’s mouth, and laughs.

It lowers to rip into your throat— but it never reaches you.

A flash of golden light shakes the night, a blaze of warmth that burns your eyes and forces you to turn away.

Waves of heat pulses like an army of heartbeats, the wind turns into the mighty flapping of wings. Fear, joy, terror, elation— it all floods into your veins as you’re bathed with holy light.

There’s a screech, then a bang

You turn your face to gaze into the glow, seeing only a silhouette of something large and ancient before it all fades into a man you know well.

“Kuras?” You weakly mutter as he kneels beside you, cradling your thrumming head onto his lap.

“Be still, MC.”

You expected those words from him, the polite comfort of a doctor. But what you don’t expect is a kiss on your forehead, the voice of someone so calm to shiver with slight fear, longing.

“I have you now.”

If it was said by anyone else, it would sound like a generic word of support, but said by Kuras, it was an oath. A prayer of a priest who promised themselves to God.

OKAY THAT WAS RLLY LONG- I apologize- I just love Kuras a lot

Anyway !! That’s the first batch :] ! I hope you enjoyed !!!

I hope you have an amazing day, see a butterfly, eat lots of good food and have your favorite song play first in shuffle !! 🫶

[chycoin]

Last part of my acoustic review!

First Previous

(Ik @lizaluvsthis pointed this out but I still wanted to talk about this scene as well)

When Smg3 hides Mario inside his hat for almost a good minute, Mario jumps out of there claiming that Smg3 needs to use shampoo or in other words needs a good shower.

Now, if we look into the latest video from the SMG4 Crew, if you’re one of those people who looks closer into the background details to find lore or clues that can lead up to a possible plot in future episodes of the series, you can see that Smg4 has researched if Smg3 takes a shower (as if Google is going to know that ._.xD) because he also has noticed that 3 stinks to the point that is kinda unbearable to be near him and even calling him out on it.

During the writing of this, I was talking to my partner and pointing out that Smg3 hasn’t taken a shower in days if not weeks, which I didn’t expect to have the same idea as him about the reason that he hasn’t taken a shower could be because maybe the guy is depressed since having depression can lead to not care about your hygiene that much or even yourself.

Which I’m going say that its probably going to get worse but who knows, maybe after this episode Smg3 will open up more but trust takes a long time to build up and specially when you lived almost your entire life alone, with no one to trust or cry to. Being in someone else’s shadow and everyone just viewing you as just the bad guy and never looking underneath that evil persona that you built up over the years.

But moving on, after Mario complains about Smg3’s odor. Getting poisoned, carried has a football, kidnapped and pulled like a rag doll…

Some may think that Smg4 still sees Smg3 as someone selfish and all but here’s the thing…

How was he supposed to know that Smg3 wasn’t feeling alright, if 3 isn’t letting his feelings out and just bottling himself to the point he snaps to Smg4 and tells him how he feels. How he’s been viewing himself as. Not caring anymore if Smg4 judges him or makes fun of him for being vulnerable, just like it happened when they wrecked his studio.

He even sounded like he was about to breakdown in front of Mario and Smg4, definitely a lot of emotion right there. To which I’ll say that James really did a good job with the voice acting👌

Now that Smg4 knows how 3’s been feeling, he does what a friend does and he well said it at the beginning of the episode

He lets Smg3 have the USB that was going to make 4’s channel popular, so 3’s café can be popular instead because he knows how much it matters to Smg3. He knows that this is going to give 3 that love and fame he’s been wanting for years.

If you guys remember that Sun and Moon example I did on the first part of this long ass review.

If I well said that the moon (Smg3) can’t shine that bright because is just a floating rock, it doesn’t mean the moon can’t receive help from the sun (Smg4) to shine a little bit by sharing some of that light. So, that’s what happened here.

(I expected a hug but I still like the fist bump 🤲✨)

After a beautiful and sentimental moment between these goobers, they see a light that at first they thought it was a sunrise but of course, they forgot that the dump was having a daily clean up that same night and like any normal human being, they would freak out and try to escape the place before getting blown to ashes.

Smg3 blames Mario for running away and Mario tells him that if only they knew how to BLJ, they wouldn’t have taken that long to find him. That’s when Smg4 has an idea to get them out of there, telling Mario to BLJ for their lives.

Eventually they get out of there and land on 3’s CnB. Smg3 grabs the video and starts to upload it to endorse his café buuut the plot twist is that the video with “Michael Jordan” didn’t have “Michael Jordan” and instead had a snail with name of “Mikel Jorden” endorsing the café.

Here’s where I question if Smg4 really know’s how to read? Like I get it, people can misread and it isn’t crime at all but man, there’s no way you didn’t catch the differences between “Michael Jordan” and “Mikel Jorden” ._.xD

Anyways, Smg3 was about to hand 4’s ass to him, after realizing he went through all that trouble for nothing and Smg4 wasn’t going to do anything about it since he would’ve probably done the same thing in 3’s place.

Though, someone enters the place, to which 3 & 4 turn around to see who entered the establishment and realized it was no other than Mikel Jorden and a bunch of more snails entering the place, causing the place to temporarily close down due to snail infestation.

AND THAT’S IT!!!!

My final thoughts of this episode:

Without a doubt one of my favorites. James really did a great job with the voice acting in this episode.

He’s done a great job with Smg3 over the course of the series but this episode he really sent it with the emotion 👍

The jokes landed nicely, making me laugh more than once of course.

And finally, the plot was really good. I like that we get to dive into Smg3’s character and see what’s going on with him a little more. I wonder what other things the next episodes will have in store to discover ;)

With that said, that’s it from me.

Thanks for reading this attempt of a review I did and sorry for taking long to finish this part but I kind of procrastinated this and not to mention I had other stuff going on. If ya’ll find grammar errors, misspellings, or some misplaced arguments or thoughts, that’s because I’m no good writer nor reviewer.

Though, I wanted to give it a try since I’ve been a fan of reading and watching this kind of stuff and I’ve seen a lot of people sharing their opinions and povs about Smg4 episodes, which gave me the courage to give this a try.

Will I do this again? Idk, maybe if I get the courage to try this again but let’s see what happens ;)

Welp that’s it (frs this time xd)

Have a goodnight guys *passes out*

[mikka-minns]

Snowblind x Mk1 intros

(this is only part one, there Will probably be another)

The names in the parenthesis() are what the characters are refered to as in the intros themselves

Kinda messy

Also, there are some Ships implied, so beware. This is all just crack and headcanons, nothing serius

(this has been on my drafts for a month, so sorry i havent posted earlier)

@dinainwater @laismoura-art

Sb!Kuai Liang vs Sb!Hanzo

Kuai: Just like the old times, eh?

Hanzo: only this time,  you wont beat me

Hanzo: I hope i am worthy of this fight

Kuai: im still not used to these compliments

Kuai: i cannot understand how Someone can be so power-hungry

Hanzo: because you are the kindest of souls, Kuai Liang

Hanzo: You know, i actualy won our last fight

Kuai: no you didnt! I had you on chokehold with my legs-

Mk1!Bi han (sub zero) vs Sb!Kuai Liang (Kaui)

Sub zero: in your timeline, you are the lin kuei grandmaster?

Kuai: i was.

Sub zero: i can only hope my other self did better than i

Kuai: its not Just about our mistakes, but the ways we try and fix them

Sub zero: it is weird seeing my-

Kuai: younger brother be older than you? *chuckle* i understand

Sub zero: it is too late to make things right.

Kuai: only if you are truly heartless and i can see you arent

Kuai: even if they dont forgive you, you can all move forward

Sub zero: but is it together? Or did i doom our brotherhood?

Kuai: for the last time, Kenshi isnt a landowner!

Sub zero: all right! Cuz i am not paying double rent!

Sb!Kuai Liang (Kuai) vs mk1!Johnny Cage(Johnny)

Johnny: so who is this "Simone" chick Kenny keeps talking about?

Kuai: i dont think you understand. She is LITERALY a chicken

Johnny: so who is Kenny's other dad?

Kuai: i dont even know who is the first one?!

Johnny: alright, Rocky... or Batman?!

Kuai: You cant possibly make me choose!

Kuai: me? In a movie? You're as crazy as Johnny from my timeline

Johnny: If two of us cant convince you, then its you whose crazy

Johnny: dude, you are such a dil-

Kuai: do not finish that sentance, Johnathan

Johnny: holy shit, we are technicaly in-laws!

Kuai:*sigh* it could have been worse i guess

Johnny: never Thought a king of hell would be my sorta-father-in-law!

Mk1! Johnny Cage (Johnny) vs Sb!Hanzo

Hanzo: I just hope you're better than most of my in-laws

Johnny: so you and Kuai, huh?

Hanzo: what about us? We're on good terms

Hanzo: So you're the Johnny Cage Kuai told me about?

Johnny: first name basis? I think i see whats going on!

Kenshi: you seem like a good friend of my other self

Johnny: You are a king?! Awesome!

Hanzo: its not as fun as you may think.

Mk1!Johnny Cage(Johnny) vs Sb!Kenshi

Johnny: I dont know if you're old enough to know the truth

Johnny: so who is this "Simone"?

Kenshi: oooh! You gotta meet her, she's great!

Johnny: gee, Kenny, how come big Kano let you have two dads?

Kenshi: he... What?

Kenshi: how did you get ahold of Sento?

Johnny: it was easy. Keeping it was hard

Johnny: duuude, no way you never watched Rocky!

Kenshi: we dont have movies in the wastelands.

Mk1!Kenshi Kenshi vs Sb!Kenshi

Kenshi: You fight the black dragon on your own?

Sb!Kenshi: had Kuai not shown up, i wouldnt be here

Kenshi: your mentor sounds like a wise man

Sb!Kenshi : he threw a melon at me

Sb!Kenshi: You never chase chickens as training?

Kenshi: *chuckles* your mentor sounds like a fun guy

Sb!Kenshi: You dont know who Simone is?

Kenshi: i've never met anyone with that name in my life

Kenshi: hearing of the wastelands, i am gratefull for Liu Kang

Sb!Kenshi: realy? Well i think he could've done better

Scorpion: i can tell you and that scorpion arent brothers

Mk1!Kuai (scorpion) vs Sb!Kuai

Kuai: i think everyone can

Kuai: so in this timeline, you are scorpion?

Scorpion: i see even within my other selves i am different

Scorpion: what happend with your Bi han?

Kuai: retired. Kind of. He mostly just judges my tastes now

Scorpion: You area farmer? Just like Raiden!

Kuai: Raiden?

Kuai: You seem fond of your Raiden

Scorpion: he is a great ally and an even greater friend

Kenshi: Kuai still wont tell me what your promise was

Sb!Kenshi vs Sb!Hanzo

Hanzo: then i wont disrespect him by talking behind his back

Hanzo: I would never hurt Kuai Liang

Kenshi: i cant trust you on just your word

Kenshi: so what are you the king of?

Hanzo: hell, Neatherrealm, ga-

Kenshi: why does everyone think im Kuai's son?

Hanzo: You arent?!

Sb!Kenshi vs Sb!Kuai

Kenshi: i still havent thanked you for saving me

Kuai: there's nothing to thank me for

Kenshi: what is that promise about?

Kuai: nothing that concernes you, dont worry

Kuai: for the love of god, dont befriend anyone named Cage

Kenshi: why? He's such a cool guy!

Kuai: so, Johnny showed you some movies?

Kenshi: Yes aaand now i know where you got the ideas for our training

Kuai: you're lucky you cant see the terrible costumes in ninja mime

Kenshi: but it sounds so fun! What is mime?

Liu kang: im glad Hanzo and you are allies in your timeline

Kuai: You can call us cousins too, since you already started with that shit

Kuai: what the hell were you thinking?

Liu Kang: only of whats best for earthrealm

Shang: You aged so gracefully

MK1!Shang Tsung (Shang) vs Sb!Kuai

Kuai: say that again and you wont age at all

Shang: if that Hanzo ever brothers you, i can always help

Kuai: you are the only one bothering me. Back. Off!

Kuai: dont you dare come anywhere near Kenshi!

Shang: your mistrust wounds me, Kuai Liang

Kuai: If you dont shut up yourself, i'll make you!

Shang: coming from you, that doesnt sound bad at all

Smoke: what do you mean Hanzo isnt a kid?!

Mk1!Smoke and Sb!Kuai (these are some inside jokes i have with a couple of mutuals😉)

Kuai: have you never seen a child?!

Kuai: so do you only take old people as your students?

Smoke: HE TOLD ME HE WAS 15, OKAY?!

Smoke: How do we stop Bi han?

Kuai: my advice, pay his rent and spanish classes

Smoke: i bet i can guess your exact age!

Kuai: *sigh* of course you can

Smoke: ohhh, Who is Sareena? Your girlfriend?

Kuai: You trying to start a fight with both Bi hans?

Ashrah: You have no evil in your soul

Mk1!Ashrah and Sb!Kuai

Kuai: i am far from innocent

Ashrah: dont be so cruel on yourself

Ashrah: You are a great teacher

Kuai: i have a great student

(not himself as in other Kuai, but as himself himself)

Kuai: that is all i've ever known

Mk1!Shang tsung vs Sb!Hanzo

Hanzo: Im suprised Kuai hasnt broken all your bones

Shang: im suprised he didnt kill you already

[dragonnan]

Secret

May Prompts 2024

Full disclosure this is a completed story on AO3. However this fit the prompt perfectly and this is not a story that has seen much attention so double bonus! Haha!

May 12: "Secret"

It had all started in Dartmoor.

It had nearly been 2am by the time they'd finished up at the field and had staggered back to the hotel. Sherlock had left hours earlier so John had offered to remain behind with Greg while they had filled in the local constabulary; a greying man a year out from retirement along with his replacement-in-training. Well out of his jurisdiction, and glad of it, Greg had suggested a stop at the hotel bar before heading off to bed. John had been more than happy to erase the evening in alcohol and they'd ended up having several drinks before finally splitting off towards their respective rooms. The room he shared with Sherlock was dark when John wrestled his key into the lock and swung the door. Opting to spare his vision, he switched on only the bedside lamp – filling a corner of the room with a warm yellow glow. The bed was empty, of course. The bar had been empty of everyone save himself and Greg so it was anyone's guess as to where Sherlock had wandered off. No doubt burning off the events of the night in his own way, John didn't dwell on the other man's fluctuating mood – moving instead towards the loo... only to find the door locked.

“Sherlock?” A double rap of knuckles met only silence. “Sherlock, you alright? Open the door.”

“John?” The soft warble of his voice was enough to pump a shot of adrenaline through John's chest – alarm pushing him to rap the door a bit more firmly. “Sherlock, let me in.”

“John? What's wrong?” The voice came from behind him, this time; Greg rubbing at his forehead and looking about as knackered as John felt and far worse than he should be feeling after just two pints. Granted, it had been preceded by drugged mist, explosions, and giant dogs.

“It's Sherlock. Not sure what's going on,” he filled in softly. Greg, for his part, moved to rubbing his eyes.

“Well, aye, he's probably just paggered.”

An odd scramble followed Greg's comment. And then there was the sound of breaking glass.

“Shit,” setting his feet, John didn't hesitate in throwing his shoulder against the door – forcing it open onto another shadowed room. More scrambling followed – like something hard scraping against wood – and then Sherlock gave a short yelp and the shower curtain collapsed just as Greg blasted the room with the overhead light. John winced at the retina blinding afterimage – groaning as he pressed his palms against his eyes.

“Christ, ta for that...”

Eyes slow to adjust with the near blinding, it took John a moment to focus on the figure wrapped up in plastic. The curtain, with its pattern of small frogs in sailor hats, jutted up in a way suggesting something sharp was tenting it. Now fully in the tub, Sherlock had curled into himself as much as the limited space would allow.

“Please, don't... I'm fine.”

“Bollocks, you're fine,” John muttered; reaching for the curtain and pulling it aside...

Greg actually stumbled back – knocking something over that John couldn't be arsed to care about because his focus was completely on the figure huddled before him.

It was Sherlock... or... what looked like Sherlock. But...

“Good Christ, are those antlers?”

John shook his head, hard, with eyes squeezed tight. That fucking mist. No doubt still in their systems and an evening of drinking couldn't have helped matters. “Dammit, we're still hallucinating.”

An unexpectedly wild giggle burst from Lestrade. “Oh, ya think, do ya? Naw, I was thinking Sherlock literally turned into a bloody antelope!”

“Faun.” Both of them, now, looked back to Sherlock who still had antlers and, from the waist downward, a heavy layer of reddish brown fur, a scattering of dainty white spots, and...

“Hooves. He's got hooves.” John made that statement with the observation of someone of whom fate had delivered into madness. Of course he had hooves. He was half a deer, apparently.

Groaning, Greg staggered back towards the main room to drop into a chair. “Is it normal for a drug to last this long? I mean, I've done a fair bit of reading on the effects of stuff like cocaine and marijuana and even methamphetamines but this just seems...”

“Potent...” John offered – still transfixed by the absolute realness of the fantastical nature of Sherlock's form; as well as the fact that, aside from the rapidly fading buzz of alcohol, he didn't feel the least bit high. That said, the drug they'd been exposed to was completely unknown and it occurred to him that all three of them should have headed straight for the nearest hospital to be placed under observation.

“John, you are not hallucinating.” Sherlock had finally managed to tear the curtain free from his – well his... yeah. He remained crouched in the tub, however; his hooves... feet... slipping on the smooth porcelain.

It was then that John noticed the streak of blood on the rim of the tub.

“Damn, you're bleeding.” Pushing away all thoughts of deer people, John stepped forward to grasp Sherlock's upper arm – preparatory to helping him from the tub. This close he could feel the tremble running through Sherlock's body. He felt nearly hot to the touch and John cursed again at the realization Sherlock had been alone and sick while he'd been off making an evening of it. “Come on. Let's get you lying down so I can take a look at that injury.”

He refused to acknowledge the sensation of soft fur brushing against him as he helped Sherlock to stand. Between them, they managed to get Sherlock to the other room – Greg moving forward to help when the two of them emerged from the bathroom. Soon Sherlock was stretched out on the bed and John was examining the three inch gash across his right forearm.

“I cut it on the mirror when it broke.” His voice had resumed shaking – his whole body consumed with tremors.

“Yeah, well, its gonna need stitches. My kit is in the back of the car. Greg, do you mind?”

Grunting his reply, eyes still a bit dazed, Greg went to collect the bag while John gave the rest of Sherlock's body a scan for other injuries. Of course, this also forced him to confront the... less than human aspects.

“It's not real.” And maybe if he said that enough it would be true.

“I assure you it is. And had I the ability I would have changed back in order to avoid all of this. You weren't... humans are not meant to know of us...”

Cold bathed down from the crown of John's head to pour into his belly. “No. Nope. This is the side effect of a very powerful drug! Nothing more!���

“Do I look like a hallucination, John!” Sherlock roared – pushing himself to stand just as Greg returned from the car.

“Hell’s bloody bells...” Greg breathed.

Both men stood frozen as sobriety finally asserted that what they were seeing was actually, terrifyingly, real. And then Sherlock jerked, spun towards the nearest bin, and vomited.

An hour later, Sherlock sat, huddled and miserable, beneath the comforter while John and Greg finished up cleaning the bathroom of broken glass, scattered toiletries, and the torn remnants of Sherlock's clothes. Compartmentalizing had gotten them both this far but now, with no other activities to distract them, they were forced to confront the reality in the other room.

John could admit that he felt... well, terrified... Not of Sherlock, specifically but more... as though he had had the floor drop away – revealing a black and endless depth. It was apt that he felt he couldn't find his footing. Sherlock, for his part, had been very quiet during this time. Now, though, he sighed.

“Mycroft tried to warn me this would happen – eventually.”

John swallowed. Of course, Mycroft. He was one of these... these beings... as well. How many were there, then? Seeing the question on his face, Sherlock answered.

“There are more of us than you would think. As you can understand, however, it has been crucial to our safety that we remain hidden. If it weren't for what happened, yesterday, you would never have known about me.”

Trying, very hard, to get past the gut twisting wrongness, John moved to the chair directly opposite of the bed. Greg, for his part, still stood near the door. “You mean the mist?”

Sherlock shook his head; his antlers catching the soft light. “It's a reaction to coming face to face with a predator to our kind.”

John frowned. “Do you mean... the dog? I don't understand. I've seen you interacting with dogs, even patting then, dozens of times. Why would this...?”

“It wasn't a dog,” Sherlock swallowed, “It was a werewolf.”

Desperately putting the fur, antlers, and bloody hooves out of his mind, John scrambled for normalcy in the best way he knew how. By arguing.

“No... no I saw it. It was a dog. You said it was a dog.”

“Yes – I said it was a dog. But what did you see before I said that?”

He wasn't quite ready to accept that his flatmate was hooved much less that fairy tale monsters roamed the moors. But then the other part, of what Sherlock said, registered in his mind.

“Hold up – what do you mean by 'before you said that'?”

And here, Sherlock looked down, fingers pulling at the duvet. “I... our kind... we have the ability to alter perception. Not much – less so the younger we are – but enough to make you see a dog instead of a werewolf simply by speaking an absolute imbued with Power. It helps that you already expected to see a dog.” Here he looked up through his lashes. “Did you truly believe any drug would give everyone the exact same hallucination?”

John, though, still wasn't ready for all of... that. “That dog had an owner. Two owners – they admitted to creating this entire legend. Are you saying they had a werewolf and didn't know about it?”

“They knew exactly what they had. They thrive on trickery and no doubt were ecstatic over the chaos they caused.”

“So how did two, uh, humans end up in possession with that... that... that creature?”

Sherlock's eyes squinted shut. “They weren't human. They were satyrs. Similar to faun in appearance but far more powerful. They, too, can speak words of Power but unlike faun they can cloak their true nature from all creatures – including my kind. I didn't realize what they were until a short time ago.”

Hunched over his knees, John braced his hands on his thighs and breathed.

Finally giving in to the madness, Greg walked to the other chair where he dropped down with all the exhaustion of a man who hadn't slept for two days. Both hands scrubbed over his eyes. “So, what, you just speak one of these power words and we go back to seeing you as a human?”

Sherlock's lips pulled back, briefly, and John caught a glimpse of sharp canines. “No. At least not for a long duration given my form would merely be hidden from sight. The actual nature of my true body would still leave traces behind. As it is, faun are required to alter their shape in a manner which allows for full integration with humanity. It is, rather, a more physical process. And a painful one.”

At John's tipped head, Sherlock wrapped his arms about himself. “I can transform my shape. Well, once the adrenaline surge wanes enough to allow for it. It is not pleasant, however.”

“Does this happen a lot? Whenever you encounter a... well... a, ah, werewolf?”

Sherlock leaned back against the headboard – antlers tapping the wall. “Fortunately they are quite rare, nowadays. This is the first werewolf I've ever encountered. The last known sighting was more than sixty years ago.” Then, stretching, Sherlock swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Now, if you don't mind, I need some privacy.”

It wasn't until he was back out in the hallway that John realized he'd just been kicked out of his own room.

Greg offered a pitying look. “I've a roll away in the closet if you want.”

John was about to accept when both of them startled at the sudden groan from the other side of the door. This was followed by what John could only imagine as the spongy snap of wet bone – immediately followed by a muffled scream.

“Jesus-” Without thought on the matter he immediately threw open the door and rushed back inside... to find Sherlock nude, soaked, and fully human, collapsed in a heap next to the bed.

Read the rest of the story on AO3

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