#sink recovery au

[d4rk-x-w0lf-17]

decided to redo this but this time with my kin characters

[d4rk-x-w0lf-17]

OOOUGH!!!!

THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!

momo is so cute and i would like to gently hold

looks like bluebell made a new friend

og panel

ive been chatting with @zelda-10l for a good bit about out .exe ocs and felt like making a new one, the one bluebell (aka @zelda-10l s oc) is talking to is called momo, he doesn't do anything bad to any game/computer program he's just here for moral support

momo goes by he/they

bluebell is again by:@zelda-10l and @i-cant-thinkof-anything-new

momo is my lil bb

[jaeyunluvbot]

bite the hand

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 enemies to lovers-ish, college au, hockey player!sunghoon, slightly nerdy!reader, angst, happy ending

word count 𝟅𝟈 4.6k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You take a deep breath, staring at your computer screen as you will yourself to finish your lab report before the weekend. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above only makes it harder to focus, their droning buzz tugging at your already fragile attention span.

Groaning, you bury your face in your hands as another burst of laughter erupts from the table next to you. The group of students there seems oblivious to the library’s supposed quiet rule, their chatter growing louder with every passing minute. A part of you wants to tell them to shut up, but the thought of confronting them fills you with dread.

Your eyes drift back to the unfinished lab report, mocking you with every cursor blink. Defeated, you shut your laptop with a sharp click and shove it into your bag. You’ve had enough of the noise, deciding that the solitude of your dorm is a far better place to work—or nap.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder and stand to leave, you throw one last glare at the rowdy table. Your irritation deepens when your eyes meet Park Sunghoon’s. He’s sitting there, mid-laugh, but the second your gazes lock, his amusement falters into surprise. Embarrassed, you look away and hurry out of the library, the encounter making your retreat feel even more awkward.

On your way back to your dorm, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A quick glance reveals an email notification from your professor. You unlock your phone, opening the email and skimming its contents. He’s asking if you’d be willing to tutor a struggling student who’s in danger of failing their class. There’s payment involved, and the arrangement would look good on your resume, but the thought of adding another task to your packed schedule makes you hesitate.

After weighing your options, you sigh and type out a reply. I’ll do it.

Reaching your dorm, you toss your bag onto the floor and collapse onto your bed without even bothering to change your clothes. Sleep comes quickly, a much-needed reprieve from your overworked mind.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days later, you walk into your chemistry lab, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. You’d managed to finish your lab report over the weekend, but at the cost of the recovery time you desperately needed. Now, the decision to tutor feels like a mistake. Scanning the room, you notice several students looking as lost as ever, and you dread the thought of figuring out which one you’d be charged with helping.

Once the lab ends, you pack your things and prepare to leave, but your professor’s voice cuts through the buzz of conversation. “Y/N, could you stay for a moment?”

You pause, your curiosity mingling with annoyance. As you approach his desk, you notice someone standing beside him. It’s Park Sunghoon.

Your stomach sinks. He looks as sheepish as you feel, his hands shoved into his pockets and his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N,” your professor begins with a smile, “I’d like you to meet the student you’ll be tutoring—Park Sunghoon. Sunghoon, this is Y/N. I’m confident you two will make a great team.”

Sunghoon glances at you, his lips quirking into an awkward smile. “Uh, hi,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

You force a smile, your irritation at the boy bubbling up despite your best efforts to bury it. Of all people…

You clear your throat and nod stiffly. “Hi,” you reply, finding it difficult to keep your voice level.

Your professor beams, clearly oblivious to the awkwardness between you. “Why don’t you two exchange contact information so you can set up a time to meet?”

Sunghoon hesitates briefly, then pulls out his phone. You mirror the action, feeling your stomach twist as a rush of old memories surfaces—memories you’d rather forget. He recites his number, and you type it in, deliberately avoiding eye contact as you save it to your contacts under a simple Park Sunghoon.

“I’ll text you later,” you say sharply, locking your phone and slipping it back into your pocket. “We can figure out a schedule then.”

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, his voice softer than you remember. He fidgets, glancing at you briefly before looking away, not that you noticed, having avoided contact, visual or not, with him since you left high school.

Your professor clasps his hands together, clearly satisfied. “Perfect! Thanks again, Y/N—you’re doing a great thing.”

You force a tight smile, muttering a polite response before excusing yourself. The moment you step out of the classroom, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Park Sunghoon. Of course, it had to be him...

The walk to work feels longer than usual, your mind spiraling as you replay the memories you’ve worked so hard to bury. Sunghoon hadn’t been the worst person in high school—not overtly cruel, at least—but he had been a part of the group that made your life hell. His hockey teammates were relentless with their taunts, mocking your clothes, your grades, even the way you walked. And while Sunghoon never joined in directly, he never stopped them either. He just stood by, laughing along like it was some kind of joke.

You swallow hard, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag. Maybe he’s changed since then. It’s been a couple of years, after all. People grow up, right? But the thought of spending time with him—helping him, of all things—makes your stomach churn.

By the time you reach the café, your frustration has morphed into a simmering resentment. You shove your bag into the staff locker and tie your apron around your waist, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

The hum of the espresso machine and the steady stream of customers provide a welcome distraction, but Sunghoon’s face lingers in the back of your mind. What was your professor thinking, asking you to tutor him? And why had you agreed so quickly?

You paste on a customer-service smile as you take another order, trying to shake off the unease. Maybe this would be fine. Maybe he wasn’t the same person he used to be. But as much as you want to believe that, a voice in the back of your head whispers otherwise.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next day, after exchanging a few brief texts with Sunghoon, you agree to meet in one of the smaller study rooms in the library. You keep the messages as formal and impersonal as possible, giving him the time and location with no room for small talk.

When you arrive, he’s already there, slouched in a chair with his phone in hand. He looks up as you walk in, straightening slightly but not saying anything. You drop your bag onto the table and pull out your notebook and laptop, keeping your eyes on your supplies instead of him.

“Let’s get started,” you say curtly, flipping open the notebook to the notes you’ve prepared. “What exactly are you struggling with?”

Sunghoon shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Pretty much everything.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course. “Okay, well, we’re going to start with the basics. If you don’t understand those, there’s no point in moving forward.” You flip to the beginning of your notebook, clearly having underestimated just how behind he was.

Sunghoon listens, his expression unreadable. He nods occasionally, jotting down notes without comment. Every time you ask if he has questions, he shakes his head, his indifference irritating you even more.

The air between you feels tense, the silence only broken by the sound of your pen scratching against the paper or the occasional rustle of Sunghoon shifting in his seat. You stick strictly to the material, explaining concepts and walking him through problems all while avoiding eye contact with him.

After about an hour, you close your notebook with a decisive snap. “That’s enough for today,” you say, packing up your things quickly. “Practice these problems before our next session, or this’ll be a waste of time.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at your tone but doesn’t say anything. “Got it,” he says, his voice as neutral as yours.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and stand, eager to leave. As you head for the door, Sunghoon’s voice stops you.

“Hey,” he says, and you turn reluctantly to face him. He looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Thanks, I guess. For doing this.”

You blink, caught off guard, but quickly school your features into neutrality. “Don’t thank me yet,” you say, and walk out without another word.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It had been weeks since you started tutoring Sunghoon, and while he had made some minimal progress, his commitment—or lack thereof—was driving you insane. With the big exam coming up, you’d been trying to schedule an extra session to review the material, but every time you texted him, he either claimed he was busy with hockey or straight-up ignored your messages.

You slammed your phone onto your desk after yet another unread text from him. Why am I even trying?

By the time your next class rolled around, you were on the verge of screaming. As soon as the lecture ended, you spotted him at the back of the room, chatting casually with one of his friends. Your frustration boiled over.

“Sunghoon!” you called sharply, cutting through the buzz of students packing up.

He glanced over, startled, and his friend quickly ducked out of the way, sensing the tension. You marched up to him, your jaw tight and your eyes blazing.

“What’s your problem?” you snapped, ignoring the stares from a few lingering classmates. “You’ve been ignoring my texts for the last week. I’m done.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you wasting my time,” you hissed. “I’ve been trying to help you, but you don’t even care enough to show up half the time! Do you think I don’t have better things to do?”

He frowned, his expression darkening. “I do care. I just—”

“No, you don’t,” you cut him off. “You care about hockey and parties and whatever else you’re doing instead of studying. But you don’t care about passing this class, and I’m not going to keep wasting my time on someone who obviously doesn't care or respect my time.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Then he said, his voice tight, “If I fail, I can’t play. I’ll get benched.”

You stared at him, was he seriously saying that right now? “And whose fault is that?” you asked sharply. “You think I’m the one who’s been skipping sessions and ignoring texts? This is on you, Sunghoon. Not me.”

His face flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger, you couldn’t tell. “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing his bag. “Do whatever you want.”

“Fine,” you shot back.

He walked past you without another word, leaving you standing there with your fists clenched at your sides. The stares from the remaining students felt like needles in your skin, but you ignored them, storming out of the room and heading straight for your dorm.

As soon as you got to your desk, you opened your laptop and began typing out an email to your professor. You kept it short and professional, explaining that you could no longer tutor Sunghoon due to his lack of commitment and unwillingness to prioritize his studies.

After hitting send, you sat back in your chair, rubbing your temples. You wanted to feel relieved, but the knot in your chest only seemed to tighten.

Why do I even care? you wondered. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the image of Sunghoon’s frustrated expression—or the way his voice cracked when he said he couldn’t play.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The big exam had come and gone, with you achieving a perfect score, as usual, and for the first time in what felt like ages, your schedule had a lull. No tutoring, no extra shifts at the café, and no urgent RA duties. You spent most of the afternoon snuggled up in bed, watching your favorite movies and generally rotting away. You’d stopped thinking about Sunghoon entirely—except for the occasional pang of irritation when you remembered his smirk or the way he shrugged off your tutoring sessions. Whether he passed or failed, you didn’t know, and frankly, you didn’t care.

By evening, Liz and Wonyoung showed up at your dorm with all the energy of a cheer routine. Liz, your partner in suffering as a chemical engineering major, was insisting that you went out with them.

“You’ve been cooped up for weeks,” Liz said, digging through your closet. “You need a break. And a drink.”

“I don’t know…” you hesitated, but Wonyoung cut you off.

“No excuses. It’s Friday night, and you deserve to have some fun for once.”

Before you could argue further, Liz pulled out a dress you hadn’t worn in ages—a sleek, flattering number that made you feel good about yourself, but nervous at the same time. They practically shoved you into the bathroom to change, and when you finally emerged, their reactions made you blush.

“Okay, wow,” Liz said, grinning. “You look amazing.”

“Absolute goddess,” Wonyoung added. “You look perfect.”

Despite your initial hesitation, you agreed to go, your nerves bubbling under the surface. You couldn’t help but worry if Sunghoon would be there. After all, hockey players and college parties went hand in hand, and you knew his teammates and old friends would be out in full force.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived, music thumping through the walls of the off-campus house. You stuck close to Liz, nursing a drink she handed you as you tried to shake off your discomfort.

“Relax,” Liz said, nudging you. “You’re allowed to have fun, you know.”

You took another sip, then another, letting the alcohol lessen the weight of stress on your chest. The more you drank, the less out of place you felt—though Liz kept an eye on you.

“Maybe slow down,” she said after your third drink.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, waving her off. “I just… need to relax. This helps.”

But your slight sense of calm shattered when you saw a group of people from your high school clustered near the back of the room. Among them was Sunghoon, leaning against the wall with that same effortless confidence that had always irritated you.

You tried to ignore them, but it didn’t take long for the group to notice you.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” one of them said, their voice cutting through the noise of the party.

“Oh my god, it is,” another chimed in. “Didn’t she always have her nose in a book back in high school?”

“And now look at her,” someone else snickered. “Trying way too hard.”

Your stomach sank, and you turned to walk away, but their laughter followed you.

“Shut up,” you heard Sunghoon say, his voice sharp.

The group fell silent, and you glanced back to see him glaring at them. For a split second, your eyes met his, but you turned and hurried toward the door before he could say anything.

The cool night air hit you like a slap, and you started walking, the alcohol making your steps uneven. You just needed to get home, to get away from all of it.

“Y/N, wait!”

You groaned, hearing Sunghoon’s voice behind you. “Go away, Sunghoon.”

He jogged to catch up, falling into step beside you. “You can’t walk home alone. You’re drunk.”

“I don’t care,” you muttered, picking up your pace.

He grabbed your arm gently, stopping you. “I care. Even if you hate me, I’m not letting you do this.”

You yanked your arm away, glaring at him. “Why do you care now? You didn’t care back then. You just stood there and let them treat me like garbage.”

He flinched, his expression softening. “I know,” he said quietly. “I was a coward. I should’ve done something, and I didn’t. I’ve regretted it ever since.”

“Great,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger. “You regret it. That doesn’t change anything.”

He looked at you, his jaw tight. “I know it doesn’t. But I’m sorry. For all of it.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, but the anger bubbling in your chest wouldn’t let you accept it. Without another word, you turned and marched up to your dorm, slamming the door in his face as soon as you got inside.

Your phone buzzed with a text a few minutes later:

Park Sunghoon: Are you okay? Please let me know you got home safe.

You stared at the screen, your emotions a tangled mess. But you didn’t reply.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’ve managed to avoid Sunghoon for weeks now, successfully shoving thoughts of him to the back of your mind. For once, your schedule feels manageable—no last-minute tutoring sessions or stressful emails from your professor. You even have some free time to relax, which you’ve been using to catch up on sleep and unwind.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon feels like his guilt is eating him alive. Every time he sees you in class, he wants to apologize again, but the memory of your anger and disappointment keeps holding him back. His friends don’t make it easier.

“Forget her, dude. She’s just some uptight nerd. She's not worth it,” one of them says during lunch, laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

But instead of agreeing, something inside Sunghoon snaps. He realizes that every time he’s around them, they make him feel worse about himself. About everything.

“You know what? I’m done,” he mutters, standing up and walking away, ignoring their confused calls after him.

For the first time in a long time, Sunghoon feels like he’s doing something right.

He starts studying more seriously, forcing himself to focus during lectures and spending time in the library instead of at parties. It’s frustrating at first—everything feels harder without someone to guide him. But little by little, he starts to understand the material.

When his professor hands back their graded exams weeks later, Sunghoon’s heart pounds in his chest. He flips it over and stares at the bold “B” at the top of the page. It’s not an A, but it’s the best grade he’s gotten all semester.

He wants to text you immediately, to show you that he’s not the same person you yelled at. He types out a message, attaching a picture of the exam: “Look, I actually passed! I wouldn’t have been able to do this without your help."

But the text sits unread, as do all the other ones he had sent you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’re just leaving work when you see him waiting outside, a piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand.

“Sunghoon?” you ask, stopping in your tracks.

He looks nervous but determined. “Can I talk to you? Just for a minute?”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He steps closer, holding up the exam. “I just… wanted to show you this. I got a B.”

You glance at the grade and then back at him. “Ok,” you say flatly, trying to walk past him, but he moves to block your path.

“Please,” he says. “I need to say this.”

You pause, your exhaustion fighting with your curiosity. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I’m sorry,” he starts, his voice soft but steady. “Not just for wasting your time or blowing you off during tutoring. For everything. For how I treated you in high school, for standing by when my friends were jerks to you. I was a coward, and I didn’t know how to deal with… anything, honestly.”

His words catch you off guard, and you find yourself staring at him, speechless.

“I’m not trying to excuse it. I just wanted you to know that I hate the way I treated you. I hate that I hurt you. And I hate that I gave you every reason to think I’m just some… useless asshole.” He takes a deep breath. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying to change. To prove to myself that I’m not that guy anymore.”

You let his words sink in, the anger and hurt you’ve carried for years simmering just beneath the surface.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “You were a coward. And you did hurt me.”

He flinches, but you keep going.

“But… I can see you’re trying. And I respect that.”

His eyes light up with a glimmer of hope. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

You hesitate, your heart pounding. “It means I’m not as mad at you anymore. But trust takes time, Sunghoon. You’ll have to prove it.”

“I will,” he promises, his voice earnest. “I won’t let you down again.”

With that, you finally let yourself smile, just a little. “We’ll see.”

As you walk away, you can’t help but feel like something has shifted. Maybe, just maybe, people really can change.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s been a few weeks since the two of you started working together again. Sunghoon is doing better in class—much better, actually—and has taken a noticeable turn for the better in life. He’s distanced himself from his old friends, who never did much for him except drag him down.

As much as you still don’t fully trust him, you can’t ignore how much he’s changed. He’s more focused now, more respectful, and maybe, just maybe, even a little bit likable.

And to your surprise, you’re starting to enjoy spending time with him, both in and out of tutoring. He’s always there now, walking to class with you, grabbing coffee, or just hanging out in the library when you’re working on assignments. He even comes along with you, Liz, and Wonyoung for some of your late-night hangouts, laughing along with your jokes, even if he doesn’t quite understand all the girl talk.

Liz and Wonyoung start giving each other knowing looks, and one night, after Sunghoon heads home, Liz grins mischievously.

“So, what’s going on between you two?” she asks casually.

You freeze. “What do you mean?”

Wonyoung snickers. “You two spend so much time together, and we see the way he looks at you. You sure you’re not into him?”

You shake your head, a nervous laugh escaping. “No. Definitely not. We’re just tutoring partners.”

Liz raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. If that’s true, then why are you so distracted every time he texts you? Why do you smile like that when his name pops up?”

You feel your face flush. “Shut up,” you mutter, pulling a pillow over your face. “I don’t like him. I just—he’s been there for me, ok? He’s changed.”

“Sure, sure,” Liz teases. “But you’re definitely into him. Don’t worry, we won't judge you.”

You groan into the pillow, but part of you wonders if they’re right. You’ve been trying to ignore the flutter in your chest when he’s near, the way your heart speeds up when he smiles at you or gives you one of those rare, genuine compliments. But you push it all aside. You don’t want to get hurt again, not after everything that happened in high school.

So, you keep things casual. You hang out, study together, laugh at his lame jokes, but you keep a distance.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, has been wrestling with his feelings for a while. He knows, deep down, that he likes you. And not just in a surface-level, "oh, she's cute" way. He values your company more than he thought possible. Your patience, your intelligence, your warmth—everything about you pulls him in, and every time he sees you, he wants to be closer.

But you’ve been pulling away recently, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know what’s changed, but he can feel the distance. And he doesn’t like it. Not at all.

So, after days of thinking it over, he makes up his mind. He can’t keep pretending he’s okay with just being your friend, your tutoring client. He decides to tell you how he feels, ignoring the risk and the burn of anxiety in his chest.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s another Friday night when he shows up at your dorm, unannounced. Liz and Wonyoung are with you, watching a movie and chatting when you hear a knock at the door.

“Ugh, who’s that?” Liz mumbles as she gets up to answer it.

When she opens the door, Sunghoon stands there, his hands in his pockets and an anxious look on his face.

“I need to talk to Y/N,” he says, glancing over her shoulder at you.

“Uh, no, we’re having a girls’ night,” Liz says with a playful but firm tone. “What’s up, Hoon?”

Sunghoon looks from Liz to Wonyoung, then back at you. “I—I need to talk to her. It’s important.”

There’s something so serious in his eyes that it catches your attention. You stand up slowly, excusing yourself from the couch.

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave you two alone,” Liz says with a wink, grabbing Wonyoung’s hand and dragging her out of the room.

Once the door clicks shut, Sunghoon steps forward. His nervousness is palpable.

“Listen, I don’t know how to say this properly, but I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this way,” he starts, looking at you with a vulnerability that’s hard to ignore. “I’ve been an idiot, and I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t. But I like you, Y/N. I don’t know how else to say it, but I do.”

You blink at him, taken aback.

“I like you,” he repeats, more firmly this time, stepping closer. “And I think… I think I’ve liked you for a while now. I know this might sound out of nowhere, but I’ve been holding it in and pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You’re the person I want to be around. You’re the person I want to be with. So, I’m asking you…” He takes a deep breath. “Will you go out with me?”

You stand frozen, feeling a rush of emotions flood over you. The mix of confusion, joy, and fear swirls inside you. Your heart races in your chest as his words settle in.

It feels unreal—like this is some dream where everything is finally falling into place. But even so, you hesitate, unsure if you’re ready to take the leap.

But as you look at him, his earnest face, his sincerity, and the way he’s looking at you with so much hope, you can’t help but say it.

“Yes.”

Sunghoon’s face lights up, relief flooding through him as a wide smile spreads across his face. He reaches out to take your hand gently.

“I promise I won’t mess this up,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next day, Liz and Wonyoung don’t waste a single second, pouncing on you as soon as they see you.

“You’re dating Sunghoon now, aren’t you?” Liz asks, her grin stretching across her face.

You try to act casual, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “I guess I am.”

Wonyoung jumps up from her seat, practically tackling you in a hug. “Oh my God, we knew it! We knew it!”

Liz joins in the celebration, and you can’t help but laugh, even as the excitement bubbles up inside you. Sunghoon might’ve been a jerk before, but now, he’s someone you can trust. And for the first time in a long time, you’re excited to see where things go from here.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𝟅𝟈 ummmm i can't tell if i like this or not but oh well i'm too lazy to rewrite it. also sorry for so many text breaks i'm so bad at writing transitions. also thanks to my pookie kenzie for helping me think of the plot :3

[reilemon]

♥︎Amore Immortale♥︎ Ch. 2

♡︎synopsis: Unable to fall asleep after overhearing an argument, you unexpectedly find comfort in Xavier's presence.

♡︎pairing: vampire!Xavier, vampire!Zayne, vampire!Rafayel, vampire!Sylus x fem!reader (separately and together)

♡︎tags: vampire au, slow burn (-ish), eventual romance, eventual smut, eventual polyamory

♡︎word count: 4.4k

♡︎a/n: I rewrote this chapter like five times.

♡︎ Thanks to my dearest friend and beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

The cool silk of the nightgown drapes softly over your skin as you sink into the bed, the lingering warmth from the bath helping you relax. The bed is welcoming you with fresh linens and warmth from the fireplace across the room. You reach out to the small stack of books left on the bedside table, probably picked out by Xavier. Your gaze shifts to the teapot and a single teacup resting on the table beside you, reminding you of Zayne’s presence. He’d only been here minutes before, setting the tray with steady hands and explaining, without offering any details, that they’d be away for a few hours tonight.

Your eyes drift to the crystal vase next to the tray, brimming with vivid autumn flowers. The petals bring a comforting warmth to the room, a reminder of how attentive they’ve been since the moment you arrived. It’s only your third night in this mansion, a place so remote you feel like you’re in an entirely different world, surrounded by complete strangers who, somehow, feel anything but strange.

Yesterday has passed in a haze, the fever pinning you to the bed, and the men had gone out of their way to make you feel comforted and tended to. Sylus and Rafayel had brought you the nightgowns and dresses you found in your wardrobe, pieces finer and softer than anything you’d ever worn. Xavier had kept you company, reading aloud in a gentle voice when your own eyes felt too heavy to make it past the first few words on a page. And Zayne—his meticulous care in crafting light meals, tea, and tinctures had left you feeling as if you’d been restored from within. Now, save for the faintest hint of the bruise above your brow, it was as though nothing had happened to you at all.

They’d insisted, though—Zayne especially—that you stay at least a night or two more to ensure your full recovery. The thought of leaving made you feel odd. Relieved that your health improved so fast, yet – you felt reluctance. You understand completely why you don’t want to leave, but you know you’re only an injured house guest here.

You open the book, letting your fingers glide over the thick, slightly worn pages, continuing where Xavier left off. As your eyes scan the first few lines, a smile tugs at your lips, and you nearly chuckle to yourself. You remember that first hazy night here, tucked in the same bed and looking at these high ceilings, with only the eerie silence for company. In your fevered state, a wild thought crossed your mind—that perhaps these men could be something other than human. Vampires – of all things.

Now, you couldn’t imagine how such a thought had crossed your mind. The household might seem unusual—Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, and Rafayel all clearly different, probably not related, living in this mansion hidden far from everything—but they’d shown you nothing but kindness. Their attentiveness, their patience, the constant tending to your well-being—it made you feel almost guilty for the thought. Perhaps the head injury, the fever, had sent your mind spiraling into those strange corners, blurring logic with fantasy.

But still, there was something undeniably unusual about this household and the way it worked. You blink, the page turning slightly out of focus as your thoughts drift. Odd, you think, that four young men live here without any...

Your eyes flutter shut, the unfinished thought slipping away as sleep settles over you, the book settling on your chest.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The creak of the staircase pulls you from sleep, and you blink, momentarily disoriented. The book lies half-open on your chest, its pages ruffled from where you drifted off. You stir, your ears picking up low voices from somewhere downstairs and heavy footsteps. They ascend the stairs, not toward your room, but past it, fading into the distance.

As you blink away the fog of sleep, you realize that the men must have returned. But there’s something… off. You listen as multiple voices overlap in muffled conversation from downstairs. Their tones, hushed yet tense, are different than the warm and comforting voices that you’ve come to know.

You turn onto your side, clutching the duvet, trying to will yourself back to sleep. But the restlessness simmering within you refuses to let you drift off again. You catch some snippets of movement—a few footsteps pacing, a chair scraping, low murmurs —and an unbearable curiosity pushes you to sit up. You hesitate, but the need to know gnaws at you, compelling you out of bed. Moving slowly, you slide out from under the covers, careful to let your feet touch the floor without a sound. Tiptoeing across the room, you reach the door and press your ear to the wood.

You hear footsteps again, and you freeze, barely breathing as they descend the staircase just outside your room. They stop midway for a moment, and then continue downward, finally reaching the ground floor where probably the rest of them are conversing.

Zayne’s voice cuts through first. “Next time, we can’t afford any more slip-ups. We were... lucky tonight.”

Sylus’s deep, annoyed tone follows. “If you’d let me handle it, we’d have been done hours ago. But no—”

Then comes Rafayel, his voice clear and firm. “Stop. It’s useless to argue now.”

The conversation dips for a moment, a brief silence settling over them. You almost step away, but then Xavier’s soft voice reaches you, quieter than the others. “I’m fine,” he murmurs, almost as though he’s trying to reassure someone. “It’s nothing, really…”

You strain to hear more, but their voices have softened, losing the edge they held only moments ago.

With a last attempt to catch any final word, you step away from the door. Your first instinct is to pace around the room, to shake off the tension coursing through you. But you force yourself to stay still, wary of letting them know you’re awake. Instead, you settle back into bed, pulling the duvet up around your shoulders, but your mind refuses to quiet. When Zayne mentioned they’d be out for the evening, you’d imagined something lighthearted—a celebration, perhaps, or an event in some nearby town.

Curiosity gnaws at you, making you toss and turn, urging you to find out more. Still, you feel a reluctance to pry - they’d taken you in, a stranger, letting you stay without hesitation, and the last thing you want is to betray their trust. But beyond curiosity, there’s a lingering need to do more. It feels maybe naive, but there’s an urge to comfort them, to offer something back for the kindness they’ve shown you.

Yet…how could you, without admitting you’d been listening?

As you turn again, your eyes settle on the empty teacup resting on the table beside you, as you wait for the sound of footsteps outside your door. This is your third night here, and last night, Zayne had quietly come in to take the empty cup, and relight the fire in the hearth. His presence had felt comforting, his voice a warm murmur as he asked if you needed anything else before he left.

But tonight, the room remains silent, the warmth from the fire has dwindled to a faint glow. Zayne doesn’t appear, at least not in the next few minutes while you wait. You sit up, feeling a surge of determination wash over your hesitation. You reach for the tray with the empty teacup, hoping it will serve as an innocent excuse for stepping outside.

The door creaks softly as you ease it open, and just as you step into the hallway, Zayne appears, making you flinch and the porcelain clink. He stops, his gaze landing on the tray in your hands, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“You should be resting,” he says softly. He reaches out, taking the tray from your hands, his fingertips brushing yours briefly before he steps past you into the room.

You linger in the doorway, watching as he sets the tray down and moves toward the fireplace, kneeling to stoke the coals back into a steady flame. He doesn’t look at you right away, his expression focused, brow faintly furrowed. You want to ask him if he’s alright, but the words catch in your throat.

After a moment, he stands and turns back to you, his expression softening as he studies your face. Without a word, he reaches out, the back of his hand cool as it presses lightly to your forehead. His eyes meet yours, the faintest hint of a smile lifting his lips. “You’re nearly back to yourself.”

You open your mouth, ready to ask this time, but his gaze shifts.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, offering a soft “thank you” as Zayne picks up the tray, his lips lifting in a faint, reassuring smile. “Good night,” he murmurs, and with a gentle click, he closes the door behind him.

As soon as he’s gone, a heavy sigh escapes your lips. The warmth of his kindness is there, but tonight he is more reserved. You sit down on the edge of the bed, your mind racing to find another way to get closer to whatever they’re keeping hidden. But every option seems flimsy. With a restless sigh, you reach for the book on your bedside table, flicking through its pages, the words slipping past your eyes without meaning. Minutes crawl by, but the unease hasn’t faded. Closing the book with a quiet thud, you set it aside, steeling yourself as you stand.

A harmless excuse… sweets. You know it’s thin, and that Zayne had just asked if you needed anything, but at this point, any excuse to step out feels better than staying in this restless haze. Taking a deep breath, you ease the door open once more.

The door creaks, louder than you’d like, and you wince at the sound, pausing mid-step. But the moment you step out, movement catches your eye. You turn to see Xavier down the hallway, wearing pajamas and a silk robe. His gaze shifts toward you, his hand just on the handle of what you assume must be his bedroom door. His eyes meet yours, his expression softening as he takes a step closer.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, his voice warm.

You part your lips, ready to give your hastily-prepared excuse, but your words falter the moment your eyes trace over a thin scratch on his cheek. Your heart skips, a pang of worry tightening your chest. And then you see his hand—bandaged.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice almost too loud in the quiet of the hall.

Xavier’s gaze flickers down at his hand. He brushes it off with a light shrug, as if the wound were nothing but a scrape. “Nothing serious,” he murmurs. His eyes meet yours again, calm and sweet, as they always are.

Xavier smiles softly as he takes in your concerned gaze. “But why aren’t you in bed?”

You open your mouth to press him further, hoping for something, anything, but you know it’s futile. Resigned, you settle on your flimsy excuse. “I… I wanted to get some sweets,” you murmur.

A slight smirk touches his lips, and he tilts his head. “Sweets? You probably shouldn’t eat those before bed,” he teases, his eyes catching yours with a playful glint.

You shift under his gaze, feeling the faintest blush creep onto your cheeks. “I just… I can’t sleep,” you mumble, lowering your gaze.

Xavier’s gaze shifts to your bedroom door. For a second, you think he might suggest that you return to your bed after all. But then, with a small sigh, he glances back at you and says, “I’d offer to take you to the library, but it’s a bit of a mess at the moment.”

Your eyes light up, and before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding eagerly. “I don’t mind at all! I’d love to see it!”

Xavier raises an eyebrow, surprised by your sudden enthusiasm. He blinks once, and then chuckles. “Well now I can’t say no.” he murmurs, unable to mask the warmth in his gaze as he takes in the lively gleam in your eyes. “Follow me.”

He turns, guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. The quiet between you feels comfortable. Though he is injured, he seems to be doing fine, with his familiar calm expression and steady walk. Maybe nothing serious happened after all. Being confined in between four walls may be the cause of your overactive imagination.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As Xavier pushes open the library doors, a faint scent of wood, old leather, and parchment fills the air, enveloping you in that unmistakable fragrance of long-forgotten books. Your eyes adjust to the darkness in the room, noting immediately that Xavier wasn’t exaggerating. Piles upon piles of books are stacked in nearly every corner, most of the shelves are still dusty and empty. The room itself isn’t vast, but it’s larger than the bookstore back in your village, with high ceilings and walls lined with rich, dark wood paneling. While you’re captivated by the room’s potential, Xavier quietly moves across the room, opening the heavy curtains, letting the moonlight illuminate the room. Then he moves towards the center of the room, crouching down to light the fire in the large stone fireplace. It takes only a few moments before the first crackling flames rise, casting a warm, golden glow.

“Come over here,” he calls softly, gesturing for you to join him.

You wrap your silk robe a little tighter around you, shivering slightly, and step toward him. As you reach his side, you notice that this corner has been carefully arranged. Thick blankets and oversized pillows are gathered in a cozy nook by the hearth, creating a warm nest. Xavier watches you with a smile, his gaze attentive as you take in the inviting corner. You settle beside him on the fuzzy blanket, the fire’s warmth radiating through the corner as Xavier gently pulls another blanket around your shoulders. The fabric is thick and soft, warding off the lingering chill of the room.

“Have you noticed the ceiling?” he asks.

Curious, you look up, and a small gasp escapes your lips. Above you, stretching across the high ceiling, is a stunning, intricately painted night sky. Swirls of deep blue and violet mix with specks of gold and white, forming constellations and stars. Each star glints in tandem with the shadows, giving the illusion that the night sky itself watches over you. Xavier observes your reaction with a soft, knowing smile, the faintest hint of pride in his eyes as he watches you take it all in. “It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

Your eyes gaze over the ceiling, over the tall windows, towards the empty shelves that line the walls. Even in its disarray, the library feels timeless. As you pull the blanket tighter, a thought crosses your mind, and you glance over at him. “Did you all just move here?” you ask, your voice soft.

He shifts, his gaze falling to the fire. “We’re still settling in, you could say.” His answer leaves you with more questions than before.

You catch yourself before pressing further. Instead, your gaze wanders around the room, over the books scattered and stacked in every corner, the empty shelves waiting to be filled. “Well,” you say with a light chuckle, “if it’s just you, it’ll take you weeks—maybe months—to sort all of this.”

He nods in agreement. “You’re right,” he replies, a faint, tired smile ghosting his lips. “It can feel tedious at times. Zayne helps here and there, but even with two of us, it’s an endless task.”

Before you can second-guess yourself, the words are already out. “I could help you with it.”

His attention shifts back to you, studying your face with a spark of intrigue, waiting for you to say more.

“I… work in a bookstore,” you explain, almost shyly. “It’s nothing grand, but I know my way around organizing stacks of books. And, well, I’d like to return your kindness for taking care of me.” You finish with a small shrug.

Xavier’s eyes brighten. “A bookstore…” he murmurs thoughtfully. Xavier’s gaze softens as he considers your offer. “I appreciate the offer,” he says “But for now, your task is to rest and get back to full strength.”

You nod in agreement. Then, Xavier leans to the side, plucking out a book from a small pile on the floor. It’s the one he’d read to you the day before. He turns, holding up the book. “Would you like to stay here, or would you rather go back to your room?”

You look around the cozy corner, the thick blankets and cushions strewn around you. You glance up at him, meeting his patient gaze. “Could we stay here?”

He nods with a quiet smile. “Of course,”

You settle in, sinking into the soft pillows and pulling the warm blankets snug around you. He sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the faint brush of his shoulder when he shifts. The fire crackles softly, its glow casting flickering shadows across the room, and the warmth wraps around you like a comforting embrace. As he begins to read the lines, it feels like the rest of the world has disappeared, leaving only the two of you.

The flickering firelight bathes his face in soft, golden hues, highlighting the bridge of his nose and the curve of his lips. Your eyes linger on his soft lips a moment too long, and when you glance up, your breath catches—he’s looking at you, his lips curling into the faintest, knowing smile, before turning the page and continuing. Your cheeks are burning, and you steel your gaze to the fireplace.

The story takes a lighter turn, the characters exchanging playful banter, and you can’t help but laugh softly at one of the lines. Xavier glances at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckles along. As he continues reading, the restlessness from before is finally drifting away. Your blinks grow slower, each one a little heavier than the last. You try to fight it, not wanting the moment to end, but your body has other plans. Your eyes flutter closed briefly.

After a quiet moment, he closes the book with a soft thud. “You’ll be more comfortable in your bed.”

You shake your head with a sleepy smile. “No, I’m fine here,” you protest, your voice barely above a murmur.

Xavier chuckles softly. “Comfortable, maybe,” he says, leaning closer, “but it’s too cold to sleep here all night. You’ll catch a cold.”

You start to protest, something about being perfectly fine, but the words catch in your throat when you feel his arms slide under you, the blanket still wrapped snugly around your form. Before you can register what’s happening, he lifts you effortlessly, cradling you against his chest.

“Xavier,” you murmur, heat rushing to your face. “I—I can walk, you know.” 

“I know,” he says simply, a soft smile tugging at his lips as his arms tighten slightly around you.

Your head rests naturally on his shoulder, your face close to the crook of his neck. His scent, subtle and clean, fills your senses. His footsteps echo softly against the wooden floors as he carries you down the dimly lit hallway. Every so often, you feel his thumb brush lightly against your shoulder, a comforting gesture that sends a soft flutter through your chest.

His warmth and scent make you flustered and now you’re wide awake by the time you reach your bedroom. He nudges the door open with his shoulder and crosses the threshold, moving carefully until he’s at the edge of your bed. As Xavier gently sets you down on the bed, you feel yourself start to sink comfortably into the mattress. But when he begins to lift the blanket off, it is simply not budging - in your half-asleep state, you’ve somehow managed to wrap yourself up so thoroughly that you’re practically cocooned. The fabric has twisted around your legs and tangled around your arms. Xavier laughs softly at the cozy mess you’ve created.

“Snug as a bug in a rug.” he teases, lightly tugging on one corner.

You can’t help but laugh as you try to wriggle out of the fabric. With mutual efforts, the fabric begins detangling around your limbs.

Finally, after a last tug, he manages to pull the blanket completely. You exhale in relief as the laughter subsides, and you sit up, adjusting the silk robe that had gotten a little loose.

Xavier tosses the blanket on the chair near your bed, and turns to you with the amusement already faded from his expression.

“You’re really okay?” he asks quietly. 

The question catches you off guard. You nod. “I am,” you whisper. “Thanks to all of you.” 

His lips curve into a faint smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good.”

The stillness stretches, the room is quiet except for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. You swallow, hesitating for a moment, unsure if you should say anything at all. But - “Could you…” you start softly, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “Maybe stay? Just—just to sleep.” 

His eyes widen just slightly. He searches your face, as if making sure he’s understood you. “You want me to stay?”

You nod. “I just – I would like some company.” Your voice falters slightly, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks as you speak, but you don’t look away. 

For a moment, he doesn’t move, his gaze holding yours. With an almost imperceptible nod, he says, “Okay.” 

Relief floods through you, though the calm is short lived as both of you discard the robes and slip under the duvet, making your heart pick up the pace. You’re clad in nothing but a silk nightgown and undergarments, only inches away from one of the - from a man that gives you butterflies.

“Better?” he asks softly.

You nod, swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat. “Yeah… much better,” you murmur, but you barely register your words, distracted by the way his eyes linger on yours, then on your lips. Your heart pounds as the moment stretches, and then slowly, you’re leaning in, testing the waters. You close the distance just a fraction, your lips close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. Your heart races, the anticipation nearly unbearable. After a moment he mirrors your movement, his face inching closer, until you’re just a breath apart. Xavier pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet yours one last time. You don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in just a bit more, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

His lips meet yours, gentle and warm. You return the kiss, your breath hitching at the softness of his lips, the way they tenderly move against yours, making you feel those butterflies again. Xavier’s fingers graze your jaw, his touch feather-light at first, before he cups your cheek in his hand, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, his lips pressing more firmly against yours. You let out a soft sigh, as your hands instinctively move to grip the fabric of his shirt.

Suddenly, breathless, he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes search yours, “Is this okay?” he asks.

You can barely form words, your heart pounding in your chest. “More than okay,” you manage to whisper, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

Before you can say anything more, his mouth is on yours again. His lips moving hungrily against yours, his hand holding the back of your head as he pulls you closer. Your fingers find purchase in his hair - his soft, fluffy hair – every graze of his lips stealing your breath away. All you can feel is him—the way his hands trace down your back, pressing you flush against him, his scent, his warm breath and the taste of his lips.

Xavier’s hands slide along your side, his fingertips grazing the thin fabric of your nightgown. He shifts his weight, and you sink back onto the mattress, his body following until he hovers over you, his hands resting on either side of your head. Your legs part instinctively, and he accepts the invitation without a second thought. The soft fabric of your nightgown rides up, bunching around your hips as his body presses flush against yours, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. The only barriers between you are the thin fabric of his pajama pants and your undergarments, and they’re doing nothing to dull the dizzying feeling of his hard length perfectly pressed against your clothed slit.

Xavier groans softly, the sound vibrating against your lips as he kisses you deeply, his tongue teasing yours in a way that makes your toes curl. His hands find your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he rolls his hips against yours. His hard length grinds against your wet folds, and your back arches instinctively, seeking more of him.

He pulls away slightly, taking in the sight of your beautiful face as you moan under him. Then his lips trail over your jawline to your neck. His warm breath fans over your skin, and when his teeth graze the sensitive, thin skin on the side of your neck, a small whimper escapes you at the sensation. His tongue follows, soothing it, and you shiver beneath him, your hands clutching his shoulders, pulling him even closer. His hips grind harder now, the friction against your clit making you soak through the fabric of your underwear. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently as his lips return to yours, his kiss hungry, desperate. Every sensation is driving you closer to the edge, your hips moving in tandem with his, both of you chasing the pleasure. 

But then, he stills, his forehead pressing against yours as he catches his breath.

“We should slow down,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks.  

You blink up at him, dazed, your body still thrumming from his touch. “Why?”

He swallows hard, “You’re still recovering,” he says gently, his thumb brushing your cheek.

You want to protest, but the words get lost in your throat, and you can only nod. It’s frustratingly true—you’re not fully back to your strength, and he’s injured. He gives you a tender kiss, before lying back on the mattress. He pulls you into a soothing embrace, your head resting against his chest, your eyelids growing heavy at the sound of his heartbeat.

[anadiasmount]

now it's real - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: continuation of the "is this real?" parts! based on this request i received where jude gets the biggest surprise of all... can be real as a standalone also!!

wc: 1.6k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa 🗣️: hiiii!! when the anon asked me to do this I HAD TOOO!! you can find part one and part two here of the "is this real?" series! the fic has an insta au and story included all in one, like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

ynusername

liked by: judebellingham, gioreyna, jobebellingham, yourbsf, otherbsf, erlinghaaland, others.

ynusername: a one of a kind surprise 🤍

comments:

username290: HIS EARS!!!

judebellingham: family keeps growing, your welcome baby 🤍🙏

↪️ ynusername: best surprise ever :(((

gioreyna: coming over asap. going to teach him how to attack jude when he's being mean 👍👍

↪️ jobebellingham: i second guess this 👍

jobebellingham: 'its a german shepherd dog!' congrats you two! ❤️

user473: STOPP HES SO CUTE AND FLUFFYY

username33: aww :(( what's his name??

↪️ ynusername: his name is duke!!

user22: baby face!! he is so adorableeeeee

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judebellingham

liked by: ynusername, gioreyna, jobebellingham, marcoreus, jadonsancho, and 1,787,230.

judebellingham: when all he knows is how to play, bite, eat, and sleep 🙄🙄

comments:

ynusername: he's just a baby, let him be!! 😡😡

↪️ judebellingham: i wonder who he learns it from?? he's literally attached to you.

gioreyna: #attackingjudetrainingclasses are going very well i seem??

↪️ ynusername: they are indeed 🤭🤭

user44: stop his little floppy ears ❤️

username245: his tongue peeking out white he sleeps 😭😭

↪️ ynusername: just like jude fr 😂🤍

jobebellingham: why does he kinda look like you??

↪️ judebellingham: bc he's my kid obviously 😒

↪️ ynusername: our kid ***

username282: stop he has grown sm since the last time we saw him!!

user485: that second picture looks personal? what did you to do him jude??

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old ynusername stories from "duke's🌎 "

august 21' | september 21'' | december 21'

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old judebellingham stories from "y/n and duke 🤍"

october 22' | january 23' | may 23'

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“you know duke, if this is positive you’ll be a big brother right?” you say biting your nails, sitting in the carpet and scratching behind his ears, your words making him tense and bark. “yep. means you’ll have to protect another human, but it means more treats!” you say excited his tail wagging.

“i’m scared… this is scary duke… if i’m pregnant i don’t know how i’ll tell jude,” you frown, feeling duke set his head on your lap looking up at you. you had been feeling the symptoms for a month. constant nausea and headaches, taking naps earlier than usual, duke following you everywhere when he didn’t need to, or getting protective when someone came near you.

you had also missed your period, realizing that when you look at the box of pads/ tampons under the sink. you felt the random wave of emotions, the tiredness and aching back even after having a nice and relax day. all you needed was the test to confirm it. to confirm your worries and feelings.

as you felt anticipated, something inside you also felt panic. carrying a baby for nine months, the labor and delivery, the long road of recovery and now taking care for two. you’ve wanted to be a mom as long as you could remember, but now that reality was hitting, it made you overthink.

overthinking if you’d be enough for you and your baby, also jude and duke. being supportive even during the hard times especially now with jude. any traceable though ran through your head. but despite that, you were ready. you were young, had a stable job, a perfect relationship, and supportive family and friends. it was the perfect time to go from a family of three to four.

duke huffed and followed you to the restroom, waiting by the door as you took a breath of nervousness and tapped your nails against the marble counter. you needed to be sure, so you took three tests to make sure they all had the same result. tears were already beaming in your eyes, before you could even remove the box on top the tests.

with shaky hands and now shivers running along your body, you saw the plus sign and the double lines. you struggled a laugh and broke into tears excitedly. grabbing three of tests and looking at them closely to ensure you weren’t dreaming or your head playing games with you.

“duke! we’re having a baby! a baby inside me now! now wonder you followed me everywhere,” you say sarcastic, leaning down and placing kisses on his head, tail wagging. “i can’t believe it… me and jude are having a baby,” you say breathless looking out into the room and already picturing a crib and small stand where diapers and baby towels would be.

you pictured jude sitting on the bed, reading a story, kissing their cheeks, tucking them to sleep, making them laugh until they squealed or snorted. you brought a hand to your barely bump, rubbing it smoothly and feeling a wave of confidence and excitement run through you.

“let’s go! we need to find a perfect shirt to tell jude!”

you ended up taking duke to a local pet store, picking out a small bandana that mentioned he was going to be a big brother. then going to a crafts store to get a box and some paint, along with some confeti strips to place inside. the last thing to do was find a small real madrid jersey and baby replicas of jude’s iconic red predator boots he wore for his games.

you decide to wait it along to see if jude could fit the pieces together. not drinking coffee or refusing wine when he offered when eating dinner. declining a sushi date and going out to eat at one of your favorite outdoor spots in the city. saying no to going on a hike because you were afraid of falling or getting hurt before you could see the doctor.

jude couldn’t even see right through it. understanding maybe you were busy or tired after being at work. or giving you a small frown when you had to say no. or give you a confused face when you randomly eat your cravings. if there was one thing about jude, is that he is the slowest person, so of course he didn’t see this coming.

“you got not only an assist but goal as well tonight baby,” you say kissing his hand as you waited in the taxi to go home. to say you were nervous was an understatement. you were absolutely mortified to tell jude but you figured today would be the perfect night. after a special night in the bernabeu, you figured why not tell him.

“i’m feeling very much proud and in the mood for some celebration drinks. what do you say hmm? we open a bottle of wine and cuddle? maybe in time for some celebratory sex?” he teased kissing below your ear making you squirm. “jude!” you say refraining yourself, heat building up your cheeks and chest.

“what? i’d love to celebrate with my beautiful girlfriend tonight, and i will because i not only had an assist but winning goal,” jude smirked reciting your words in a teasing and flirty manner, making you hit his chest shyly. “ok keep the act up… you know you want it too,” he said turning away looking forward where the fans yelled his name and cheered.

you leaned up and kissed his cheek, grabbing his face and whispering an “i love you.” jude was in a daze, completely enamored by your beauty. drowning himself into your eyes and bright smile. you had this new thing shining across you, it looked like a fresh glow of something new along you. "i love you y/n." jude places a kiss on your lips, leaving you lingering and out of breath.

"looks like a package come," jude remarks, grabbing the wooden box and shaking it to see what was inside. "from the stork company," you say with a smile. "stork company? i've never heard of that," jude says dumbfounded, grabbing the keys and opening the door. he set the box down by the kitchen island and brought his bag to the laundry room.

jude return to see you propped on the island swinging your feet excitedly. "what are you hiding?" jude says suspiciously, raising his brow and coming over to you. "nothing... are you gonna open it?" you point to the box, hand running down his box. you look at your phone that was hidden and propped nearby, jude eyeing you againg before going to open it.

the familiar butterflies and adrenaline runs along your veins, your hand coming to your bump, as you bite you lip watching jude fiddle with the opening. jude scrunches his face confusedly, taking out the confeti. "duke!" you call out who was already wearing the bib.

jude stops what he’s doing, seeing the infant jersey and tiny football boots. he lets out a laugh, smiling upside down as he takes the baby jersey and holding it out, doing the same with the red predator boots. he glanced around eyes landing on you. “is this what i think it means?” jude says with tears in his eyes.

you giggle and nod quickly, feeling jude trace his hand on your thigh and the other behind your head. “you’re serious? we’re having a baby, y/n?” jude needs the confirmation before he can cheer outloud. a bubble of joystick trickling down his spine as he sees your eyes glimmering. “yes jude… i’m carrying our baby right now,” you look down a hand on your bump jude intaking a breath of air.

jude doesn’t waste any second, kissing you all over your face, tears running down his face emotional, whispering how much he was grateful and thanking you repeatedly making you cry out harder. “i-i-i can’t believe it… we’re having a baby y/n!” jude cheers wipping his face and looking at duke who wagged his tail.

“and you knew about this duke? and you didn’t tell me?” jude leaned down, scratching his ears and reading his small bandana. “no wonder yo wouldn’t let me get near momma. always barking or growling when i wanted to kiss her. not cool man…” he says playfully looking at you still in a daze.

“now you have to protect her from gio and jobe okay? if you do that it means more treats,” jude says teasingly making the german shepherd bark and jump. “oh god,” you chuckle, hand coming to your forehead already picturing the banter and training sessions.

“our family is getting bigger,” jude approaches you and leans down, kneeling and raising his jersey up. jude places delicate kisses in your tummy, making you squirm and hold the back of his head, watching with a huge grin. “my baby in there… i’ll protect you with my life. i love you already, and i can’t wait to meet you,” jude whispered lovingly, hugging your waist.

jude holds your bump, looking into your eyes and feeling your smaller hand interlock with his. “the greatest gift you could ever give me is this, thank you y/n,” jude says wiping a small streak from your cheek with his free hand. “i want to hold our baby now,” jude says along your lips. “patience jude, we have forever to cherish and hold our little one,” you peck his cheek and nose. “love you so much jude,” you kiss his lips slowly, relishing the memory that will forever hold your heart.

“also where did you find those small predator boots?”

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ynusername

liked by: judebellingham, gioreyna, jobebellingham, vinijr, tchuameli, brahimdiaz, audreylunin, yourbsf, yourbestie, others.

ynusername: yes rumors are true… patiently waiting for you angel 🥹🤍

comments:

judebellingham: couldn’t hold it in longer, you’re stunning baby 🤍

gioreyna: ❤️

jobebellingham: IM GOING TO BE AN UNCLE??? WHAT?? THIS IS HOW IM FINDING OUT?? 👎👎

↪️ ynusername: to be fair you’d probably spill the beans 😂🤍

yourbestie: BSJDJDJDUJD IM SO EXCITEDD 😣😣

username383: they’re going to be parents?? WERE GETTING DAD! JUDE???

user29: oh lord… i love this pregnancy announcement 🩷

sophiaamelia: congratulations beautiful! will be rooting for a boy!! how is duke taking it?? 😂💙

ynusername: ohh goshh he follows me everywhere i go 😭😂

↪️ judebellingham: he refuses to leave her side, i can’t even hug or kiss her without him barking at me 😒😒

↪️ gioreyna: LFMOAOSOS 😭

username1092: ISNDDNKSKSBBD HELLO WHAT?? THIS IS ONE WAY TO CONFIRM IT!!

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judebellingham

liked by: yourusername, realmadrid, gioreyna, jobebellingham, brahimdiaz, thiboutcortois, yourfriend, vinijr, aurelitchuameli, camavinga, 3,904,999 others.

judebellingham: not only have i been gifted with the most unforgettable gift, but i get to do this along such a strong and beautiful woman. y/n i love you so much 🤍

comments:

yourusername: JUDEEEEE 😣😣 stop i’ll cry and my hormones all over the place 💔

camavinga: congratulations bro ❤️

vinijr: HERMANOOO FELICIDADES!! ❤️

brahimdiaz: UN BEBÉ?? HERMANOOOOO FELICIDADES 🤍

gioreyna: so happy for you bro ❤️

user453: the way he holds her ☹️☹️

jobebellingham: i still can’t believe this is how i’m finding out??

↪️ judebellingham: you’re shit at keeping secrets jobe 😭😒

danicarvajal: enhorabuena jude! el regalo mas hermoso es esto ❤️

lukamodric: jude you’re so young 😂 congratulations golden boy! 😂🤍

↪️ judebellingham: thank you luka 😂🤍

nachofernandez: enhorabuena judey y y/n ❤️ nueva adición al equipo y familia!

username234: OMGG SHES SO BEAUTIFUL?? 😍

user49384: JUDE YOURE SO LUCKY 😣

userreee23423: she looks so stunning… like i will never get over this 😣😣😣

username9579: THEIR ANNOUNCEMENT HAS BEEN MY FAVORITE OUT OF EVERYONE!!! so happy for you two!!

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ynusername added to their stories!

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judebellingham added to their insta stories!

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ynusername & judeballingham

liked by: ynusername, judebellingham, gioreyna, jobebellingham, vinijr, brahimdiaz, camavinga, england, realmadrid, others!

ynusername & judeballingham: our bundle of joy has joined us and we couldn’t be anymore happier 🤍

comments are restricted!

realmadrid: enhorabuena jude y y/n!

england: congratualtions you two!

camavinga: congratulations! ❤️

vinijr: hermanoo felicidades !!! 🤩

gioreyna: you’re going to be great parents! congratulations you two! can’t wait to meet baby ❤️

jobebellingham: proud uncle! very happy! 💙

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[feligayzed]

your p.ai.nter and your surface au are making me ILL (positive) im a huge huge fan ...

UM! if youd allow me to ask can you tell me all about surface au .... i need to know everything about them so i can be MORE ILL ABOUT THEM!!

HIHIHI!!! AUGH I finally have time to sit down and yap, I've been thinking about this ask all day SKJSJCJ AAAA FIRST AND FOREMOST I'm so glad you're enjoying it and it's making you deathly ill!!!! Good!!! Suffer!!! Along with me and the five other mentally unbalanced watercolor heathens here 🙂‍↕️ /silly

So!! Originally I thought it up just as an excuse to draw human(ish) Seb kissing and cuddling a robot in dire need of it, but then I Thought some more and it transformed into a hurt/comfort/healing au?? The healing being from the shared trauma they endured back at the Blacksite (working through it via various measures and expanding their relationship as a whole), while simultaneously learning how to function in a modern world they are very much unfamiliar with

The general premise is Sebastian gains most of his human form back, with Painter to help assist him in recovery, like physical therapy and reintroducing him to society XD Sebastian having a difficult time processing emotions now that he's free and it all has time to sink in, etc etc~ The same goes for Painter, however, and they're just gonna have to work it out together cuz they got BAGGAGE no therapist is qualified for. Our dear Painter has their fair share of shit too, such as the sapiency debate most people have an aversion to (because how could an object process thoughts and emotions in a meaningful way?? Unheard of! /sar)

And the rest is just domestic silliness because they're allowed some happiness 😁 and because I'm under the firm belief Sebastian would become a house wife if someone let him /hj

But that's basically it!! One big fat drawing prompt really (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) I commend you for making it through this whole yap sesh fr 🙏 if you're still interested just let me know and if I have sudden Thoughts I'm more than happy to drop them unannounced 💥💥💥 DOODLES FROM MY SHITFIC AS A TREAT‼️

[interesting-interludes]

the comforts of creatures (6)

creature comforts:

↳ material/bodily comforts, such as food, warmth, or special accommodations, that contribute to physical ease and well-being

→ pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

→ genre: supernatural!au, soulmate!au, hurt + comfort + recovery, angst with a happy ending, fluff, eventual smut

→ word count: 4k

→ summary: you share a meal with your rescuers.

→ trigger/content warnings: PTSD (nightmares/flashbacks, mistrust), mentions of torture + forced sensory/sleep deprivation

→ a/n: a little comfort before more hurt

past part ← series masterlist → next part

part 6: the first breakfast

The last thing you want to do is sleep. Bad things always happen when you fall asleep.

You remember all the times you were strapped to the chair, headphones taped onto your ears, blindfold blocking out every bit of light, completely devoid of all outside stimuli. They would keep you there for hours, waiting until your head lolled or your body sagged, any indication that you weren’t wide awake.

Then came the electricity, flowing through your veins like liquid fire, shocking you awake. Again and again and again, until the mere thought of sleep made a jolt run through your body.

All the times they drugged your food, sinking you into a deep state of unconsciousness, then waking up with whip marks and bruises that felt bone-deep.

Then there was the nightmares. Unspeakable nightmares.

No, you can’t sleep. You don’t care how safe this place may seem, you still can’t let yourself slip.

You sit there in that massive bed for what feels like hours, feeling the strange sensation of a cushioned mattress and soft sheets. To feel warm and comfortable is still completely foreign to you.

You don’t dare lie down or rest your head on the plush pillows in case you fall asleep. Or worse, someone sees and punishes you for being on a bed and not on the floor where you belong.

The men here don’t seem bothered by it, but something deep in your mind tells you it’s all a lie. They’re only pretending to be so kind, so generous. It will all come crashing down soon enough.

So you shuffled off the bed and pressed your back to the wall, wrapping your arms around your legs with your knees tucked under your chin.

The strange feeling in your chest is back, and you don’t like it.

You watch as the moonlight seeps through the curtains and crawls across the walls, shifting with the changing hours. All throughout the night, the feeling in your chest blooms and dulls, like a pulsing radar that senses something random and unknown.

This whole thing is so strange. You haven’t decided what you’re going to do yet. Stay or leave, run or linger. There’s no guarantee that you’ll find someplace as accommodating as this one. There’s also no guarantee that the men here are exactly what they seem to be.

You don’t know how long you sit there, eyeing the smooth cool linen you were just surrounded by.

They didn’t show any sign that they were bothered by you using their bed, dirtying their sheets with your non-human skin. But you still don’t want to risk it.

Sleep tugs at your resolve, it makes your eyelids flutter and your mouth hang open. You have to fight it off, rapidly blinking your eyes back open and straitening your posture so you don’t go limp.

You can’t be asleep, you just can’t.

After the moonlight fades, you busy yourself inspecting the rest of the room, crawling on the ground so no one will hear you snooping around. Even the carpet is plush and pillowy. This place is so soft, it doesn’t make sense.

Almost the entirety of the room is lined with floor-to-ceiling windows covered by gauzy curtains. The ceiling too has a large skylight that shows the dark sky above.

You can’t remember the last time you were in a room as open and airy as this one.

There’s the massive bed with all its fluffy pillows and plushies, like the giant stuffed bear and cute yellow duck tucked in the corner. Along the edges of the bed are some little tables with softy-lit lamps and candles.

There’s a simple fireplace against the opposite wall, surrounded by two large bookshelves. Overhead is a projector mounted to the ceiling, pointing to the blank wall directly across from it.

By the time you’re done inspecting the room’s every nook and cranny, the first few rays of pale sunlight are starting to peek through the clouds.

You crawl over to the closest window and gently draw back the curtain.

Morning mist drapes over the dense forest and rolling hills. The sky behind it is gray and cloudy, showcasing the chill of the outside air.

It’s then that you decide to stay here another day. You’d rather take your chances here for just a bit longer than venture out into that wilderness. Because by the looks of it, this place isn’t near any obvious civilization.

Curiosity stirs within you. Your hand hovers over the latch to the window, asking a silent question you’re not sure you want answered.

A flick of your fingers, and the latch comes undone without protest. The window slides open with ease, and a gust of fresh wind hits your face.

You aren’t locked in. You aren’t trapped.

The wind is sharp and refreshing. There’s the faint smell of pine, then a brisk slightly floral scent that makes the breath in your chest hitch slightly.

It’s a luxury you’ve dearly missed.

You stay there for a while, just breathing in the outside air, until a deep growl from your stomach makes you realize that you haven’t actually digested a proper meal in a long time.

Then the empty glass and pitcher of water on one of the side tables catches your eye. Another luxury you haven’t known for a long while: clean water.

You grab the glass and shakily fill it to the top, tipping your head back to down the entire thing in a few gulps. The thought that it might be spiked does cross your mind, but you figure that if they wanted to drug you they would’ve done it by now. So you drink until the dry ache in your throat has subsided.

The door is still open a crack. Holding your breath, you push it open a little more and peer through the gap.

The hallway is empty. You poke your head out, cautiously looking around before stepping out of the room.

You don’t know where you’re going, but there’s an appetizing smell tugging you in the direction of the grand staircase.

Slowly placing your foot on each wooden step to make the least amount of noise, you enter the living room. It’s empty too, and also lit up by morning light from the tall windows lining the walls.

The smell draws you into the kitchen, where Jin is standing over the sizzling stove.

He doesn’t turn around when you enter the room, but he knows you’re there. His heightened hearing picked up on your soft footfalls from upstairs.

“Good morning,” he says warmly.

It startles you a bit, shocked that he noticed let alone acknowledged you.

Jin gives you a smile over his shoulder.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, his expression open and nonjudgmental as he waits for your answer.

You nod after a hesitant pause.

Jin’s chest lights up with pride at the fact that you’re starting to feel comfortable expressing your wants and needs.

You feel the shadow of it in your own chest, but to you it just feels like a strange dull ache. It’s confusing and slightly alarming, but you keep your face expressionless.

“Have a seat at the table if you want and I’ll get you something to eat,” he says, setting a large kettle on the stove and turning on the burner.

For a minute, you just stand there watching him, almost mesmerized. He has broad shoulders that add to his naturally commanding aura, but the way he moves is nothing but calm and steady. There’s a fluidity to everything he does, and a timeless grace that’s somehow just as firm as it is gentle. Maybe it’s because of his vampiric blood.

He’s dressed in slacks and a white button-down, polished black dress shoes on his feet. His hair is neatly styled, bangs pushed back from his forehead.

There’s no denying that he’s a very attractive man.

The feeling in your chest starts to burn again, and you hurriedly make your way to the large dining table before he notices your discomfort.

You shift your attention to the details of your environment.

The table occupies the open space between the kitchen and living area, so you can easily see into both rooms. Dried herbs and hanging plants drape from the kitchen ceiling, along with the modern yet elegant light fixtures.

You almost can’t fathom the sheer size and quality of this house. You suppose seven men would need a lot of space, but you can’t help but wonder how they maintain it all.

Because something deep in your memory tells you that you came from humble beginnings. You don’t belong in a house like this.

The next second, a small bowl is being set down in font of you. A scoop of vanilla yogurt, fresh blueberries, a sprinkle of granola, and a drizzle of honey.

“Let’s start with this,” Jin says. “And if you can keep it down I’ll get you some else, okay?”

You nod, briefly meeting his eyes before looking down at the table again.

He steps back into the kitchen as the kettle begins to whistle and release a swirling tower of steam into the air.

You bring a spoonful to your lips and swallow it down, pausing for a few minutes to see if it will crawl back up in a fit of nausea. After nothing bad happens, you quickly shovel the rest of it down. It’s sweet and juicy and smooth down your throat. 

Footsteps sound from the hallway. The man called Yoongi enters the room, looking half-asleep. His dark hair is tousled, eyelids drooping as he waddles over to the kitchen counter. He’s dressed in an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants. The clothes are so big they make the man seem small and even...cute. Despite the fact that he seemed so intimidating before.

Jin doesn’t look up at the sound of the younger man’s bare feet padding against the tile, but he does extend his arm to brush against Yoongi’s back as he walks past him.

“Go sit down, love. I’ll make the coffee,” Jin says, carefully spooning dark powder into a stovetop espresso pot.

The dark-haired man blinks sleepily, looking like he wants to protest, but he eventually stumbles over to the table and sinks down across from you.

Jin knows that Yoongi is probably still drained from the effort it took to break through the wards of the facility. A spell of that magnitude takes an immense amount of strength, especially for a single caster.

Under any other circumstances, Yoongi would’ve stayed in bed to rest, but he felt the same twinge in his heartstrings that Jin felt when you responded to his offer for food. He dragged himself out of bed to see how you were doing.

He doesn’t doubt that the others felt it too, they’ll probably be joining them any minute now. 

Yoongi tries to give you a warm glance, but all your attention is directed down at the table.

By the time Jin sets the freshly packed espresso pot on the stove, you’ve practically licked the bowl clean.

He’s quick to notice, at your side the moment you set down your spoon.

“Ready for more?” he asks with another calming smile.

He thought of simply bringing you more food, but he didn’t want you to think that they expected you to finish everything they put in front of you. He wants you to know that you have choices here, and hopefully it will make you more comfortable expressing yourself.

You nod, and both Jin and Yoongi feel their chests swell.

Jin glides back into the kitchen to grab the still-sizzling pan and steaming kettle from the stove. He pours the boiling water into a large white teapot on the table, already prepped with tea bags, and slides the cooked meat onto a large tray.

It’s then that you notice that the table is set with enough plates, glasses, and mugs for eight people. There’s a pot of fresh rice in the center of the table, along with a platter of cut-up fruit and a plate stacked with some kind of fluffy pastry.

The next moment, two more sets of footsteps sound from the stairs. It’s the fair-haired man, Jimin, and the muscular one. Both of their faces are puffy, their eyes half-closed as they stagger down the stairs. Jimin’s form is dwarfed by an oversized hoodie, while the muscular one is wearing a white tank top and sweatpants that hang low on his hips.

Usually Jungkook would forgo the shirt and sometimes the pants, walking around the house in just his boxer-briefs. But then he remembered that even though you’ve seen his body thousands of times, you’re essentially a stranger to them now.

Jimin looks at you from under his hood with sleepy eyes, through the tufts of fluffy hair, and waves with a smile.

The chest-feeling is getting more distracting.

He sinks down beside Yoongi, who is sat directly across from you, and Jungkook moves to sit next to you on the other side of the table, but chickens out at the last second and sits in the chair one space over.

“Did you sleep well?” Jimin asks, tearing open one of the pastries and spreading jam onto the flaky layers.

A beat of silence passes before you realize that he’s talking to you.

Looking, they’re all looking at you. Lungs hitching, you fix your gaze on the wood of the table and clench your teeth.

You didn’t sleep at all, but you’re not about to tell them that.

You probably couldn’t get your voice to work if you wanted it to, so you sit in the awkward silence, praying that their eyes fall on anything but you.

“I slept pretty well. You, hyung?” Jimin replies to his own question nonchalantly, quick to dissolve the tension.  

“Like a drunk rock,” the older man answers just as casually.

Jin glides back into the room, placing the now steaming espresso pot in front of Yoongi and adding more cooked meat to the tray in the center of the table.

“Like a tranquilized rock. I could hear you snoring from across the hall,” Jin quips before practically floating back to the kitchen. His steps barely even make noise as he walks.

They all know that Yoongi only snores when he’s in the deepest of sleeps. People of Yoongi’s kind don’t technically need sleep, but after the effort it took to break down those wards, he definitely needed it.

“I think it’s going to rain today,” Jungkook says as he plucks pieces of fruit from the platter and pops them in his mouth.

It’s a pretty obvious statement. It’s early spring, so it rains almost every day here. They can all see the dark clouds and brisk, cutting wind through the windows, but it’s an attempt at small talk. Because JK can hardly stand how uncomfortable you look. It makes him want to snatch you up and hide you in his room and smother you in all the affection you missed out on while you were gone.

But he knows he can’t, and it makes his heart sag as you shift uneasily in your seat, eyes downcast.

Because you can’t help but wonder how can they just sit there rattling off pleasantries when you’re a stranger in their beautiful house.

You’re an outsider, a charity case. You can’t even tell them your name, and they’ve let you invade their peace without so much as a unfriendly glance. 

Just as a burning question starts to crawl up your throat, another set of footsteps enters the room.

Hoseok, the lean dark-haired man, shuffles to the table. His eyes are barely open and his lips are puffed up in a groggy pout.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice tinged deep and thick but still cheerful.

Jimin pulls him into the seat next to him, playfully ruffling his already messy hair.

Namjoon is right on his heels, sauntering into the room with his nose in his notebook. He’s already dressed in a gray suit, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, pen twirling in his right hand.

He takes a seat at the left end of the table, looking up to give you small smile. You would’ve missed it if his presence wasn’t so demanding of your attention.

“Lovely sight first thing in the morning,” his husky voice calls, and it seems to send warm sparks of...something throughout your chest cavity.

Jin appears again, coffee pot in hand, circling around the table and filling everyone’s mugs. He then takes a seat at the right end of the table, so him and Namjoon can survey the rest of them.

They’ve all started loading their plates, sweetening their coffee with milk and sugar and caramel drizzles.

Jin pours himself a cup of tea from the large white teapot, spooning an almost ridiculous amount of honey into the amber liquid. But the honey suits him. Warm-tinged, naturally sweet, heavy on your tongue. He seems to leave a trail of it wherever he goes, along with the tangy scent of citrus.

Namjoon looks up from his notebook, scanning the table.

“Where’s—” He’s answered a second later when the curly-haired man descends down the staircase. He looks just as sleepy as the rest of them. Well, maybe not Jin and Namjoon, but his eyes are dark-rimmed and his mouth is set in the same half-awake pout.

But all of that seems to flicker away in an instant when he catches sight of you. It’s like your face is a bucketful of ice water, chilling him into a strange sense of alertness.

He surveys the table, noticing that the only open seat is the one directly next to you.

You look away before you can see the realization play out on his face. Reading people isn’t exactly your expertise, but you can tell when someone looks at you with disdain. Of course you do, it’s all your scattered memory can recall. And you know that Taehyung doesn’t like you.

He ducks his head as he reluctantly sits down at the table, stiff in the limbs.

If the others notice, they don’t show it.

Jin is busy making a plate for you: seared meat on a bed of rice, a side of sliced fruit, and a pastry smothered in butter.

He places it in front of you with that same nonchalance. It says eat what you want, no one here is going to judge you.

It’s a little surprising how easily you believe him.

You hesitantly pick up the fork beside your plate, eyeing the others to see if they react negatively. None of them do, there’s only slightly curious and attentive expressions thrown your way.

They’re trying hard not to stare, trying hard not to look hopeful as you survey the food.

You poke at the meat, mouth watering at its savory aroma.

You bring a forkful to your mouth. Just chewing the protein makes you feel more full than you have in months.

The boys try to contain their joy when you start to eagerly eat mouthful after mouthful.

Jin and Namjoon exchange a near ecstatic glance across the table. The others look at each other too, endeavoring to suppress their excitement.

You don't know it, but this is a significant moment. Breakfast has always been important to all of you. Jin and Namjoon leave for work early in the morning. The rest of them are freelancers, but they wake up early so you can all eat together at least once a day, in case Jin and Joon aren't home in time for dinner.

This is the first time you've all been together to share a meal like this since your disappearance.

A comfortable hush falls over the room as everyone eats and sips at their coffee, with the occasional comment or question tossed into the air.

You barely hear it, too focused on the food. It's all so luxurious, the well-seasoned meat, the fresh fruit. You can't remember, no matter how hard you try, the last time you had a meal like this.

Your mind starts to clear once your plate is licked clean, and thank heavens it seems to be staying down.

The men, they're talking about the weather. Here you are, a stranger, a nuisance, at their table. And they're talking about the weather, treating you like you're one of them, when everything inside is screaming that you are anything but.

The slam of silverware, and everyone looks up in slight shock. It's only after a few seconds that you realize it was you who made the noise.

Everyone's eyes on you, but you don't care. The questions itch too bad.

"What now?" you say, voice shaking despite your best efforts.

They all look at each other.

"What do you mean, love?" Jin replies, his expression calm.

You scan each of their faces, trying to answer the indefinable question floating in your mind. They're all looking at you with something heavy and strange in their eyes.

"What happens now?" you say, trying to keep your hands from shaking.

"Well, you're still getting used to things. I'd say the next step is a brain scan, to see if there's any more damage, and maybe if we can recover some of your memories," Jin answers.

You want to ask how he knew that you were missing your memories, but Yoongi interrupts the thought.

"Today we can show you around the house, maybe you can meet the pets if you'd like," he says.

They'd kept the animals separate from you, knowing that they'd all rush to jump all over you after your absence, especially the dogs.

You look down at the table.

"What other questions do you have?" Jin asks kindly.

You can still feel their eyes on you, but your gaze is fixed down at your empty plate.

"Why were you there?" you ask in a voice barely above a whisper.

A pause, and you look up to find a mixture of confusion and hesitation on their faces.

"At the facility. Why were you there?"

You remember them busting down the walls, mowing down guards, Jin cradling you in his arms like you were a long lost lover.

"The F&F has a reputation for taking atypical prisoners. We were hoping to rescue them," Namjoon says. It's not a lie, they did free all the other atypicals in the building, but he left out the fact that they were there looking for you.

"Why?" you ask. There's a heavy sensation in your chest.

"Because the F&F deserves to rot in hell for what they've done," Taehyung blurts out before he can help it. Jungkook puts a hand on shoulder, a gentle warning not to scare you.

Namjoon sighs when confusion clouds your features.

"Because we look out for people like us," he says.

You don't know what to say to that. A moment of silence falls upon the room.

"Well," Jin says, wiping the side of his mouth with a napkin and getting up out of his seat. "I think it's high time we show you around."

[evelyn-and-art]

“As the cold sinks deep into every crevice, I hope my love gives you warmth.”

My submission for Week 2 of Tea’s SuoSaku Monsterfucking Month. With the prompt “He Came Back Wrong”, I decided on a Xianxia AU featuring demonic cultivator! Suo and fierce corpse! Sakura.

Extras (and lore) + Topless Version

Topless Version [TW: (softcore) necrophilia, loss of body parts (but it’s wrapped/stitched), scars (if you’re squeamish about that) & implied decapitation and torture]

—

The idea came from @ros-ales who said to me,

She knows me so well <3. Me thinks Nirei didn’t intend for Suo to actually go through with it, they’re all in mourning after discovering Sakura’s remains and a lot of things can be said carelessly in the moment. Unfortunately, Suo was already unhinged to begin with and Sakura’s death just made him spiral down further. So yeah, this is both horny and sad. Horny sad. (Week 3 is just horny, promise 🖐️😔)

They also gave me the idea for Sakura’s left eye (or lack thereof 😭) since his golden eye might be a valuable prize for some (in this AU skr was considered one of the strongest cultivators in their generation) and I’d imagine the opposing sect responsible for his torture and death would do something like that. Why is it not back in his body like his head? Uhhh, me thinks his scarred eye serves for better storytelling. Oh! And Sakura’s choppy haircut was the result of his head being *gestures to the neck*. Between you and me, Suo has some of the hair remains kept preserved in a pouch inside his magical storage sleeves.

-bUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE:

In East Asian culture, the standard practice in wearing traditional robes was left over right; in China, this is called Yòurèn (右衽, lit. right lapel). The opposite, Zuǒren (左衽, lit. left lapel), is commonly used for the deceased.

Considering in this AU Suo dresses Sakura daily, he was initially hesitant in putting on the robe the appropriate way since it would be the final nail to the coffin (ha!) so to speak—thank you to @psychicwavementality for this additional tidbit! Ah, but I love making Suo lowkey insane so eventually he gave into his delulu and dresses Sakura as if he were still alive. It terrifies and worries the sect though, they’re scared of what might happen if they address this to Suo directly (Suo left quite the mess in their first recovery of Sakura’s body) so they continue to indulge with the pretense. It goes without saying that this is not a healthy way to cope, like at all. If you ask the sect, they would say they’re doing this for Suo, but remember it’s not just Suo who was devastated by Sakura’s death.

—

Week 3 is already out as well since I was working on it at the same time ^^. Ahhh sorry this is so late Tea ( ˶╥﹏╥)7

[twignotstick]

Broken Brothers (and How to Fix Them)

Part 1 🧡

Note: This story is based on @cupcakeslushie 's Empyrean Weeping au. These characters are not my own, and this story is in no way canon to the main story. I wrote this as my love letter to the story and the characters. Especially April :)

(And because the au comp has made me go rabid, but that's another problem 🤡)

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Mikey & April, Raph & April, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Empyrean Weeping AU, recovery, cooking, mental issues, talking it out because we're adults, sickness, sickfic (kinda)

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): small physical injury, mention of past injury, description of scars

Words: 2,107

Summary: April was able to figure out her first brother easily. Now, she gets three more, with a couple more issues to worry about.

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

In the few weeks since Mikey had come home, April had been having a blast. Don't get her wrong, she loved Raph. He was her brother. Her best friend, even. But sometimes he could be a little… overbearing? Sensitive? Thought she was dying when she got her period?

Mikey was fun. He swore like a sailor, which made Raph go crazy. He loved talking and listening, even when he wasn't really interested in April's rambling. And ever since Splinter had first shown him the kitchen, they all found out that he could cook.

According to him, he had cooked some before, when he was younger. But man, once he had access to the recipes of the internet, Mikey was an incredible chef. Every morning, he'd wake up to make breakfast for everyone. April had even made a habit of showing up to eat breakfast with the mutants.

It had all been going great! Mikey was adjusting perfectly!

And then he got sick.

April figured it was probably because of the sudden change of scenery. His body was still catching up, and coming to the surface for the first time in his life didn't help either. It was at the most a bad cold, but his nose was stuffed and his throat sounded like a clogged sink. He kept getting coughing fits and dizzy spells.

April had come down to visit. She wanted to check on Mikey, and on Raph. He had gone full protective Mama Bear mode as soon as Mikey even got the slightest hint of a sniffle. April knew that if he didn't get a moment to relax and not worry about his sick brother, he'd probably pull something and get sick himself.

When she arrived to a panicked Raph tossing around couch cushions, she knew her damage control would need to be in high gear.

“Raph?” April asked quietly, dropping her backpack off her shoulder and lowering it next to the couch. “Everything alright, big guy?”

“APRIL!” Raph dropped the pillows he had been holding and whipped around to face her. “Have you seen Mikey?! I went into his room to get him up and he wasn't there. Did you see him on your way in?!”

“Uh, no?” April stepped up and placed a hand on Raph's shoulder. “Take a second and breathe, Raph. With me. In and out.”

April guided Raph's breathing until he finally looked like he had his head on straight again. “Good job,” she whispered. “Now, you said he wasn't in his room.”

“No,” Raph said quickly. “I checked there. I looked under his sheets, I know-”

“Okay, I believe you. Did you check the bathroom?”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...Raph.”

“I WAS FREAKING OUT! I'VE BEEN SCREAMING HIS NAME, HE SHOULD'VE-”

“Okay, okay, it's okay!” April held her hands out placatingly. “I get it. He's your brother, it's okay to be worried about him. Maybe all the gunk in his nose got up in his ears and he couldn't hear you.” She breathed deeply. “Listen, you go check the bathroom and the dojo. Even if you already checked, check again. I'm gonna go to the kitchen and make myself something, because school lunch sucked today and I'm starving.” April grabbed Raph's shaking hand. “We'll find him.”

Raph took a deep breath and released it, holding April's hand loosely. “Right. We'll find him. He's gonna be okay. Raph's gonna be okay, because Mikey's gonna be okay!”

“Yes, yes, that's right Raph.” April's tone shifted on a dime. “Now go. Shoo. Skedaddle. I got food to eat.”

Raph shooed away timidly. April knew that he was just trying to make sure his baby brother was okay, but jeez. Not even checking the bathroom first? If you're going to lose track of someone, at least start looking for them in a reasonable place.

April made it to the kitchen and stopped suddenly at the doorway, almost shouting out for Raph immediately.

Come on, Raph. There isn't even a door here. Mikey was in clear view of anyone passing by the kitchen.

She saw the scarred, scratched shell of Mikey standing at the counter. She hadn't ever seen the shell from this angle; looking at it straight on. She'd seen it from the side, but looking at it now, it looked 10 times as painful. The gouges were deep.

What kind of monster could have done that to a kid this young?

Why was that kid out of bed right now he's sick why is he-

Mikey turned away from the counter with a plate in his hand. His blurry eyes caught sight of April at the door. He sniffled quietly then rasped, “Hey April. You're here early… You hungry? I'm gonna make some-” he was interrupted by a cough- “s-some… something. I’unno yet.”

“Mikey?” April walked into the kitchen to investigate what he'd been doing. There was a small mixing bowl to the side of the sink and a cup of water. Not even a measuring cup, but one of the old plastic cups they kept in the lower cabinets with a worn cartoon graphic on the side, barely even there after years of washing. “Buddy, you don't need to do that. You're sick. What do you mean ‘early’? It's, like, 4:30.”

Mikey blinked slowly. “Y…yeah. 4:30.”

“P.M., Mike.”

“...oh.”

“Do you usually get up that early? That's not healthy, Mikey.” April started walking around the kitchen island and grabbed one of the stools to pull it out. “You should sit down.”

“Wh- wha? I don't… I don' need to sit down. I gotta make breakfast.” Mikey still clutched the plate in his hands, a shaky smile on his face.

“Mikey, it's almost 5 in the afternoon. You don't need to make breakfast. Sit down, I'm gonna make some food for myself anyway.”

Mikey looked like he was getting more confused by the second. His eyes were watering, but April couldn't tell if that was due to the sickness or him genuinely being upset. “B-but I need to make breakfast.” He turned back to his hodge-podge cooking setup, plate still in his right hand. “W-wait, I can figure out something to make.” He sniffled loudly, catching in his throat and causing him to cough. “I got it, y-you just go see R-Raph!”

“No, Mikey. You need to sit down. Please, I-”

April was cut off by the sound of Mikey sneezing loudly. The force of the sneeze caused Mikey's arm to flail, shattering the plate in his hand on the edge of the sink. His dazed eyes stared at the pieces as they scattered both in the sink and across the tile. April held her hand over her mouth.

Mikey started mumbling curses and apologies under his breath as he kneeled to the floor, picking up the porcelain shards with his bare hands.

“MIKEY!” April rushed over the wreckage, grabbing Mikey by the shoulders and lifting him up. His hands were slightly cut up already by the sharp edges he had grabbed, and his knees had hit some too. “What are you doing?! You are going to sit down now.”

“B-but- But I-”

“Mikey.”

“B-but I broke the-”

“Sit.”

Mikey's tears were almost spilling over, but with April's help, he was able to sit at the kitchen island. His hands and knees were bleeding slightly, but nothing bad. Nothing near as bad as he'd seen, April guessed.

“I'm going to grab the first aid kit. Raph should be here any minute, if he isn't already eavesdropping. While I'm cooking, you can talk to me. Tell me how to make the ramen good like you make it. I'll make it spicy to open up your nose, just how you like. That's what I need you to do today, okay Mikey?”

Mikey looked like he wanted to fidget with his hands, but he knew that wouldn't be good. Wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand, he whispered, “Okay, April.”

April walked to the door, only to find Raph hurriedly coming from the bathroom with the first aid kit already in hand. “Really, Raph?”

“I heard the plate break, what was I supposed to do?” Raph whined with a guilty look on his face.

“Not act like your brother broke, maybe.”

Raph sighed and kept moving past April, sitting down next to Mikey without saying a word. He held out a hand which Mikey met, letting Raph analyze the damage. “We've all broken plates before, it's alright Mike.”

Mikey just hummed, shaking up the phlegm in his throat and getting him coughing again. Raph's eyes widened wildly, but April stared him down the moment he tried moving toward Mikey. Despite the snapper's intimidating stature, he shrank under April's glare.

April smirked and grabbed a ramen pack from the pantry. “So, Angelo,” she said, grabbing a pot from the overhead rack and turning to the turtles, “where do we start?”

Taking a second to compose himself, Mikey started instructing. “If you're making it for both of us, use two packs. A-and don't use that stupid sauce pack stuff they include with it, use actual sauce. I put it up in the…”

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

When it was done, it was by far the best ramen April had ever made. Not the best she had ever eaten, (that prize belonged to Mikey), but it was still really good. Mikey seemed to like it too, and his gloomy demeanor was finally lessening.

Raph left the room shortly after the two started eating. Partly because he wanted to check on his dad, partly because he wanted to rest after over exerting himself in his search for Mikey, and partly because of the look April was giving him. She wanted to have a chat with Mikey, and that was apparent. 

Now, the two sat silently, eating their noodles. April sat just around the corner of the island. She didn't want to sit opposite him, but didn't feel like sitting right next to him. This just felt right.

“You know we want you here, right?” April asked softly.

“What?” Mikey's throat had cleared up just a bit, as well as his sinuses, allowing him to speak more clearly.

“We want you here. You know that, right?”

“W… w-well, yeah! I mean, Raph and Dad literally agreed to fight in the Battle Nexus to get me out! A-and you keep showing me such cool stuff, and bringing me nice things, and-”

“And we're always going to want you here,” April pressed firmly. “You don't need to worry about making us want you here.

“...what?”

“You don't need to worry about making us food, or cleaning up a mess you can't clean up on your own. Especially when you're sick. We should be taking care of you right now.”

Mikey fiddled with his chopsticks, looking back and forth from April to his noodles.

“And it doesn't matter what you do. We'll always want you here. You're family. Doesn't matter if you can't make breakfast, or if you break a plate-”

“Or if I eat the last slice of pizza?” Mikey asked timidly, simultaneously admitting to a most heinous crime.

“Even if you eat the last slice of pizza.” April smirked and pointed at Mikey. “But that's thin ice, bud.”

Mikey laughed for the first time April had heard all day. Sure, it was only a little giggle, and it kicked up another small coughing fit, but it didn't matter. The fun brother she had begun caring so deeply about was finally sitting in front of her again.

“Bad habits are tough to crack,” April sighed. “I'm gonna help you realize that, and it might take a while. Just please, don't forget we love you.”

Mikey nodded.

“You know,” April said, leaning back on her stool and swinging her legs up to sit criss-cross, “I really do love you like a brother already. And I really, really want you to stay. Sooo, imagine how Raph and Splints must feel. Outta this world love, right?”

Mikey's smile softened. “Guess you're right.”

“Course I am!” April stood up with her empty ramen bowl. “I'm gonna put this in the sink for me to wash later, and you're gonna put yours there too when you're done. How's watching some mindless cartoons sound for the rest of the afternoon? I bet I can get Splints to give up the TV.”

Mikey held his chopsticks close and gave the sweetest, most doe-eyed expression. “Do you think I could get one of Raph's plushies, too?”

April huffed a laugh. “Boy, if you asked him with that face, I think he'd give you his whole collection.”

Mikey's face morphed into a mischievous grin. “I'll take that challenge.”

○●○●○●○

The spirits of the tmnt au comp possessed me. I've already written a second part for this. You'll never guess who it's about 🔵🐢

Again, this is my love letter to EW! I am in no way involved with EW, I just wanted to write about how April could get along with her new brothers. Can't wait for the first round of voting in the comp!

Part 2 -> 💙

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: I'm hoping y'all like it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The chamber is pungent with sweat. A clammy sheen coats Edith's forehead as she gives another rattling cough. You hear the crackle in her lungs and smell the iron of her blood before it stains the crumpled handkerchief your mother dabs her lips with. 

She's been sick for months. Your mother said the summer heat would help her recovery but the drought that followed the spring downpour only seemed to worsen her symptoms. The once buoyant and bright eyed girl lays shrouded beneath a canopy, gulping and gasping, frail and despondent. 

Your fathe clears his throat, startling you from the doorway. You hadn't heard him appear. You glance at him over your shoulder and ser the grimness in his eye, the stone that has not dislodged since your sister fell ill. She always was his favourite. She's everyone's favourite. She is gentle and kind and rare.

Your mother turns to peek at your father's shadow. She gives a nod and rises, beckoning you forth, handing over the cloth and squeezing it into your palm. 

"Sit with your sister," she nearly whispers. The chamber is always quiet, as if speaking too loud might tempt the fates. Alas, it was always Edith who would sing to fill the dearth. She always knows what to do, what to say.

You perch on the edge of the bed as your mother crosses the floor. Not a word passes between your parents as they retreat. Again, the must discuss something dire, as they've done these last weeks. Each time, it only serves to gray their melancholy further.

Edith stares above her. Eyes glassy and distant. She coughs again and a fleck of phlegm lands on her chin. You mop it up as you wonder how her round cheeks could ever have become so taut and worn.

Her gaze drifts, slowly and lazily, a divet forming between her brows as she strains to look at her. The corners of her lips twitch but she hasn't the strength to smile. She gulps back another raspy cough.

"It's… you," she breathes, "my… sister."

Her words come far apart, each summoned with an effort. As you lower the handkerchief back to your lap she wheezes and lifts her hand shakily. She moves it towards you and lets it drop onto yours.

"I love you, sister," she wisps, "I… I remember…" she shakes her head and wets her tongue, "how much you love…dandelions and daffodils… and everything yellow and blooming." 

Her chest rattles as she falls into a fit. She curls her shoulders and clings to you tightly, her brittle nails sinking into your skin. She swallows loudly as she leans heavily against the pillows, her coughs subsiding. 

"I recall… and I know… you are just as… vibrant…" she bends her fingers around yours, "you must… be… for mother."

"No, Edi, you awe," you murmur, your syllables wobby, "and you will be. Again. You will be that for motha and fatha. You have to… I can't."

She groans and lets her head loll, "you will."

You frown. She is wrong. You cannot replace her and she will not die. It cannot be.

You lower your chin, eyes stinging. Your sister always cast a shadow over you, but you don't mind the shade. She always let you stand off to the side, she let you be quiet, she let you be unseen and safe. She is the only person who ever knew the real you and loved you for it. 

"Don't be… sad," her voice creaks, "I'm not."

You peek at her from under your lashes and furrow your brow, to ask 'you're not?'

She reads you as well as ever, "how can I be?" She heaves and gathers her words, "it may be a short life… but rich… and less than… lonely."

You can't hold back. It's more than what she says, it's the resignation in her tenor. Even in defeat, she is blissful. You bend over her and embrace her daintily, resting your head on her chest, listening to dull beat and the hoarse crackle within. You close your eyes and sniffle.

"You will be well again," you avow, "you have to get well." You let your tears flow down and wet her shift. She raises her hand and rests it on your head, petting your lightly, "I need you."

"I will be around… always," she hums, "you will know where to find me."

Her words dangle over you, confounding you. Cryptic but certain. You know she is right, as ever, but you want so badly for her to lie to you. 

🔹

You wake beneath the small glow of a single taper. Your mother holds a candlestick as she gently tugs on your sleeve. You peer over at your sister’s silhouette, her breaths whistling with each exhale. You sit up, reluctant to leave her.

“Come,” is all the wraithlike matriarch bids.

You obey, rising to follow her across the dark chamber. The hallway is lit only by her candle and the light shining out from a doorway further down. Your father welcomes you into his study, an unusual occasion but you sense not a happy one.

He sits behind his desk on the grand carved chair with medieval posts topped with polished wooden orbs. Your mother lowers herself onto a velvet seat and you take another stiff oaken chair, dragged in from the dining hall. You glance between them and purse your lips tightly. 

Your father sighs, long and heavy, steepling his fingers then quickly, letting them twine together. He sits forward and presses his chin to his knuckles. Your mother sits staunchly, staring ahead, sombre and silent.

“It is best in these moments to be pragmatic,” your father begins quietly, pushing his shoulders back as he forcefully clears the frog in his throat, “to think as a family, to consider the legacy of my name.” He looks down, unusually reticent. He moves his head back and forth, grazing his untended stubble across his fingers, “you will have to make the journey to Jade Park.”

Your frown. You’re uncertain what he means. You shake your head and blink furiously. It’s the closest you ever came to speaking out of turn. Though, your father despises how little you ever said.

“She is too sick to travel. Or to marry. Even if the lord in question made the trek himself to meet his betrothed, she would not be able to receive him… if she were still alive.”

You choke audibly and clutch your throat. Your mother lets out a thick breath and shifts on her seat. Your father’s lip curls, irritated.

“The Duke made a contract for a wife, he will have one,” your father declares, gritting his teeth, “whether he be disappointed or not, he cannot claim forfeiture.”

You send your mother a desperate look. You cannot go and marry Lord Laufeyson. He is to be Edith’s husband. You were still to have some time ahead of you.

Your father covers his face and drags his hands up, combing over his hair with a growl. He holds his skull before sitting up sternly.

“And by the lord, speak up! He will not want a mute as a wife,” he snarls.

You shrink. It should have been you. You should be the one sick and dying. It should be Edith carrying on your father’s hopes. You are not good enough for it. Nor are you ever good enough for him. Where he dotes on Edith, he rants at you.

“Speak!” He slams his palm on the desk.

You flinch and push your head up. You fix your posture and unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth as you part your lips, “yes, fatha, as you bid me–”

“As is your duty,” he sneers, “as a daughter must. As a woman!”

He rails as he waves his hand angrily with each word. He slaps it back down and pushes himself to his feet. He stomps away and stops before the faded portrait of his forebear. You peek again at your mouth, her lips are straight as she looks at you blandly.

“Fatha,” you eke out and stand, “I pwomise I will do my best–”

“I cannot hear you!” He spins to face you, “I hear only mindless babbling. No husband wants a mouse for a wife. Let us only hope Laufeyson will accept one sister in place of another.”

“Fatha,” you squeak.

“Wife,” he ignores you, moving back behind his desk, “you will be certain to review her diction. Mute and dumb, how pitiful.”

You wince. No matter your efforts, your words are always skewed. Every syllable is a little longer than it needs to be, and you cannot form a sharp R. It all fools loose and awkward.

“Fatha–”

“Fathaaa,” he mimics and turns his back to you, “Thea, get her away from me. Ready her luggage.”

“Luggage? When am I to leave, fatha?”

“As soon as we can have you gone,” he mutters, “your sister deserves to die in peace.”

You fold your arms, holding yourself as his words sink into your chest. Like a knife, it cuts to the core and you can’t fight the sob that rises in your throat. You spin on your heel and flee. You hear him boom at your mother.

“Be certain she does not act as a child for her husband,” he barks.

You clamour into your sister’s chamber and over to the bed. You lower yourself next to her once more and wiggle close. Your tears fall as you tuck her hand between her arm and her body.

“Sista,” you gulp, “oh, sista, I don’t want to go… I don’t want you to go.”

🔹

You touch your lips as the carriage shudders with each turn of the wheel. You still feel your sister’s cold skin against you. That final kiss you gave. You know for sure that is what it is. You will not see her again. Not above the earth.

You lean against the wall, trembling with the motion. Your mother is across from you, dabbing her eyes with a folded handkerchief. She bawls loudly now and again, a lock of your sister’s hair clutched in her other hand. 

Despite her protests, your father insisted it would be undue for you to go alone and for neither of them to attend the introduction to assure the contract’s fulfillment. So she accompanies you and the single maid, Doreen.

Dread suffocates you in the cramped space. Even as the sun shines between the curtains, it is gray inside.

You put your head down and stare at the pages of the novel in your hands. Your vision is bleary and you don’t read. It is only an excuse, an act. You try to imprint your sister’s features into your head, try to memorise her voice. You never want to forget her. You want to keep every part of her with you.

The wheels roll on into the night. Your mother pulls a blanket around her but you let the cold chill you, almost praying that it might sicken you. That you could take the ague and your sister’s place. You shiver and look out from behind the curtain, watching the silhouettes of hills and trees pass.

The driver stops at the Crescent Hotel just inside the city. You rent a room and spend the night awake. Your mother sobs and snores until the sun rises. 

When you're ready to set back out on the road, your mother is certain to have the maid arrange your hair and check your face. She has you wear a particular dress, a shade of moss with pearl buttons, and a bonnet with a broad brim. Once past the city, it is only another hour to Jade Park.

You sit with hands clutched, the bench rigid beneath you, uncomfortable as your restlessness mounts. On and on until you are dizzy and quivering. You don’t know that you can do this, but you know you cannot say so.

You approach a great wall of lime washed bricks with a grand golden gate with twists at the peak of each pole. Your mother cranes to watch as you get nearer and you wring your hands together until the seams of your gloves sear your skin. The driver greets the gatekeeper and is let through after a brief introduction.

He proceeds through as the clop of the horses like hooves to your fragile mind. Closer and closer. The wheels slow and the carriage jostles as the driver climbs down. Yet another voice greets him, a groomsman who directs him before opening the door.

The driver places a step down for your mother to descend and you come out after he as the groom assists with a helping hand. You nearly trip on the inch tall heels of your shoes and your mother darts a reproachful glare in your direction. You apologise and look up at the square peaks jutting up from the top of the boxy manor.

The walls are a pale beige trimmed with lush hedges. Stone steps stretch before the wide doors and multi paned windows look out onto the sprawling lawn of green, speckled with marble statues, a fountain, and finely kept flowers. Tall trees peek out from behind the grand house and softly wave in the breeze.

Your mother steps closer to you and pinches your arm.

“Shoulders straight,” she girds, “do not gape like a simpleton. If you must, you may hide behind your fan.”

She takes a step forward, then another. Three before you kick yourself into motion. Your heart thumps loudly as you try to keep pace. The groom shows you up the steps and two others appear to open the double door at the top.

Oh my. 

[crazylittlejester]

Fic Master List

redoing this lmao. almost all of these are Warriors centric fics, and if he ain’t the MAIN focus, he’s at least like second. Click titles for the links

Last updated: August 20th

Series:

1. You’re A Part Of Me- [Description] A bunch of fics that focus on Time/Mask and Wars both during the War of Eras and after it. The first fifteen fics or so in this series are pretty unconnected and can be read in any order. They reference each other in small ways but not in any way that would be significant. After part 15, the fics get a little more connected but for the most part can still be read in any order!

Works in this series: Misunderstandings, Melody, Regrets and Regrowth, Overwhelmed, Poisoned (?), Sick Day, Safe, Roots, The Scarf, Recovery, The Medic, Sugar, An Adventure Interrupted, A Moment of Peace, Spilled Secrets, The Following Dusk, Warriors vs. The Sinking Feeling That Time Is Up To No Good, Lost Bets and Cat Sweaters, Melancholy, Drowned & Frozen, Fever, Memento Mori, Asking For Help, Respect, Fragments

2. Fierce Hero 9- [Description] The Big Hero 6 AU no one asked for

Main Story: Fierce Hero 9

Bonus Chapters: Pancakes and Mourning, Beginnings, The Other Universe, Secrets and Sick Days, The Adventures of Mask and Wolfie

3. Linked Through the Centuries- [Description] A bunch of different Links find themselves in a strange land, armed with only one of the things they remember having last in their possession. They need to team up together and figure out why they were sent there, what the threat is, and locate the Hero of Time before it’s too late (this is my own Links Meet AU!)

4. The Midnight Hours- [Description] What takes place between Sunset 14 and Dawn 1 (written before the Dawn arc was finished)

Works in this series: The Midnight Hours, The Following Dusk

5. Big Brother Wars- [Description] Literally just a collection of fics I’ve written of Warriors being a good big brother to various members of the chain :)

Works in this series: Dog Days, Bad Dreams Better Future, Sky’s Terrible Day, Misconceptions, Closer, Really It’s Just A Scratch

Multi Chapter Fics:

Of Officers and Stuffed Elephants- Summary: Being an officer at Castle Town Police Department meant that each day was full of surprises, but one specific call comes in one day that completely changes Wars’s life

The Longest Battle- (written with @hero-of-the-wolf) Summary: After a difficult journey during the day full of obstacles and hard battles, Time finds himself trapped repeating the same battle over and over again. He has no choice, if he wants to save his brothers. However every time he uses his ocarina to reverse fate, he finds the price of saving his lost companion is the life of another.

A Mortifying Change of Plans (or Twilight’s Worst Nightmare: A Party)- Summary: Twilight was perfectly comfortable with his idea of how the evening would go: he could just stand there in a corner, watching the princess and his brothers from afar. He wasn’t a huge fan of social events, but this was easy enough. He could do it. Just as long as no body changed his plan. He would be fine. He could do this…

Random Fics that don’t really connect to anything else:

Trapped- Summary: Legend and Warriors get stuck in a tight room in a dungeon and have to work together to get out of it

(You Aren’t) Selfish- Summary: Time’s fine. Really, he is. Because he has no other choice. With everything all the younger heroes around him are going through, one of them has to be okay enough to support the others, and it’s going to be him.

The Captain, The Sailor, and Some Oranges- Summary: Warriors takes Wind out scouting him because the little sailor found himself unable to sit still and he needed an outlet for his energy. It’s a good thing Wars wasn’t alone, his blood sugar dips too low and he didn’t bring himself any snacks

Slept In- Summary: Warriors was so tired, surely sleeping in and enjoying just laying in his bed would have absolutely no consequences? SURELY he could sleep in and nothing would happen because of it, just this once? Right? (or: Mask abuses being unsupervised)

Faded Sun- Summary: Nightmares weren’t an uncommon occurrence in the life of a hero. However, Time didn’t anticipate how rattled he would be after being forced to face the reality of how badly war had impacted someone he cares so much about. (or: Time, with his adult eyes and current understanding of life, sees Warriors from the end of the War of Eras and is able to for the first time really see just how different he was and just how far he’s come in the past few years)

(The) Trouble with Words- Summary: Mask once again finds himself in a position where his actions might have severe consequences for Captain Link, and he feels incredibly guilty for the trouble he causes his brother. However… in his defense… the guy deserved it.

Apples or Oranges- Summary: Staying in Hateno was meant to be a break for them: a chance to shop and explore the village, a chance to catch up on much needed sleep, a chance to spend time with a brother. But of course Warriors simply cannot catch a break, and this time it’s all Time’s fault, the little shit. Well… and the fault of a seemingly innocent apple tree.

Close Call- Summary: The life of a hero is a dangerous one, and when facing danger every day, it’s easy to forget how fast things can go wrong. After almost losing Warriors, Time has to really take a minute to assure himself the captain is okay

Fireworks- Summary: Warriors doesn’t like fireworks very much at all

A Quiet Night- Summary: Warriors tries his best not to let the chain see how badly the war and everything that happened still effects them, and his plan of sneaking off to cry in the woods had been working pretty well for a decently long time. But Legend hears him while up on watch, and he’s not just going to leave Warriors to cry alone

A Helping Paw- Summary: Warriors has been acting weird ever since Twilight was injured, and Twilight is going to do anything he can to try to get his brother to loosen up, even if he accidentally hurts himself in the process

Pirates and Ice Cream- Summary: Twilight is having a miserable awful time in his senior year of high school, he just has to make it through the end so he can join his brother at college. Although it appears Warriors isn’t having the best time either

Scary Dog Privilege- Summary: After a long day, Twilight and Warriors sneak out to the tavern, and when two strangers don't seem to get the hint and leave Warriors alone, making the captain visibly uncomfortable, Twilight steps in to put them in their place

Flour and Flowers- Summary: It wasn’t often the group got a break from everything. At the ranch, Time takes an opportunity to show his wife and the boys how much he loves them all by doing something nice for them and cooking them breakfast by himself. Or at least he PLANNED to do it by himself

Boy’s Night- Summary: After a really long day, Sky kicks out Twilight, Warriors, and Time because they won’t stop hovering, and forces them to take a break. They find themselves in a bar, and Warriors simply CANNOT believe how oblivious Time is to what goes on around him. or Time cannot for the life of him read when people are hitting on him because it simply never occurred to him that was a thing that could happen, and Warriors has made it his personal duty to watch his brother’s back

2 a.m. Shenanigans- Summary: Twilight had been resting all day and he was starting to get bored. Problem is, Wild is dead asleep on top of him and he can’t move. Warriors and Sky rescue him from where he’s stuck, and the three of them take time to relax and unwind by running around outside in the dead of night

Star Light, Star Bright, First Star I See Tonight- Summary: He hadn’t realized the other heroes were slowly becoming family… He hadn’t realized when he’d started to view them as brothers. or: Warriors got bored on watch and the Thought Spiral caught up to him, and he started thinking about his family, and he comes to the realization the heroes around him have started to make him feel safe again

if a single one of these links doesn’t work or if there’s one single mistake in here somewhere i WILL explode-

[d4rk-x-w0lf-17]

@itsalice3940 it just keeps happening 😭

[stiltonbasket]

prompt: an au where wrh raises wwx, who is then forced to fight for the wens during the sunshot campaign.

“You are useless to me now,” Wen Ruohan says, contemplating his drink. “One little archer, one lucky shot—and my greatest hope after Wen Zhuliu has been ruined.”

The cup in his hand should have held wine: some of the clear, astringent liquor that Wen Qing favored, since it was a passable antiseptic in an emergency—but somehow, it had darkened to a deep, almost oily crimson, like the broth of the stewed lamb Wei Wuxian ate on the night before he rode out to Hejian.

He does not like to think of what his liege must be drinking now, and so he does not ask.

“Not useless,” Wei Wuxian says at last. “Wen Qing claims that a full bodily recovery—if it should take place at all—will come too late for this war effort, but I am still sound in mind. And that is at your service still, as much as it ever was.”

“That is some relief. I could have done without your mind, if I had your jindan and your strength; but since I am not to have either, your mind will have to do.”

Wei Wuxian nods, scarcely concealing the tremor in his fingers as he does so. When he arrived half a shichen ago, he was granted a chair instead of a patch of floor to kneel on, out of respect for his battle wound; but drawing breath in Wen Ruohan’s presence has never been easy, in spite of the fact that the man would likely rather cut off his own right hand than harm him, and the Lan-made poison eating away at Wei Wuxian’s veins has only made matters worse.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “My lord.”

“That concubine of yours, the one that serves you on the battlefield—what is his name?”

His heart stutters in his chest. “Yu Zhenhong, junshang. I have only two, and Yu-shi is the only man.”

“He should have thrown himself before that arrow, rather than suffer any risk to you,” Wen Ruohan snarls, dashing the white-jade cup upon the tiled ground at his feet. “He is a man, and all he can do for the continuation of your line is to ensure the continuation of your life—and if the arrow struck true, and you had been slain, who would have taught your yiniang’s child in your place?”

Painfully, Wei Wuxian lifts himself out of his chair and sinks to his knees on the floor.

“It was I who rode ahead of Yu-shi that day. The rest of the regiment would have come to harm, if he had followed me,” he says, bent so low that he can feel the coolness of the tiles on his forehead. “On his behalf—and on behalf of my yiniang, for Lady Li is close to her time, and any harm done to one of our household could injure her, or my child—I beg that you show him mercy.”

A sharp pain sparks under one of his fingers. He lifts it from the ground, and notes with dull surprise that his skin had been pierced by a shard of Wen Ruohan’s jade cup. 

Wen Ruohan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Very well, then. I will not give him any corporal punishment, for the sake of your yiniang’s peace of mind. But he must be punished somehow, and you are far too soft-hearted to do it properly.”

“My lord—”

“He is your favorite, is he not?” Wen Ruohan says idly. “You care for Li Shuai, and surround her with all the luxuries a man of your rank can afford. But Yu Zhenhong is the one who follows you to battle, the one you take into your confidence; so must he not be the one closest to your heart?”

“Yes.” The word feels like whetted steel on his tongue.

“Good,” his liege says, smiling. “Yu-shi has forgotten where he stands; and so, he must be reminded. He is not your husband—will never be your husband, for in all these years I have found no man or maiden worthy of being joined with you in marriage—but I think it would break his heart if I were to gift you another concubine. He tolerates Li-yiniang, because she can give you children, but if you were to take in another man...”

Wei Wuxian thinks wretchedly of the night Li Shuai and Yu Zhenhong came to his manor in the Nightless City, having run so long that Yu Zhenhong’s feet were bleeding, and begged for shelter: any way you can grant it, Yu Zhenhong had said, swaying on his injured feet as he supported Li Shuai. Any way, Wei-jiangjun—Brother Wei—A-Shuai can travel no further, I beg of you—

“May Wen-zongzhu’s will be done. I accept,” Wei Wuxian murmurs aloud, lifting his head to look Wen Ruohan in the eye. “Who is it to be?”

Wen Ruohan waves a dismissive hand.

“I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow,” he says, with a grin that makes his too-long front teeth shimmer in the yellow lamplight. “But you need not fear for your own sake, Wei-jiangjun. After all, your Yu-shi could not rival this one for beauty if he tried for the rest of his life.”

_____

“A concubine? For Wei-jiangjun? Has Father lost his mind?”

Two figures in red were standing in the dungeons of the Sun Palace, by the very last cell in the deepest of the six underground keeps. Its lone inhabitant had been languishing there for a month, not permitted to set foot outside his prison save when he was dragged to the torture chambers; and even when the tendons in his legs were slashed, some twelve days earlier, he remained so impassive that the head torturer began to wonder if he could feel the pain at all.

Wen Xu lifts his torch and examines the prisoner. 

“I suppose he’s good-looking enough,” he shrugs, suppressing a shiver as the torchlight moves over Lan Wangji’s unblinking eyes. “His nephew was the archer who brought General Wei down at Hejian, so Fuqin must think that marrying Lan Wangji to Wei-jiangjun is a fitting punishment—for the uncle and nephew both.”

In the shadows of the cell, Lan Wangji’s bloodied hands curl over a splinter of stone he had torn away from the walls. 

He has been shaping it for the last fortnight, filing it against the reinforced rock of the floor until the top end had been ground to a razor-sharp point. Before his legs were broken, he intended to use it to pick the lock of his cell door and escape, but now...

“Tian ah,” Wen Chao whispers, apparently under the impression that Lan Wangji was in a meditative trance, and thus unable to hear him. “I don’t fancy Lan Wangji’s chances in the Wei-fu. Wei-jiangjun was furious when Wen Qing found out about the poison in his jindan.”

But now his escape had been planned for him. 

Lan Wangji’s grasp on the splinter grows tighter. 

“When will it be?” asks Wen Chao.

“Three days from now.”

Three days. 

Lan Wangji looks up at the ceiling of his cell, and then down at the sharp piece of rock in his palm. 

He has crossed paths with General Wei only twice: once in the Cloud Recesses twenty years previously, when the young Wei-jiangjun attended Lan Qiren’s summer lecture courses, and then again on the battleground in Hejian where he was taken prisoner thirty days ago. 

Until that fateful battle, he could not have picked General Wei out of a crowd if his life depended on it: but that night, Lan Wangji dreams of a hauntingly lovely face lost in sleep mere inches away from his own, and the trembling of his hands as his makeshift knife plunges into his bridegroom’s throat.

[n1nicou]

Lucky to have you

paring: johnny cade x fem!reader

summary: an AU where johnny doesn’t die :) johnny has been healing from his broken back, trying to learn how to walk and live normally. it’s not always easy, but thankfully, he has you.

note: johnny isn’t dead but he still broke his back and for the sake of the fic we’ll say that he’ll be able to walk again with physical therapy and a back brace, cause we need him alive for this!! also i know that in the book he’s not able to walk anymore after breaking his back BUT LIKE LETS JUST PRETEND HES ABLE TO LEARN AGAIN OKAYYYY???!!?!! 🫡

it had been four months since the incident of the church, four months since johnny had busted his back. naturally, as his girlfriend, to say you were extremely worried was an understatement. you spent hours next to johnnys hospital, just holding his hand. looking at those horrible burns all over his body made your heart sink. johnny appreciated that you put up with him, he thought that if it hadn't been for you being there for him, he surely would have died.

eventually, the doctor said that johnny would be able to recover, but that it would be a long and painful process, the kind of process that would takes months. he said that with the help of a back brace and physically therapy, johnny would eventually heal and be able to walk again. you were determined to do whatever you needed to do to make sure johnnys recovery went without a problem. you became extremely protective of johnny, not letting him to anything to dangerous or too hard for his already weak body. you also forced him to stay over at your house. there was no way you were letting him go back home while he was healing from a broken back just to get hurt again.

johnny felt like a burden. he never vocalized it, but he thought it. watching you take care of him was sweet, but he couldn’t help but feel like a burden to you. he was practically living in your house, taking up your time, asking for your help. not only that, but that big and bulky back brace didn’t help the cause of his self esteem. what also didn’t help with his self esteem was those big third degree burns that he had all over his body, burns that would take months and years to fully heal.

the first three months after the incident, johnny had to wear that horrid back brace that made his body feel like metal. it was also extremely uncomfortable to sleep with, absolutely no position was comfortable. this caused a lot of sleepless night for johnny, which were always accompanied by you and your sweet words. after the painful and hard three months had passed, johnny had finally taken off his back brace and was now starting physical therapy to help him move properly. johnny thought that most of the pain was over, but he failed to expect the soreness that physically therapy sessions would bring him. but tonight, tonight was particularly hard…

you were sleeping peacefully in you warm soft bed with johnny sleeping along side you. you slept on your side with your back facing him. for johnny, the most comfortable position was sleeping on his stomach, although most comfortable didn’t mean what was best for him. the doctor recommended him to sleep on his side with his legs bent a little. but it wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up in the middle of the night for x reason to find johnny sleeping on his stomach instead of on his side like he should. in times like these you would very gently move his body onto his side. that was something you did often, fixing johnny on certain things. “fix your posture johnnycakes” “don’t sleep on your stomach, okay?” “don’t carry that, it’s heavy” were things you often said to him.

as you slept soundly in your bed, you were suddenly woken up from your sleep as you felt something move beside you. you let out a soft and sleepy groan as you turned around and opened your eyes to be met with an awake johnny.

“johnnycakes? is sum’ wrong?” you sleepily said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with you fingers as you sat up on your bed.

johnny looked up at you and tried to move his body to sit up on your bed. you quickly noticed and moved your arms around him to help him sit up. despite all the progress johnny was doing, his body was still weak.

johnny looked back at you “i… the burns… and my back… it hurts… and this shirt ain't helping. it’s uncomfortable, i ain’t able to fall asleep…” he said in a soft tone, he was obviously in a lot of pain. luckily for you, this wasn’t a first, so you knew a couple ways you could help him deal with his pain.

you gently moved your hands to the hem of his shirt, but before pulling it off, you wanted to know if he was okay with it. “can i?” you asked as you looked back up at him. johnny simply nodded his head yes.

you gently pulled his shirt off of his body. exposing his torso and arms, which parts of were wrapped in sterile gauze to prevent infections. at first, johnny was self conscious about you seeing him with all those burns, but he was used to it now as you were always the one who would change the bandages. you eyes fell upon his chest, the bandages were all over the place and looked like they were about to come off. they obviously needed to be changed.

“stay right here, baby” you said as you got off your bed and walked to the bathroom. you opened the medicine cabinet and saw the first aid kit which had sterile gauze and bandages. ever since the incident, you had always kept some just in case. you returned to sit back down on your bed with your first aid kit in hand, ready to change his bandages. johnny didn’t say a words and let you do your thing.

your hands slowly moved to peel off the gauze that covered a large burn on johnnys right rib cage. you could see the burn had been getting better over the past few months, it was a slight pinkish color with some of the skin around it being yellow and brown. you gently placed on the sterile gauze onto the burn before moving to unwrap the bandage from his left arm.

“i dont deserve you…” johnny finally quietly spoke up as he watched you take care of his burns with such a gentle manner that made his heart melt. you stopped what you were doing and looked up at him with a sad look.

“no, it’s not true johnny, shut up” you said as your hands went to gently cup his cheeks while you stroked them with your thumbs. you hated it when johnny brought himself down like this.

“i’m sorry…” he said under his breath. he looked down at his lap, not being able to look you in the eyes.

“you don’t got anything to be sorry about, baby” you reassured him as you placed a soft and gentle kiss to his cheek. “let me just take care of you, okay? i hate seeing you in pain” you mumbled the last part as you continued unwrapping the bandages from his arms. his arms were worst, it was like big splotches of pink and brown brunt skin all over his arm.

you gently started to wrap the bandages around his arm, being careful and gentle with him. johnny looked at you bandaging his arm with so much care. he felt loved and taken care of, something that no one else had ever showed him, maybe except the gang.

you continued wrapping different parts of his body in bandages or gauze. “gonna get you something for your pains, baby” you said before you stood up and went to your kitchen to grab some analgesics painkillers the doctor had prescribed for him if he ever had pains and a glass of water. you went back to your room and handed the pills and water to johnny. you sat back down on your bed as you watched johnny swallow the pill. after he was done, you gently grabbed the glass of water from his hands and placed it on the bed side counter.

“good job” you whisper in a quiet tone as your hand went to gently stroke his cheek for a quick moment. “think you can sleep now, baby?” you asked johnny. johnny nodded his head yes, so you gently laid back down on your side on your bed, facing him. johnny quickly followed, resting on his side and facing you.

there was a comfortable silence between the both of you as you two laid in your beds, your legs slightly touching each other. you closed your eyes, ready to fall back asleep, but you heard a quiet sound, it sounded like sniffing. you immediately opened your eyes to notice that johnny was crying softly, just a couple of tears rolling down his face.

you quickly propped yourself up with your hands, your face full of worry for johnny. “hey... what’s wrong, johnny?” you asked in a concerned tone.

“i’m sorry for being such a burden…” he says as quickly rubbed his tears away with the palm of his hand. he couldn’t look at you, he was ashamed of himself for crying in front of you like this.

“no, johnny… you’re not a burden, okay?” you said as your hand gently moved to stroke his cheek. johnny didn’t look up at you and instead just looked straight in front of him.

you laid back down on your side and got closer to johnny. you gently cupped his cheek and johnny looked to the side. you brought your face closer to his while stroking his cheek. “hey, look at me… what’s goin on?” you asked with concern.

“i-i don’t know, i just feel like i’m askin’ for too much sometimes. and you spend all your time taking care of me… sometimes i just feel helpless” he finally spoke up after a few seconds of silence. your heart broke at his words, johnny had been feeling like a burden this whole time, and you never knew.

“johnny, not once have you ever asked for too much. i want to do this for you, i want to help because i care about you and i just want you to heal. for christ sake johnny, you’ve got a broken back.” you muttered softly. you just wanted johnny to understand that he wasn’t asking for too much, that he wasn’t a burden.

johnny felt a slight blush creep up on his face as he turned his gaze downward. all he did was whisper out a quiet “okay” under his breath. his gaze looked back up at you again before he softly spoke

“y/n, can you hold me?”

you felt your heart melt a little at his words, but also it grew a little nervous. kisses were fine, as they didn’t involve wrapping you arms around his already broken body, but hugs were a different story.

everytime you had given johnny a hug, you were extremely gentle and cautious as not to put to much pressure onto his back. already johnny had a hard time finding a comfortable position in bed, having your arms wrapped around him wouldn’t be much more comfortable. which is why since the incident, cuddles had been something you would be hesitant about. you knew you were probably over reacting, but you couldn't help but be extremely careful about your every move.

johnny understood your concerns and contented himself with your sweet kisses and other forms of affection, but it seems like tonight was particularly hard on him and he just wanted you to hold him like you used to do before everything went down. and who were you to deny your sweet johnny while he was in such pain?

“okay” you whispered under your breath before you very gently wrapped your arm around his side and your hand softly rested on his back. johnny moved his body closer to yours until both of your torsos were pressed against each others. he softly buried his head into your chest and wrapped his arms around your body as your thumb delicately started to rub his back. your other arm went over johnny’s head and rested against the pillow. it was an uncomfortable and weird position for your arm, but you knew that putting it like this would avoid making johnny uncomfortable or in pain.

you had missed this feeling, the feeling of johnny wrapped in your arms, the feeling of his head buried into your chest, the feeling of your face buried in his hair.

you felt your breath shake a little as you were nervous but happy to be doing this. tears pricked in your eyes. it had been months since you last held johnny like this, his head all buried into your chest. you felt as if this was a big step in johnnys recovery. this moment meant everything to you. this moment of just holding johnny in your arms is what made all those three months of pain and hardship worth it. you were finally able to hold your sweet boy again.

“baby…” you whispered out as your voice croaked and you felt a tear roll down your cheek. johnny knew and he felt it too. he simply buried his head deeper into your chest. your thumb gently stroking his back made shivers run through his spine. your touch was so gentle, so sweet, like nothing he had ever felt before.

you tilted your head down and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead that lingered a bit. johnny looked up at you as he looked like he was about to cry, just like you. you leaned in again and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, which he reciprocated.

“i love you” you whispered between the kiss. johnny felt himself melt into a puddle and let all of his muscles relax as he continued kissing you. you both soon pulled away and johnny looked up at you with a sweet smile.

“i’m so lucky to have you” he whispered.

[thevilqueen]

Undying Loyalty ~ Part 1

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit × Reader

Summary: Students are disappearing on the campus of Night Raven College and it seems your lovely friend, Vil Schoenheit, is guilty. Will your love and loyalty for him change?

A/N: I started reading #DRCL Midnight Children and that revived my love for Dracula. This is a vampire AU that will have multiple parts. Reader is female bodied and the pronouns used are they/them. There’s only period blood mentioned for this part.

Part 2

It was rather unusual for Vil to disturb [Name] in the late hours of the night. After all, he always prioritized his beauty sleep above everything else. What was more unusual however was how he stood behind the wooden door with only his violet eyes peeking through as he spoke.

“[Name], please invite me.”

[Name] jumped at the sound of his voice, directing their attention towards him. It seemed they had forgotten to lock the door to their dorm room. As [Name] watched, they noticed an unusual glow in Vil’s piercing eyes.

“Why are you up so late?” they asked, still sitting at their desk.

“Please invite me,” Vil repeated, ignoring their question.

“You are always invited, what are you talking about?”

[Name] frowned as they walked over to open the door for him. Vil never asked to be invited anywhere, he never needed an invitation, for everyone always wanted him to be there. Vil smiled at his friend before making his way in gracefully. The long white nightgown he was wearing danced with every step he took and his blonde and purple hair framed his face beautifully.

“Thank you. Now, why are you up so late, [Name]?” he asked, this time, teasingly.

[Name] rolled their eyes at him.

“Because I knew you would visit me, my Queen.”

Vil chuckled.

“Is that so?” he asked, a little too close to [Name]’s face.

That wasn’t true but [Name] rarely slept early, especially when they were struck by inspiration. They stepped back, startled by the proximity before moving to their desk, turning around the sheets of paper they were scribbling on. Vil didn’t need to know about their fantasies after all.

“It’s unusual for you to be awake at this time. Are you alright, Vil?”

Vil didn’t say anything and sat on their bed.

“I have trouble sleeping these days.”

[Name] stared at him and despite his statement, there was no trace of exhaustion on Vil’s face, in fact, he looked more lively than usual. His lips seemed rosier as well as his cheeks, while his skin was as pristine as ever.

“Do you mean since the incident?” [Name] asked, concerned for their friend’s well-being.

“Yes.”

A few days ago, Vil had been found unconscious not too far away from his favorite running track by the forest of the prestigious Night Raven College campus. It was unlike him to not care for himself and after a medical examination, it seemed as if everything was normal. To say that he hadn’t been acting strange since would be a lie, however. [Name] wasn’t the only one that had sensed it, Rook had also noticed, his praises all the more enthusiastic since Vil’s recovery.

“Do you remember what happened that night?”

Vil shook his head no. [Name] didn’t quite know what to say, instead, they decided to stand up, sliding their chair under their desk. As they did so however blood started dripping down from their legs onto the white marble floor.

“Oh shit,” they cursed as they felt it.

Vil’s violet eyes widened as he noticed the droplets of blood falling and staining the floor. Then in a matter of seconds, in [Name]’s confusion, he was standing behind them, arms wrapped around their waist, his body pressed against their back. They gasped as they felt his mouth against their shoulder. It wasn’t unusual for Vil to be physically affectionate to them but this was a rather sudden and intimate action from their best friend.

“Vil? What are you doing?” they asked, confused, feeling sharp teeth sinking into their flesh.

Vil bit harder.

“Vil!” [Name] exclaimed louder, as the pain grew. “Stop! It hurts!”

They cried out in pain as they struggled, trying to free themselves from Vil’s tight grip. Eventually, his hold on them loosened and soon he was facing an angry [Name].

“God, what’s wrong with you?” they asked. “Why did you bite me like this? There's blood all over the floor.”

Vil knew that, he could smell it, and he was getting hungrier by the second. He knew that [Name] wouldn’t refuse his mouth in between their legs for they were among his admirers but he figured this would look a little too out of character from their best friend. So he refrained.

“My apologies, doll,” he said, still a little too close to them. “I am not sure what I was thinking myself. I just craved you suddenly.”

His smile was playful and [Name] couldn’t help the heat from spreading to their face.

“It’s fine,” they said, pushing past him, embarrassed. “I have to clean myself up.”

Vil watched them disappear behind the bathroom door and soon he was crouching to the floor, slender manicured fingers wiping the blood off the marble to bring to his rosy lips. He would have preferred fresh blood from their neck or directly from between their legs as it flowed currently but he figured cleaning after [Name] this way would offer him some temporary relief for the night.

When [Name] came back he was back to sitting on their bed, as if nothing had happened. They didn’t look at him but as they moved to their desk they could feel Vil’s eyes following them. To [Name]’s surprise, there was no blood on the marble they had stained just a few minutes ago.

“I cleaned it,” Vil said, bringing their attention back to him.

“Oh, thanks,” they replied, with a little smile, trying to ignore the growing uneasiness they had been feeling since Vil had entered their bedroom.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” [Name] lied.

“Should I leave?” Vil asked, sensing the tension brought by himself.

“No.”

[Name] didn’t want him to leave even if they couldn’t quite figure out what had changed about their dear friend. After all, they cherished every moment they could get to spend with him. They sat on their bed next to Vil and they were struck by how cold he felt. He always used to be warm, which contrasted with [Name]’s own body temperature.

“I’m cold, aren’t I?” Vil said, interlocking their fingers together, aware of the changes he had been through since the incident.

“Freezing.”

“Will you warm me up?”

[Name] chuckled.

“Of course.”

[Name] pulled the sheets off their bed before sliding under them with Vil. He was in fact terribly cold but [Name] hoped that the blankets and their body would warm him up as they cuddled. Despite the strange exchange between them, [Name] had no trouble falling asleep in his arms. After all, Vil remained Vil to them, no matter what.

[kn-1013]

Alligator Blood (AU) Part 1 - Tall Child

Summary: Travis isn't living with his father anymore, he's taking care of his sister and living in the Addison Apartments, because his father's been arrested and he's an adult now. He just wishes he felt like it. Word Count: 5,221 Rating: T Pairing: Gen/None Warnings: Alcoholism/substance abuse, mentions of past childhood abuse

A/N: This is the first thing I've written and finished about my non-magic cult AU. The basic premise is that the cult exists within Nockfell, but it's a lot smaller and, as the title suggests, magic isn't real, so none of their efforts amounted to anything. A lot of this AU just focuses on trauma recovery, because that's what I enjoy writing about most. Enjoy :)

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“You’re gonna be able to drive me to school, right?” A voice rung in his head, the echoes pounding in rhythm with the throb. “Travis?”

He groaned, registering the matted bath rug underneath him, and the hard linoleum floor he sat on with it. There was something sticky on the side of his face, and his shoulder ached from how he’d been sleeping on it all night. He tried to move, but his entire body felt like a magnet was pulling it back to the ground.

“Ugh, nevermind, just tell me where the keys are.” His exasperated sister flipped him onto his back, digging through the pockets of his pajama pants and sighing when she came up with nothing.

“No, no, I got it.” Travis slurred his words a bit as he managed to sit up, leaning against the tiled bathroom wall for support. He pretended he could blame everything on the sleep inertia rather than somehow managing to wake up both drunk and hungover at the same time.

“You have wine all over your face and in your hair, you don’t ‘got’ anything.” Madeline snapped, gesturing to his head. Travis blinked dumbly as he reached up and touched his temple, realizing that’s what the sticky sensation was. He was just glad it wasn’t vomit this time.

“Whatever, I’ll clean up. It’s fine. I’m fine.” He didn’t sound very convincing, and based on the look Madeline gave him, he wasn’t. He slowly stood up, gripping onto the sink for support, and looked at the mess in the mirror.

The right side of his face was now colored a mild reddish-purple, but it didn’t stand out too harshly against his tanned skin, it was the sticky feeling that bothered him the most. His hair was a different story, though; blond strands stained a reddish-pinkish-purple depending on where you looked, bunched together in ugly clumps. His dark eyes were flanked with a sharp redness from all the drunk crying he did the previous night—or, one of them was still dark. The right one was faded, now, and his vision had been going along with it as time went on. He tried not to think about why as he stared directly at it.

To his left, Madeline sighed. Travis didn’t want to look at the sad, pitying expression he knew was on her face right now. “Just, hurry up, please. I don’t wanna be late.”

Again.

That was the part she left out.

Travis washed himself up rather quickly after managing to get himself started, only nicking himself shaving once this time, which was a good sign. He didn’t bother getting dressed since he had nowhere to go today, but he did change out of the clothes he slept on the bathroom floor in, covered in wine, snot and tears, maybe a little blood of unknown origin.

He wore some thin, plaid pajama pants and a band shirt that Larry had gotten him, somewhat of a housewarming gift and a reconciliation gift at the same time. He swore they were really good, that Travis should check them out because he’d probably like them more than other metal bands, but he never did, he just wasn’t sure he’d be able to get into a band called Acid Bath.

He trudged out of the apartment after Madeline. As he left, he spotted Sal’s dad, Henry, exiting the elevator with some mail in his hand. He looked tired, but he perked up as he spotted Travis and his sister, and Travis tried to mentally prepare himself for a short conversation with the man.

“Ah, mornin’ guys. How are you?” He smiled. Travis couldn’t explain why that made him anxious.

“Tired, the usual. What else can you feel on a Monday?” Travis shrugged.

“It’s Wednesday, moron.” Madeline said.

“Wednesday, whatever. It’s one of the days of the week. I got close.” Travis fired back sharply.

“Well, at least you were only two days off, I woke up thinking it was Friday for some reason.” Henry shrugged, and Travis tried to let himself feel normal for a second, but it was just another face he put on. Just another long-practiced photogenic smile he pulled out. “That’s being an adult for you, huh?” He said back.

He could speak the part all he wanted, he’d always been praised by the adults for sounding a lot older than he was, but when he shut the door to his bedroom at night, he curled up in the sheets he brought from the house he grew up in and he felt just as small as he did at eight years old. 

“Yeah, it sure is. Well, I’ll let you go, get Maddie to school before she’s late and all and I’ll catch you later. Say hi to Sal for me if you see him, alright?” Henry gave a stiff yet polite smile as he grabbed the doorknob with one hand and waved goodbye with the other. Travis and Madeline nodded, waving back as they stepped into the elevator.

“Will do, Mr. Fisher.” Travis said as the doors closed. 

The two of them ran to their dad’s–right, now it was Travis’s–old pickup truck, trying to dodge the rain as best they could. The truck sputtered to life as he turned the key and he pulled out, only hitting the curb once as he turned out of the apartment parking lot.

“Why don’t you go on dates or anything fun like that?” Madeline asked as she adjusted her hair and makeup in the flip-down mirror, and Travis rolled his eyes. He was too tired for a conversation like this, too caught up in his head about all his flaws, and he scoffed bitterly. “That won’t be happening any time soon.” He said, focusing on the road.

Madeline pouted. “Why not? You clean up pretty nice when you lay off the booze, I’m sure plenty of girls are in-”

“I’m gay.”

The car went quiet.

“Oh.”

He didn’t know why he’d said it at all, let alone right now instead of in a situation he could escape from if she got angry. But she didn’t seem angry, she seemed like she was just… Thinking about it. The anger would probably come later, he was sure, when she realized the social repercussions of having a half-blind faggot for an older brother.

Nevermind the fact that the only other faggots he knew of in Nockfell he’d had a very strained relationship with, considering how he used to bully them for being faggots in high school, back when he was still convinced he could become normal if he’d just prayed hard enough.

Normal. Hah. What a fucking joke.

Larry’s shirt felt like it was choking him.

The rest of the drive to Nockfell High was quiet. It didn’t exactly feel tense, but the air still felt thick with realization.

“See you after school. Don’t get too wasted to pick me up.” Madeline’s movements and tone were hesitant, awkward. She left the car in the drop-off line, and Travis just nodded, his mouth dry.

When he got back to the apartments, he stood by the entrance for a while underneath the awning looking at the pathetic little life he’s managed to make with his sister in the wake of their father’s arrest. Of the arrest of a number of other townspeople. Of the arrest of their other sister.

It was raining when the FBI had arrived, too, easily pulling him off of the bloody pulp he’d been beating his father into in front of the church when his sister struggled. He’d been screaming so hard his throat was raw, his own blood and tears mixing in with the weather, and a woman pulled him into her arms, thrashing and shrieking like an animal. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to comfort him or restrain him. 

He didn’t know they were coming. Nobody did. 

Looking back on it, Travis thought there must’ve been a God, because that was the only way to explain the cosmic irony of finally being saved from their father the moment he’d finally accepted that nobody was ever coming to save them. That’s why he was prepared to kill his father that night, and he still feels like he should’ve, but when the social worker held his head into her chest as they put his barely conscious father into handcuffs, he curled up in her arms and wailed.

Now he was here.

Twenty-one, almost twenty-two, but he didn’t feel like it. In an apartment that didn’t feel like it was his, full of a lot of nostalgia and second-hand things.

He went to the bathroom and properly cleaned up the mess he’d left on the floor that morning, finding that his wine bottle still had a bit left inside. He finished it off as he cleaned, letting the alcohol lubricate his mind. When he was done, he tossed the bottle in the garbage and grabbed some more from the small wine rack by the kitchen as he continued around the house, grabbing his and Madeline’s laundry to bring down to the basement, then doing the dishes, vacuuming the carpet, mopping the kitchen, wiping the counters, cleaning the toilet, dusting the tube, re-organizing the fridge and pantry, cleaning out the kitchen drawers and doing anything else he could think of to keep his drunk mind off of the weight on his back.

He was going to bust out the grout to fix some holes in the tiling in the bathroom when he realized his insober hands would be far too imprecise. He needed to cut himself off if he wanted to be sober enough to pick up Madeline later. 

He checked the time, assuming it had to have been several hours since he’d dropped his sister off, but it was only half past eleven. He gave a shaky sigh, unsure of what else to fill the time with if he didn’t want to keep thinking about it all but couldn’t get any drunker than he already was.

Sitting on the couch, he decided to flip on the TV. Maybe he could find something that would turn his brain off.

He channel surfed, flipping through morning talk shows, news channels, sitcom re-runs. He sat on an episode of Family Batters for a bit before deciding that Sbeve Urkel just wasn’t doing it for him today and went back to searching when something caught his attention.

It was the beginning of some children’s show he was only vaguely familiar with, My Glitter Ponies: Rainbow Spectacular. Madeline used to like the toys when she was younger, but she’d grown out of it in recent years. They never got to watch the cartoon, they didn’t have a TV growing up, so the only times they’d ever got to watch it was when they’d gone to a friend’s house. Maybe it was fun. 

He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned against the armrest of the tattered love seat Lisa had pulled from the dumpster for him and let the episode play.

It made his chest hurt to think about childhood more often than not. Both his own childhood, and the concept itself left him feeling a deep seated ache. He was often familiar with a feeling he didn’t know the name of, he just called it ‘bad nostalgia’, named as such because nostalgia was usually supposed to feel good, and this generally didn’t. He mostly felt it when he was reminded of the good periods of his childhood, times he wanted to go back and relive just to feel like a child one more time before he had to grow up. Maybe if he was able to have just one good, strong childhood memory to point to, to orient himself under, he would feel ready for all of it to be over and he could finally move on. 

But you only get one childhood, and he could never get those years back. 

As the cartoon flashed in front of his drunken eyes, magical problems solved with the power of friendship, he was reminded of the figurines his sister handed to him when she wanted him to play with her. The two of them were so small. It was so easy for Kenneth to grab them and throw them around however he wanted, by the arms, by the ears, by the collar, by the hair. But he wasn’t home that day he was thinking of, it was just them in Madeline’s bedroom, and Mary making lunch in the kitchen—macaroni—back before her eyes went so dark and she still smiled. Nobody could get them here, not in Madeline’s bedroom or in his mind. 

He woke up a couple of hours later, his face damp with tears. The sound of someone knocking at the door cut through the fog of his fatigue and got up fast enough to make himself dizzy, checking the time as fast as he could. He was thankful to find it was only three, and Madeline got off of school at around three forty-five. Plenty of time.

He stood up more carefully and wiped his face off.

“I’m coming.” He uttered, just loud enough to be heard through the door as he peered through the eyehole to find Henry.

He unlocked the door and opened it, hoping he didn’t look like total shit, but Henry’s grimace told him otherwise.

“Bad time?” He asked.

Travis shook his head. “No, no, I’m just… Y’know.” He wiped his face again.

“I just wanted to check in on ya, see how you were doin’.” Henry gave an apologetic smile. It felt like there was a weight to it that Travis didn’t understand, but he was never good at reading people. 

“I’m- I’m alright, Mr. Fisher, thanks.” Travis gave an exhausted one back.

“You sure? ‘Cus you’ve got a stain that’s either blood or wine in your hair, and either way that’s not a good sign to me.” Henry gestured vaguely to a spot on his head, his mouth flattening itself. 

Shit, he thought he got all that out.

Travis sighed and leaned against the door frame more heavily, arms loosely crossed, letting go of some of that mask and letting himself look as bad as he felt. Not that he was trying that hard in the first place to look fine, but he definitely looked worse as he took that extra layer off of himself.

“It’s nothing, really. Same shit as usual. Nightmares, bad memories, et cetera.” He smiled to try and make himself seem more lighthearted about it than he was, but he had a feeling it just made him look bitter. Whatever, he was bitter.

“Well even the same shit needs to get talked about, ‘specially if you’re drinking about it at three PM.” Henry’s voice was low and sympathetic, tilting his head inward while his thumbs hooked themselves through his belt-loops.

Travis really did not want to have a conversation like this right now. “Look, Mr. Fisher, I have to pick up Maddie soon, so-”

“Hey, doesn’t have to be with me. It could even be in a journal or something, that’s what Sal and Lisa do. Just as long as you’re not completely leaving it in here.” He tapped his temple with a raised brow, as if he was giving some kind of sage advice that Travis wasn’t already aware of. It’s not like he was trying to keep all of this in, it’s that he didn’t have anyone but Maddie, and she already occasionally has to comfort him when he wakes up from nightmares in the middle of the night, he can’t keep putting her in that position.

And Henry… That was Sal Fisher’s father. As in, Sal Fisher, one of the guys he used to bully for being a faggot in school. The guy who’d given him a lot more patience and grace than anyone else did, much more than he felt like he deserved. They’d long since reconciled, they’d never really hated each other anyway, but it wasn’t easy to pretend like tension wasn’t still there, especially when facing his father. He’d rather keep his distance.

Travis sighed. “…Alright, I will. And,” He flicked his eyes downwards. “Thanks. For checking.” He didn’t want Henry to feel like he was being completely rejected, even if he was going to take his suggestion of talking about it and immediately throw it into the garbage.

“No problem, kid. Just remember that people need people to live. Take care, I’ll see you around.” He walked back to his apartment, his socked feet padding over the matted and stomped-down carpet. Travis watched him until he opened the door and went inside, wondering why the man kept coming over like this, checking on him, trying to be friends with him. Travis didn’t want or need friends right now, and as nice as the guy was, he kind of wished he would take the hint and fuck off. Must be a family trait.

He shut the front door and went to clean himself up in the bathroom so he didn’t look like total shit when he went to pick up his sister from school.

He showered, moisturized, combed his hair, put cold spoons over his eyes to try and keep the bags underneath them at bay, and by the time he was finished, he almost looked like a person. He still felt somewhat disoriented as he put on his shoes and walked out of the apartment, but he could drive with one eye closed if he needed to.

He pulled out of the apartment parking lot and managed to stay in one lane for the majority of the drive.

In the drop-off line, Madeline flung her backpack into the back seat aggressively before getting in, slamming the car door shut and leaning against the window with her arms crossed. Travis raised a brow as he made his way through the line and back onto the main road. “Bad day?” He asked. Madeline just rolled her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” She huffed. Travis shrugged and decided to leave it alone. “Alright, then.”

The drive was quiet for a few minutes before Madeline spoke up again.

“It’s just that Celine is pissed off at me because I told her George Michael is gay and that stuck-up bitch won’t let it go.” She glared at the passing fences and power lines.

Travis blinked. That was news to him. “He is?” He asked into the rear view, and Madeline just looked at him incredulously. “Duh!” She said. Travis hummed contemplatively as he watched the world pass by from his dashboard. Just more pop-culture bullshit he was out of touch with, nothing new, but if George Michael was gay and doing alright, maybe he should listen to the guy sometime.

“And… You too, apparently.” Travis tensed as they made eye contact in the rear view again.

Right, he’d told her that this morning. He had no idea why. Maybe he was drunker than he thought he was this morning, maybe he was tired of her asking when he’ll go on a date or something, he wasn’t sure. That was the first time he’d ever said it out loud and he barely remembered it.

“Yeah.” Travis said quietly as he focused back on the road.

“How come you never told me?” She asked, and Travis could hear the disappointment in her voice.

He paused, focusing on the way his head swam a bit as he drove through the old roads. “I wanted to be normal.” His answer was shockingly honest, but it’s not like he had many options.

Madeline scoffed. “You know everything dad said was bullshit.” She said, looking back out the window.

A bitterness bubbled in Travis’s chest. She didn’t get it, she was normal. 

“Knowing and believing are two different things when your dad beats you because your hair is too long and he doesn’t want you looking like a faggot.” That was a bit harsher than he’d intended for it to be. Madeline looked through the mirror with an apologetic expression before looking back out the window. 

“Sorry.” She said quietly.

“It’s okay.” He replied, his face softening.

They arrived back at the apartments a couple of minutes later, wiping their shoes off on the doormat. Madeline made a beeline for the elevator while Travis stopped and double checked the mailbox first.

Bills, bills, local news station, a less local news station, oh—he’s pre-approved for some credit card he doesn’t care about. Awesome.

“Hurry up or I’m letting the doors close without you, dickhead.” Madeline called from the elevator, her arm held out, and Travis rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’m coming, you little shit.”

They stepped into the apartment and Madeline tossed her bag on the couch before pausing.

“It’s really clean today.” She looked around and made her way to the kitchen, looking for something sweet. She seemed careful, knowing what it meant when things were too put-together. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It was nothing.” He grabbed his copy of Carrie off the coffee table and sat down to read it again.

It went silent as Madeline started heating up some of their apple cider on the stove. When it was done, she poured two glasses and left the rest on a low heat setting and covered it for later. She walked over to the couch, nudging her brother’s leg with her foot to get his attention, and she handed him the warm glass.

“Thanks.” Said Travis.

She hummed as she sat down close next to him, her head on his shoulder, watching the quiet TV he’d left on all day as he sipped his cider and read.

“You know we’re in this together, right?” Madeline asked, after a few moments of silence.

Travis looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was staring straight ahead. “Yeah, of course.” He replied.

“Then why don’t you tell me stuff?” She sounded more than just disappointed this time, she sounded betrayed. “I tell you everything, but you don’t tell me what’s bugging you, you just drink. I’ve been asking you about dates for months and it’s only now that you tell me you don’t even like girls. Now you’re stress cleaning again and you won’t even tell me why. Is it money?” She turned to face him, and Travis looked at her apologetically.

“If it’s money, I could get a part-time job. I’m not in any clubs or anything special like that, and my grades are fine, I promise I can help.” Travis sighed and put the book in his lap.

“No, it’s not money, we’re okay on money.” Travis said, and they were. They didn’t really have any savings at the moment, but other than that, they were alright, so it’s not like it was a complete lie.

“Then what is it, Travis? Just talk to me, please?” She pleaded.

“I don’t need to be putting my shit on you like that, Lin, you just need to worry about finishing school.” His voice was soft as he tried to dodge her questions.

“Bullshit! How am I supposed to worry about finishing school when I’m not even sure you’ll be able to drive me there in the mornings because you keep drinking yourself to sleep every night?” Now she really looked pissed, and Travis had a feeling that it wasn’t Celine’s indignancy that put her in that mood on the way home. 

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have a good answer to any of her questions, but especially not that one. 

“I’m worried about you, Travis.” Madeline replied to his silence. “I know it’s been hard with the trial coming up and Mary being put away, but we’re not gonna get through this if you don’t talk to me.”

Shit, he’d forgotten about the trial. It was supposed to happen in late February. He’d been so stressed with other bullshit that he forgot to get stressed about that. And Mary—what day was it? They were supposed to visit her in the hospital that Saturday. 

Travis set his book aside, and his drink on the table, sighing. He wrapped an arm around his sister tiredly. “It’s just bad memories. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” He said. It wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t entirely false either.

“Then why do you keep drinking about it?” Madeline’s voice was quiet and bland. 

Travis sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. “It just makes things easier.”

“Easier than talking to me about it?” 

“Look-” Travis started, but he cut himself off, staring at the wall behind the TV as he held her. “It’s just hard.” His voice shook as he realized he didn’t even know what to say. He hardly understood why he was so upset this morning. He knows he’d been drinking, but he felt so alienated from the ache of that familiar smallness he felt, curled up on the couch. Madeline looked up at him with a soft expression, and he looked away.

“I used to think that when we got away from dad, I would know exactly what to do and I’d be able to handle it, but now that I’m here, I don’t understand anything anymore. I went from having no control over my life to having complete responsibility so fast my head is still spinning.” He leaned back against the couch and tugged on his earlobe as he stared at the ceiling. “When you’re a kid, nobody tells you that all the adults are just winging it because you have no idea what’s going to happen next. I don’t even feel like an adult yet, I don’t know if I ever will.”

“Everything changed so fast it feels like I got whiplash.” Madeline replied. “I still can’t believe it’s over. My classmates keep asking me questions, and they make fun of me for it. They call me the cult girl.”

“Yeah, they used to call me church boy. I still can’t believe I tried to hand pamphlets out to people all the time.” He laughed bitterly, and he was hit with familiar pangs of loss over what his father robbed them of. “I wish I could tell you it gets better, but I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I’m sorry.” Travis’s expression grew anxious as he stared at the ceiling.

“I believe they will.” Madeline said, wrapping her arms around Travis. “As long as we stick together and work hard, things will get better. They have to.”

Travis felt like that outlook was rather naive, but then he remembered Sal Fisher, the boy who’d started it all by moving here and sticking his nose into the Phelps family’s business, not stopping until Travis’s father was arrested. He believed from the start that things would get better, and when Travis walked out of the police station early the morning after his father was taken in, Sal was there with his hair down, damp and clumped together from the rain that happened the previous night. He hadn’t even showered yet.

Travis was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold, with his arms wrapped around himself. It wasn’t easy at 5’11, but he tried to make himself look as small as possible. He wanted to go home and pull all his hair out, but Sal wrapped a skinny arm around his waist because it was the best his height would allow for, and he led him outside to Larry’s van.

“This is it, Travis. A new start.” He’d said, his voice gentle. “Things are gonna get better.”

“I think you’re right.” Travis said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “As long as we stick together, it’ll be okay.”

Please God, don’t let her be wrong, Travis thought to himself. I don’t think I could take it if she was.

After a comfortable silence between the two of them, Madeline spoke up again. “Drink your cider before it gets cold, I made that for you, asshole.”

Travis let go of her and punched his sister in the shoulder a bit roughly. “Shut up, you were the one who made it and then decided to have a gut-wrenching conversation immediately afterward. Do we have any bourbon or anything to put in here?” Travis got up from the couch and went to look in the kitchen.

“Oh come on, seriously?” Madeline got up from the couch looking about ready to throttle him.

“Don’t worry, you can have some too, if you want.” Travis smirked as he picked the large bourbon bottle from the corner of the kitchen floor. It was too big to keep anywhere else.

She grumbled under her breath before giving in to the teenage allure of a trusted older family member offering her alcohol. “Okay fine, scoot over.” Madeline grabbed her glass and bumped herself into Travis’s side, causing him to almost spill the bourbon he was pouring into his cider.

“Oof- you little shit.” He glared at her, but there was no fire behind it, and Madeline laughed at him. “C’mon, my turn.” She gave up her cup and made her best puppy-dog eyes. Travis rolled his and poured a good amount of bourbon into her drink.

“Now c’mon, they’re about to play The Odd Couple on the ABC channel. That’s a fun one to watch drunk.” Travis began herding his sister back to the living room.

“Oh, great. Speaking of,” Madeline started as they sat down. “When are you gonna get a boyfriend? If you lay off the booze, I’m sure plenty of guys are into tall twinks with problems.”

Travis did a double take and nearly choked on his drink. “I am not a- where did you even learn that word? Fuck you.” Madeline just laughed at him a lot harder than he wanted to hear. “My friend Georgie. He said you’d get mad if I called you that.” Travis sneered. “Yeah, because he’s wrong. Tell Georgie to go fuck himself.”

Madeline raised her brows as she put her legs on his lap. “Mm, I don’t know, I think he’s right.”

Travis scoffed and continued bickering with his sister as he flipped through the channels, catching the opening credits to The Odd Couple just in time.

As Madeline kicked him in the shoulder and he threatened to kill her for almost making him spill his drink, he was reminded of his conversation with Henry earlier, about making sure things don’t stay in his head. He certainly felt better than he did before, he didn’t even feel like getting completely wasted tonight. It felt like he was drinking for fun, and not to make himself sleep as quickly as possible. He actually wanted to be awake as the afternoon faded into evening, to watch the movie with his sister, to get some drunk cooking done for the two of them later. 

He sunk into his couch and smiled as the bourbon started to hit him a little bit.

Henry was right. People need people, and no two people needed each other more than Travis and Madeline, because they were all each other had right now.

As long as they held onto each other, things were going to get better.