#then i caught something unrelated and was sick in bed

[chicken-from-the-future]

I have fucking COVID I got COVID even though I haven't really left my house in like a month, I'm sick in bed AGAIN and I'm fucking miserable like why do I need to be tormented by the many afflictions?

[abitohoney]

Insatiable

CH3 - Twice Shy AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5 || CH6 || CH7

Vampire Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Story Tags: Vampire Sevika, Soft Sevika, liaison reader, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Grinding, Sexual Tension, Biting, Drinking, Smut, Clothed Sex, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Assault, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Minor Character Death, Vampire Silco, vampire Ran, definitely took some creative liberties on vampire lore here, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation Kink, Strap-Ons, Overstimulation

Word Count: 3.2k

Story Summary: As the new liaison between Piltover and the Undercity, you've been guided by the enigmatic escort Ran to meet with their boss- and fearsome criminal kingpin- Silco, as well as his alluring right-hand woman Sevika. You're well aware that plenty of shady things take place in the depths below, but there's something particularly mysterious about these three that you can't quite put your finger on.

AN: This is already in process over on AO3.

Sevika’s mouth was ravenous against your skin. Her teeth, sharp and pronounced, dragged along every inch of your body. Her quiet, deep growls and groans, echoed behind the buzzing in your ears.

You lie spread out across your bed, completely nude and for her taking. Soft moans spilled past your lips as every touch of hers felt electric, warm currents of pleasure bolting from each point of contact.

Her hands scooped up your wrists, pinning them above your head as she brought her unrelenting mouth to your neck.

Pain and pleasure shot from your throat and spread through every muscle and vein in your body.

You bolted upright in your bed with a startled cry. Without thinking you moved your hand to touch that damn spot again, causing yet another jarring wave of pain mixed with pleasure to roll through you. You immediately pulled your hand away, wincing and groaning.

Blinking your eyes several times, you peered around your room. It was still night, only the moonlight shining through your sheer bedroom curtains.

Though your skin felt cold and clammy to the touch, you were covered in a fine sheet of sweet.

Why were you having so many visions and dreams? Why did the marks on your neck seem to be connected?

You wouldn’t have any answers until you spoke to Sevika. So with a long sigh, you let your tired body flop back against the mattress, sleep quickly lulling you back into comfortable darkness.

The following day you slept in well past when you had planned to. Though you had returned the night before later than you usually would, you were abnormally tired. You found yourself unable to get out of bed until well into the afternoon. Even after a meal and another shower your body just felt off. Similar to how you felt when sick, but this was somehow different. You felt drained.

It took you until dusk to finish all your chores and get ready to visit Sevika. The walk down there sounded terribly dreadful in your weakened state, but the prior night still plagued your mind and you could not wait until the next meeting to make sense of it. Not to mention, you simply just wanted to see her again. You couldn’t quite explain it, but something about her just drew you to her.

So you made your way down to the dark depths of the Undercity alone, mulling over the bits and pieces you could remember along the way. Some of the memories seemed so odd, unrealistic, and out of place. To the point that you were starting to question if maybe some of it had simply been your imagination.

Too busy wracking your brain for the missing pieces to the puzzle, you didn’t realize you’d made a wrong turn until you caught sight of several figures hidden in the shadows of the alley.

You froze. The dark figures- three of them- all turned towards where you stood dead center not more than several steps away.

Oh no.

“Why hello pretty,” one of them drawled as they pushed off the wall they’d been leaning against.

“Uhm. Hi. I- I’m sorry. I must have made a wrong turn,” you stammered out, eyes shifting between the three men as they stepped out of the shadows and towards you.

“Don’t worry babe, you definitely made the right turn,” the first man replied, voice dangerously low as he sauntered towards you.

Your heart leapt to your throat.

No. Nonono!

Something glinted in the sliver of light that snuck past the walls surrounding the alley.

A knife!

Your eyes shot back up to the man’s face. He was close enough now that you could see the way his scarred face leered at you. His buddies not far behind him wore their own sinister smiles.

“You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, spinning the blade in his hand. Two more steps and he’d be within grabbing distance.

Heart pounding in your ears, you spun on your heel and took off as fast as you could back down the alley. To your dismay you had made your way much further from the main road than you had realized.

“Where you think you’re going pretty?” You heard the man call from behind you. Very close behind you.

Your chest burned with the effort it took to breathe as you ran as fast as you could. It was apparently not enough though. Not in your weakened state. You made it no further than halfway to the end of the alley when you felt the force of another body collide with the back of yours, sending you crashing to the ground.

You managed to catch yourself with your hands, preventing your face from hitting the pavement. Not without the cost of your forearms and palms of your hands though. You yelped in surprise and pain, your flesh tearing as you skidded.

Before you could even think to react you were flipped over onto your back and straddled by the scarred man.

You swung wildly at him, your hands clawing at his face and leaving deep scratches. You attempted to get his eyes, but he quickly snatched up both your hands and pinned them above your head with one hand.

“Fucking little bitch,” he snarled, dribbles of spit splatting against your face.

“HELP-” your scream died when he dropped his knife to cover your mouth with his other hand.

“Someone get her hands for me!” he snarled to his buddies.

You squirmed and bucked desperately beneath his weight, but to no avail. One of the other men grabbed your wrists, allowing the scarred man to grab his knife again and hold it to your throat.

“You better fucking lie still or I’ll slit this pretty little neck of yours.”

When you didn’t immediately cease, he pressed the edge of the blade hard enough to just break the skin. You choked out a sob against his hand, your eyes filling with tears as the realization that you were at their mercy finally hit. And there was no telling what they had planned for you.

Your eyes darted around looking for anyone, anything, to help you. His other buddy looked just as nasty and evil as him, no chance of pleading for pity from him.

Janna, why had you let your head get so clouded?

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a large, hooded figure stepped up behind your attackers. The three of them seemed to be too focused on you to even realize the presence of another. Your wide eyes searched beneath the hood for the face of what you hoped would be your savior and not another thug, but the entirety of their face was obscured in shadow.

Something else caught your eye though. Something bright, neon purple beneath their cape where their shoulder would be. Their left shoulder. It sank back beneath the cloth, the alley suddenly echoing with the sounds of spark, hissing, and metal joints.

Next thing you knew the man that had just been standing watching was grabbed the the back of his neck by a metal hand and thrown behind them.

Sevika?

The man that had been holding your hands down released them, jumping back and hollering when he finally faced the hooded figure. “What the hell?!”

“Get the fuck off her right now.”

You’d recognize that growling, deep, yet feminine voice anywhere.

The scarred man quickly pivoted his head to look behind him. You took that opportunity to grab the wrist of his hand holding the knife. His other hand left your mouth to fight back, but it was too late. Sevika grabbed him by his hair and effortlessly pulled him off you.

You scrambled to your feet and backed against the wall, watching wide-eyed as the two lackeys ran off in different directions while Sevika pulled the scarred man further into the shadows.

Blood curdling screams mixed with the sound of flesh tearing echoed through the alley. A chill ran down your spine. You could only imagine what she’d done to the man with her chemtech arm. You stood stock still, heart still hammering in your chest as you listened to the man’s scream slowly fade into silence. You heard the thud of his lifeless body hitting the ground, but you weren’t feeling entirely in the clear yet. Not with how furious Sevika must have been.

Sevika’s lumbering form emerged from the shadows, her hood still shrouding her face in darkness as she stood before you, toe-to-toe. She towered over you, completely casting you in her shadow. All you could see was the faint red-purple glow of her eyes.

“Are you alright?” she growled.

“I- I think so. Just some cuts along my hands and arms,” you panted.

“What the hell are you doing here by yourself?!” she spat.

“I- I’m so sorry,” you stammered. “I just wanted to see you. To talk to you about something.” You could feel her heavy breath against your face and smell the metallic scent of blood. She was livid.

“You could have been killed, or worse.”

Your stomach churned at the thought of what ‘worse’ could have entailed. And that was likely what their plan had been. “I know,” you replied softly, avoiding the heat of her gaze. “I wasn’t thinking straight. Just focused on you- on finding you.”

Sevika released a heavy sigh and finally took a step back to look you up and down. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Your arms took a beating.”

You glanced down at your hands and arms. She wasn’t kidding. That fall and subsequent slide across the unforgiving pavement had really done a number on them.

You stepped away from the wall, expecting to simply follow Sevika wherever she planned to take you. So you were surprised, albeit pleasantly so, when she wrapped her cloak over your shoulder and her arm around your waist, holding you close to her side as she guided you down the dark streets.

Her place wasn’t far from the Last Drop, or at least from what you could gather, as she took mostly dark back streets. She opened the door, allowing you to tentatively step inside first.

She reached in, flipping a switch to turn on several very dim lights hanging from the ceiling. After stepping inside, she closed and locked the door before pulling her hood down.

You peered around the room. It was a relatively small open space consisting of a sitting room, kitchen, and dining area. Very simple and quaint, with very few decorations. Not that you were surprised. You suspected she spent most of her time doing jobs for Silco or hanging out at the bar.

“Come on,” she grunted, her metal hand gently pressed to your back as she guided you to one of two doors at the opposite end of the room. She opened the door to what you assumed to be her bedroom. She flicked on another light and took you to a small attached bathroom at the opposite end.

“Sit,” she instructed, nodding to a wooden chair beside the sink.

You took a seat, eyes roaming the room as Sevika pulled a cleaning cloth, ointments, and bandages from a cabinet. You noticed she had no mirror above the sink, or anywhere in the bathroom for that matter.

Strange.

Sevika wet the cloth, then turned to you. “Give me your arm.”

You did as she asked, but her tone and curt words left you feeling like a naughty child. Granted, you had done something rather stupid, going out on your own at night in the Undercity. Wandering random alleys.

Despite her cold tone, she was incredibly gentle as she held your arm and began dabbing away at the blood. You winced as pain shot from several of the deeper cuts.

She paused, cloth hovering over your arm.

“I’m okay,” you assured her, but as you peered up at her face, you weren’t so sure she was okay. Her brows were tightly pinched, lips pulled into a tight line and nostrils flaring with heavy breaths. A bead of sweat slowly trickled down the side of her face.

Janna, was she really that upset about seeing you injured? It certainly couldn’t be because she couldn’t handle the sight of blood. You’d heard what she did to your attacker, and you knew her job and history. You glanced at her metal hand, expecting to find blood from your attacker, but it was surprisingly clean. Yet her face had blood smattered and smeared across it, near her mouth.

What…

“Shit,” she cursed, “I can’t do this.”

Before you could even register what was happening, she had tossed the cloth into the sink and stormed off into her bedroom.

You sat for a moment, stunned, before finally rising to your feet.

Guilt ate at your stomach as you hurriedly finished cleaning and dressing your wounds. Sevika must have been rather shaken by the whole incident. And honestly, you couldn’t really blame her. Had she not shown up in the knick of time, your fate would have likely been far worse than some cuts and bruises.

You did your best to clean up her sink and put away all the items in the cabinet she’d pulled them from. The less work she’d have to deal with because of your foolishness, the better.

After taking a deep breath, you slowly made your way into her bedroom.

You were heartbroken to find her sitting at the edge of her bed, back turned to you and shoulders tense. As you moved towards her, your attention dropped briefly to her bed. It was surprisingly well made, almost as if it hadn’t been touched in a very long time. Particles of dust even coated most of the covers. You brushed it off as nothing, assuming she spent her nights, or days, sleeping elsewhere.

You stood beside her spread thigh, your throat dry as you struggled to find words. Her head hung too low for you to really see her expression, but you could feel her frustration. “Sevika,” you began softly, “I’m really sorry. I- I didn’t mean to be such a bother. Thank you though. For saving me. I can leave-”

Sevika stood to her full height, her voice low, stern, but not angry as she spoke. “You are not a bother to me.”

You tilted your head back to meet her intense gaze. She looked as though she was fighting something, her gray eyes searching yours before dropping to your neck.

“You said you wanted to talk about something,” she murmured.

“It can wait.”

“You risked your life to come talk to me. We can talk now.”

Breaking away from her stare, you fidgeted with the bandages wrapped around the palms of your hands. “I- I wanted to ask about last night. What happened to me? I woke up lying on Silco’s settee, and you were gone, but I could only remember bits and pieces from earlier. A lot of it didn’t make sense, so maybe some of it was just my imagination.”

“What do you remember?”

Your eyes shot back up to hers.

Janna, you did not want to tell her. What if it had all been in your head? All the dirty parts. Or even some of it. And the strange parts…

“I- I remember us talking about the previous… meeting, and- and how that didn’t quite go right. You told me you wanted to continue where we left off.” You glanced down at your bandaged hands, realizing you were fraying the edges with how nervously you were fussing with them. 

“We- started kissing and- I think I ended up on my back, with your body over mine.” You paused for a moment to catch your breath, feeling suddenly warm and worked up at the thoughts. “We were- well, we were basically having sex with our clothes on.” You released a quiet, awkward laugh before continuing. “I felt so good. You felt so good. Your mouth was– everywhere. Sucking, licking, biting…” You breathlessly trailed off as you felt Sevika gently grasp your chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting your head back to look up at her again.

This time you were met with dark eyes, pupils wide with lust. You swallowed hard. Her gaze dropped to the bob of your throat, pupils widening even more before returning to your lips.

The room began to blur. Until all you could see was Sevika’s hungry eyes. And those dark, soft lips as they slowly descended.

You let your hands fall limp to your sides, eyes fluttering shut. The moment her lips connected with yours, all the thoughts that had been plaguing your mind for the last twenty four hours faded away into nothing.

Metal fingers gripped at your waist, pulling you closer. A knee pressed between your legs, intentionally dragging against your clothed heat. Your desperate mewl was swallowed by the swipe of a hungry tongue.

Uncaring how utterly wanton you were, you rocked against Sevika’s knee. Your breath hastened, body already tense with arousal.

Sevika released your lips to kiss and suck along your jaw and down to your neck. She slid her hand from your chin to the opposite side of your neck, guiding you to tilt further and give her mouth room to taste the expanse of flesh.

Moans and soft gasps spilled freely past your lips while she all but devoured you.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” she growled against your throat.

You didn’t. But if it was even half as intense as what she did to you, she’d be in for quite the ride.

You lost track of where her mouth was along your neck, realizing all too late when her tongue pressed against the marks on your neck.

You cried out, startled by the sharp pain. It quickly faded, replaced with ripples of pleasure that had your eyes rolling back and another vision playing behind them.

Sevika’s nose was pressed against your neck, her voice raspy and hungry. “You smell so fucking sweet… Bet you taste even sweeter.”

“Sevika,” you moaned breathlessly just before your legs gave way.

Sevika wrapped her metal arm around your waist, catching you before you could crumple to the floor.

The room spun while she helped you over to sit at the edge of her bed. Your eyes blurred in and out of focus. Disoriented, you hadn’t realized she’d laid you back until you caught a glimpse of the ceiling light above you.

The mattress beneath you shifted, Sevika’s blurred face slowly coming into view and blocking the light. You slowly blinked, the red-purple glow of her eyes barely registering. “I’m so tired Sevika,” you said weakly.

“I know, sweetheart. But you can’t stay here. You’re injured, and I can’t control myself.”

Her words echoed in your head unprocessed as you started drifting off. The bed shifted again and suddenly you were scooped up into strong arms- metal and flesh. Your head rolled along Sevika’s shoulder, your face buried against her neck.

You took a long, deep breath through your nose, your head swimming with her scent.

And then you were out.

CH4>>

[author-chan06]

Can you make one about 049 adopting *you*il’and taking care of you. Please and thank you :)

Hello, creepyalienghost! Apologies that it took so long for this to be done, but it is finally here! Pairing: SCP 049 & Child OC Character Wordcount: 2,458 A/N: I do hope this meets your expectations, sorry if he’s a bit off at the moment in this story, this is actually the first time I’ve really written 049, and so I was kinda trying to find my footing, and I hope you like the child character, even though they’re not complex here. The child is kinda supposed to be a self insert anyway, I just wrote it in third person, I hope you don’t mind that. Anyway, I’m rambling now, onto the story! Tws: Sickness, Implied Bigotry (Minor), Parental Neglect or Abandonment, Crying

I’ll Make It Better

Summary: After hearing about a town that has been racked with a sickness, SCP 049 goes over to see if there are any survivors he might be able to assist, and there is. He finds a child that seems to have caught the affliction but is working through it alone.

The old town seems to be deserted.

The buildings are dilapidated and empty, a silence that carries across the area and feels heavy enough to drive away any who would want to near hangs in the air. It smells of decay and death and fear, potent enough to choke any normal person.

The Doctor knows the sensations well though, and easily makes his way through the town, carefully searching through the houses for any survivors, meticulous and sure hands pulling up pieces of walls and picking the locks to check the rooms. He makes sure that no place is left out of his search.

It may seem strange, but he heard from a patron of a bar he’d gone through a couple days ago, about two towns over, about the outbreak that occurred and how it had decimated this town. They had explained in quite vivid detail how the disease has gripped people and turned them a sickly yellow, how it has given them boils that burn as hot as hellfire, and how they deserved it for what they did in that town. For how they were allowed to live there.

His sudden departure from the area had been hardly noted, and he had been glad. If he stayed any longer he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his oath to do no harm to living creatures. And moreover, he knew where he was needed.

No matter, the Doctor banishes the thought of the uncouth man and continues his search, his senses detecting some signs of life farther away. He follows it, ducking under a broken door frame and opening the door to a much smaller room that seems to be some type of bedroom. The scent of life is much stronger here, he notes, hopefully closing the door behind him and aiming to search the room as thoroughly as possible until he finds whoever or whatever it might be that had survived this scourge. It should be fairly easy with such a small space to search through, and then he can get back to his main goal of curing the wretched Pestilence from humanity.

It doesn’t take long— in truth he doesn’t even need to look, for as soon as he closes the door a cough rattles out from beneath a pile of blankets on the bed, ragged and painful sounding in a way that suggests the throat is scratched and rough, and a small hand peeks out, fingers curling around the cover and pushing it weakly to the side as if fighting against the unrelenting hand of the gods themselves; there’s another cough, and the covers slip, falling from the bed and leaving the person below completely exposed, shivering and hot. 

A child, the Doctor immediately realizes, something almost like panic pressing in his chest as he stares.

It’s not the Pestilence, or at least, it’s not the one he’s spent his entire existence fighting, but he can still feel the sickness radiating from the child. The Pestilence is present as well, but only dormant, and he knows that if the child stays like this for any longer then they will not live long enough for it to develop any farther. Usually that would betoken a job done, once the Pestilence has been infected into someone— and there are so very few without it— the only way to end it is through his cure, or death of the mortal flesh. And his cure is not perfect, it is barely satisfactory at the moment, meaning that the child would likely not survive that either. Their death would cause the exact same outcome at the moment. He should move on and find another survivor, there is surely at least one more that has less Pestilence in their system. And yet. And yet.

Dark eyes peek up at him, barely lucid but just bright enough, just there enough, that he knows they see him, and he finds himself paralyzed. Their hands curl around themselves, seeking warmth of any kind as if they can feel the chill of death breathing down their neck, and when they try to move closer, to take a closer look at him, their arms tremble and they fall backwards, a horribly painful sounding cough racking their small frame and making them whine.

He should just leave, or even try to cure them; he’s never hesitated before, and he should not allow himself such a liberty now, and yet.

He’s never wanted to harm anyone. His goal has always been to save, to help, to make better.

This child could be helped. This child could be cured. If not of the Pestilence, then of this horrible sickness that has taken hold of them now.

The Doctor inches closer, reaching out a hand to the child, who blinks blearily and tries to reach back, muscles trembling and sweat sticking their small amount of hair to their head, their fingers splayed apart as if in pain or for more reach. And he quickly grabs their hand just before it falls— he assumes it would have pitched them forward, and something about that thought makes his chest lurch— and he leans the child back, watching the way they move with him carefully, supporting their back with a hand, while keeping their hand in his, his deadly touch deactivated, as their breathing that had pitched higher at the strain calms a bit and their eyes start to clear a bit more, as if his mere presence cures them a bit, as if his mere presence helps them feel better.

He isn’t quite sure how to feel about that, but he makes sure to keep his voice as kind as he can when he finally speaks, “Child, what ails you? Did the grown folk speak of the plague harming your town?,” He pauses, and then adds, “I am a physician, and I am here to help you.”, hoping to assuage any worry the child might have of his appearance. 

Plague Doctors such as himself are common, though they were not called that by any but himself as far as he has knowledge, but most children were unfamiliar with the medical field unless something disastrous has occurred. He hopes he is the first this child has had to meet, but, from his looking around, it seems unlikely, despite how miserable that thought is. 

But he is still certainly different from others in his field— he has been told as such by many— and he would not want to scare this child with his unconventional methods and his strange looks.

“Phy…” They whisper, their voice broken and feeble. Their hand shivers in his and he moves just that much closer, pressing a hand to their forehead to measure their temperature as they try to continue, “Physic’an? Momma sai’ they only c’m ‘round in the bad,” And it’s like they remember this as they say it, because their chest jerks, eyes going wide as their body swings, trying to get away or go do something, but they cannot, their mind obviously spinning as their breathing labors in their chest and makes their lungs seize, and the Doctor helps, catching them and trying to calm the way his own heart has jumped. They are quite hot to the touch, he notes down with worry.

He settles them back on the bed, and leans back, just far enough that they have space to move without his hovering. “That is,” He hesitates. What is appropriate to tell a child in this circumstance? If their mother and father haven’t left already, then they are very likely dead, and if they did leave… The Doctor has seen that enough to be sure that they are very unlikely to come back. “The town has been struck with a nasty plague, I’m afraid.” He settles on, keeping his hand on their shoulder so they don’t jerk too hard again, and keeping an eye on their face. It does no one any good to deny them information.

They turn ashen as they swallow, and their eyes flicker back and forth, like they’re looking for something and it takes a moment for him to realize that—

This poor child is going to be heartbroken.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, “I could not seem to get here in time, and the sir and madam of this house… They do not seem to be around anymore.” He doesn’t specify for what reason, mainly he keeps it as such because he does not know for certain, but seeing the crumble of the child’s face… that might have influenced his words, he must admit. He thinks the child knows anyway— there is an intelligence about them— but he won’t say it unless they ask.

The child’s trembles intensify and they press their hands to their face, their legs pulling up to their chest slowly, and he can hear their breathing go rough, a ragged sob that has been building for he is unsure how long falls from them, and, as if a dam has been broken, they start to fall in earnest, small hands try to rub them away, to push the feelings away and make it stop, but they just continue to fall, and their lips tremble, the redness of the fever giving way to a despair that strikes the Doctor in the heart.

The Doctor does not even think before he moves closer this time, drawing the child into his side and letting them be covered by his robes as they cry, and, despite their apprehension before, they latch on immediately, stronger and more trusting than he would have ever expected making him jolt, staring down at the child, though he does not push them away, only moving to make it a bit more comfortable and to be able to have his hand on their shoulder to comfort them if need be. And they seem to appreciate it, as their hands dig into his robes and they dig their face into his chest, their tears pressing into his skin and dampening the fabric like covering. 

Not that he minds the dirtying of his clothes itself– he is a Doctor, that happens often enough— but he does wish they weren’t so sad; the tears harm his heart, and he is not used to that.

It is not something he would particularly like to get used to.

But this goes on for quite some time, and he does not rid of the child, nor does he try to cure them— no matter how much his hands itch to— and instead he just continues to hold them, eventually hesitantly shifting so that the child is on his lap, curled up and small but protected, his robes fanned out more than usual and arms settled on their back. If anyone or anything enters, it means he can turn his wrist and catch them with his deadly touch before they can harm either of them, and it means that he can rub the child’s back.

“Why would mama leave me?” The child eventually mumbles, tears still falling but starting to slow to a sluggish pace. Their face is shiny and red, eyes blurry and dark, and the Doctor is overwhelmed by a feeling he’s never had before, one that he cannot quite classify the way he would like to, and it makes him wish for a more expressive face, a more human build so that he could calm this child more effectively, so that he could show his emotions.

But he did say that he would tell them if they asked, and they are asking.

The Doctor hums, rubbing a hand down their back, listening in the silence as everything pauses, “I can not say for certain she left, child, but if she did…” The child tenses and looks up at him, and he once again wishes for a human face, anything more expressive than his beak when he admits, “It is likely she thought you would spread the plague to her and her other loved ones. She made the decision to stop the spread, because she knew it would take them as well, if she didn’t stop it.”

Their chest hitches but they don’t start crying again. They rub at their eyes roughly, but the Doctor stops that, running a gloved finger under them, and letting his beak curl into the closest he can get to a smile as his voice warms, “It could also mean, she thought you could survive on your own, that she trusted in your ability to persevere and live, and well,” The child blinks and leans into his hand, and something about that makes him feel warm. If only for a moment he worries about contracting what the child has, but he knows that’s impossible and so he continues, “She would have been right. As though you are sick now, I have gotten here on time, and by the time I leave, I promise that you will be better.”

“Better?” The child asks, hopeful and small, hands coming to clutch at his own and at his robes.

The Doctor nods, and keeps his voice warm, just as warm as he feels, as he agrees, “Better.”

It’s strange, the Doctor will readily admit that, to be curing someone of something other than the Pestilence, or even to have to comfort someone through the process, someone who can still be scared of the items and methods he is using. But he wouldn’t call it anything other than that. It isn’t painful, or bad, or awkward, or anything of the sort, and maybe that’s because it’s this special child— though he doesn’t quite understand why the child is special yet, these instincts have never driven him wrong before, they’re the same ones that pushed him onto the path of the Cure over and over again, they’re the ones that assured him that traveling through Europa was the right choice— or maybe it’s easy to comfort them for some reason that is just something that he cannot pick out.

But no matter what it is, it makes him care about this child, and since he cares he will cure them.

And when it’s time to leave—

Well, the Doctor has always needed an assistant.

Never mind the fact the child rarely remembers what he teaches, often gets the wrong ingredients and tools for him, and can cause all sorts of trouble. That’s his assistant and they go wherever he goes, and they learn, slowly but surely. And he learns with and of them, of humans and their customs, of family and friendship, of hope and laughter and excitement, and silly fun.

And he finds that he doesn’t just make the child better. No— they make him better too.

[peachkkuma]

📓. DIARY ENTRY 07 ︴MAY 15, 2024

dear loass diary…

I just fully realized that I’ve been doing this like five minutes ago, so I had to write it here to get my thoughts out, make sure I don’t forget my realization, and hopefully have an epiphany.

So, context first. I’m sick rn and I remembered a specific part of one of Neville’s lectures where he said something along the lines of how a sick man wanted to be healthy so all he did was focus on being healthy. (semi-unrelated note to future self: Notice how I put “ALL HE DID” as in, that was the only thing he did? That’s because that’s the only thing he needs to do!! it’s all about having genuine awareness of obtaining your desires, stop over complicating it and trying to make excuses when u know damn well that’s all there is to the law). After remembering that I was like, “yo why don’t I try that” because why would I want to be sick?? So anyways I was like trying (emphasis on the trying) to imagine myself as my healthiest self and only be aware of being healthy. After two minutes of that, I decided to call it quits and thought to myself “hope it works.” GIRL WHATTT?? That’s my problem right there, I’m pretending even in my own imagination. I think I have myself fooled, that I’ve deceived myself into thinking that I believe I have what I want in imagination when I DONT. Right after my so called imagining I literally had the thoughts of a person who was sick, was aware and focused on my illness, and just overall identified as someone who caught a cold. and then, that’s when the common sense hit me and I was like “wait, who do I think I’m fooling?” It’s like I thought just because these circumstances exist in the 3D doesn’t mean they can’t also be in my imagination. It fr is like i see the 3D and 4D as something separate when that’s not at all the case. Because those thoughts of me being sick? That was a state, the was who I was in imagination. Who I am in imagination. Life truly is imagination. And I rlly feel that now. So, future me, let me try to help u out by telling u how to actually get into ur desired state and maintain it:

1. Decide u have it

“I have xyz” BOOM ur done, it’s done, because creation is finished. There is nothing to create in the 3D or the 4D, it already exists exactly the way u want it to, waiting for you. So act like it.

2. State ≠ instant gratification

I’m gonna hold ur hand while I say this, states aren’t here to be a relief or a distraction. They’re not meant to temporarily ease any anxiety u have. So stop treating the sowf as a temporary escape from the 3D, it’s real. and if u keep up this bad habit, if u start seeing the sowf as just a way to shut up ur worries without actually knowing it’ll come to pass, then you’re on a dangerous road that leads to believing the 3D is the real reality. And yk that it’s not.

3. Actually maintaining a state

U r meant to see the world from the perspective of ur desired self, the u that has it all. Why do u think it’s called the law of assumption girly? U gotta assume u already got it. My thing is, I have too much going on in my real life and I think “I don’t have time to be in the sowf I have too much on my mind.” That’s a problem because one, ur allowed to be a part of the 3D. U don’t have to pretend it doesn’t exist. And two, I’m identifying with the 3D and it’s circumstances. News flash, the 3D doesn’t just disappear the moment u say an affirmation or visualize a scene, u still have responsibilities. The trick is knowing that’s not u. U don’t have to be thinking like ur desired self 100% of the time so don’t expect urself too. Deal with ur stuff, but know who u actually are, who YOU chose to be. To maintain ur state, do whatever helps u feel like ur the u want to be. Revise ur day before bed, think the thoughts ur desired self would think, but don’t force anything. Forcing urself just means u feel like u don’t have what u want, and so ur desperate to get it, if u feel like u don’t have it, don’t force a method. Instead remind urself that it’s already done, it’s been done.u already decided that u had it, nothing can erase that decision except for u.

4. Getting used to it

Everytime I think of ur desired self remember that THAT IS U!! Not someone u could be or will be soon, BUT YOU RN. If u don’t feel that way, it’s because u identify with the 3D and ur past assumptions of urself, and we already discussed how that’s a huuuuuuggggeeeee no. Don’t force urself into getting used to it because, again, force means wanting to get something out of the 3D. But that’s not the real reality, so why want something from there when u can have what u want rn? Remember that ur imagination, ur awareness, ur consciousness, whatever u wanna call it won’t lie to u. It’s the most accurate reflection of both u and ur life. What u experience in there is ur real reality, whether that be the one u want or not. So girl, get used to being who u want to be. It’ll feel so weird at first, uncomfortable rlly. Cuz ik myself, the only way I’ll get in the state is if I keep myself in check. (going on a mental diet is okay if ur not doing it for the 3D, future self.)I’ll probably just be asking myself 24/7 “would my desired self think/react/feel like that?” And honestly, that’ll probably be the only way I’ll learn. Once u start correcting urself, for the sake of wanting to be ur desired self, it’ll come naturally. Both the habit of being in the state and ur manifestations

The law wasn’t mean to be tricky, how could it be when it’s literally called the law of assumption? There rlly isn’t much to it except assuming u have what u want by helping urself believe u have what u want, so stop trying to think there’s more to it— that it’s not that simple or easy. Ur wasting ur time with everything else, the overthinking, the wondering about the when and how, the over complicating, and the wondering if u did it right. Just be.

kisses, peachkkuma

[dreamdaddydutch]

Javier x reader crying during an argument??

Thanks for your request - as always it's appreciated. This ended up being longer than I'd planned.

As a side note - I reference that the reader was sick with a virus a few months previous, this isn't based on any particular virus/illness, so if you think symptoms don't really add up with anything - that's why. It's just for the stories sake.

Pairing: Javier x gn!reader Word Count: 1,782 Warnings: Intensity of argument and accusations. Some swearing. Descriptions of illness.

As you stormed through the camp, you knew all eyes would be on you and that most of the others would have heard the harsh words spoken between you and Javier. But you cared little for gossip, you cared little about what they thought, they didn’t know Javier like you did and they didn’t know you.

Fuck them, you thought, I don’t care.

But lies don’t last long, not even the ones you tell yourself. They either get buried and fester until they become something ugly, something you eventually believe but never for the best. Or within moments the truth seeps through and you’re unable to deny the truth any longer. Today was one of those days.

Javier had gone to rob a stagecoach with Sean and John, he’d asked you to stay behind. Pretty much commanded it. But you were bored of being left behind and longed for adventure, longed to do your bit. Hunting was more your thing, hunting and gathering berries, herbs, whatever you could forage. Occasionally you’d see some action when it came to robberies and the little missions Dutch sent the others on but hearing the excitement in the voices of those who’d come back frequently from such excursions, made you want to do it all the more.

Additionally, you missed Javier. The two of you would go fishing together and sometimes he’d come hunting with you, but you wanted to be gun slinging by his side as it felt like it was somewhat romantic to you. It’s not that Javier didn’t think you’d be good at it or that you’d be a liability, he knew you could handle yourself, it’s just you were better with a bow, better at hunting and tracking. Better with formulating plans and the theory behind the actions.

Besides, recently you hadn’t been well. You’d caught a nasty virus in Clemens Point that left you bed bound for several weeks and even now you were still feeling the effects. You suspected this was the real reason Javier had been so adamant about you not joining them on any jobs for the foreseeable future. But Javier didn’t own you and so on this day for this particular robbery you’d decided to surprise the other three and turn up to help.

Only it hadn’t gone to plan. If anything, it had hindered the others, who had returned empty handed. It

On the way back to camp Javier had remained silent, furiously riding Boaz behind you so that he didn’t let you out of his site, while the others rode in front. You felt like you were being punished, that the other 3 had no trust in you so were escorting you back. Any time you tried to speak to Javier he said nothing, his face angry and hurt, the only words he said the entire time was, “Not now.”

That was what hurt, the fact he wouldn’t even acknowledge your presence. Did he really think that little of you now?

Back at the camp it was little better, you hitched your horses and then John and Sean departed quickly, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire between the two of you.

You could handle the silence no longer, it hung in the air cloying, suffocating, unrelenting, “I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I don’t know what…” Javier held his hand up to silence you, “Don’t.”

“What do you want me to say?” You begged

“Nothing!” Javier shouted back, “Nothing, there is nothing to be said okay. It is done, it’s done,” he said, his voice calming a little.

“I just wanted to be…helpful.”

Javier shook his head in disbelief, “Well, look how that turned out huh? We came back empty handed, you nearly died… Sean could have been shot. You just don’t think do you?”

“Don’t think?” You snapped, “All I do is think, you’re away so often it’s not like I can talk to you about anything. I think about you, where you are and who you’re with, especially when you don’t come back at night. Is that why you don’t like me coming with you?”

The genuine look of shook on Javier’s face at your implied accusation made you regret your words immediately. Javier was the most faithful and loyal of the lot.

You hung your head in shame, “I’m sorry Javier, that was cruel. I know you’re not…I know you’d never.”

The damage was done, “I need some time on my own.”

You looked up with tears in your eyes, but Javier had already turned away and begun walking.

All the things you wanted to say, to tell him to fuck off, to tell him to grow up, to tell him how sorry you were and how much you loved them. You opened your mouth but nothing came out, the regret just swimming in your stomach causing nausea, bile climbing your throat.

So you’d stormed through the Shady Belle camp and into the house, straight to the room you and Javier shared, slamming the door behind you.

“Trouble in paradise?” You heard Micah shout as he started laughing, “Told me you should be with me and not that…”

“Shut the fuck up or I swear to god I will ram my fist down your fucking throat you!” You paused as you saw Abigail stare at you, Jack by his side. Oh…

You turned away from the window, slamming that closed too and pulled the curtains close.

For a few minutes you stood alone, agitated and unsure of what you were supposed to do now, what he expected of you. You pulled your arms round yourself into a tight hug and tried to fight back the tears, they came anyway whether you wanted them or not. Maybe Javier was right, you should have listened and not put the others in danger, yourself in danger. It was only now you realised how close you’d come to death.

The door flung open and Javier stormed in, his presence looming over you, a shadow cast across the wall.

“Don’t Javier, if you’re here to berate me, make me feel stupid, I already feel like shit.”

“Ay, ay ay,” Javier shook his head, “Don’t you get it? I’m not mad at you over the money, I couldn’t care less. They’ll be other stagecoaches. I’m mad because you nearly got yourself killed.”

You bit your lower lip, “It wasn’t that bad…” you whispered.

Javier put his head in his hands, “Wasn’t that bad huh? If…” he stopped, clearly pained as he thought about what had happened, “You know how close you were to getting a bullet through the head?”

You shook your head, actually…you weren’t sure. “If…if…that horse hadn’t of bucked when it did you would be dead do you hear me? You would be dead.”

Dead, the word pierced through the air.

“And I,” he patted his chest, “Would be all alone and forever I would carry that guilt, what could I have done to protect you.”

“I’m not your property or some creature you can just keep Javier, it’s my life.”

He gave a mirthless laugh, clearly exhausted from the day and tired of trying to make you understand, but right now this seemed impossible.

“Mi amor, that virus that struck you down, don’t you remember?”

“Of course, I remember, how could I forget, throwing up onto the floor and having to watch the girls clean it up. Pissing myself, coughing up blood, snotty nose. What an attractive beast I must have been.” Javier let out a small chuckle, “You were still beautiful.”

He took a step closer to you, “But that isn’t what I meant. What I meant was what the doctor said afterwards, when you’d mostly recovered?”

He looked at you as he reached for your shoulder, you shook your head. You didn’t remember what he said.

“That for some time, possibly six months the illness would still have an impact. You may feel dizzy very quickly, struggle to remember things, to focus…struggle with things like taking aim, your reflexes.”

Your heart sunk as the penny dropped, shit, the doctor had said that hadn’t he? Javier wasn’t trying to keep you back at camp because he thought you were incapable or better doing camp jobs, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you or think you’d fuck things up. He was doing it because he knew it wasn’t safe for you to be participating in anything like that right now, he knew the very real danger and how easy it would be for you to get lost, confused or fail to react quickly when reacting quickly would be the only thing to stand between life and death.

You struggled to meet his gaze for a few moments, as his words sunk in, feeling foolish and ashamed you finally faced him. A sob erupted from your lips, “Oh Javier, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I didn’t remember. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should have listened to you.”

Stepping forwards you sobbed into his chest making it damp with your tears as Javier held you, the palm of his hand pressed against the small of your back.

“It’s okay, shhhh mi amor. It’s done now, it’s done and you’re still here as is Sean,” Javier attempted to reassure you, though you barely heard his words through the sound of your tears and heart pounding in your chest.

He tilted your chin up gently, his thumb gently brushing over your lower lip, “I know you didn’t mean what you said. I know you didn’t mean for that to happen.”

His dark brown eyes studied you, saw how you reacted to his words, whether you trusted in him, whether you believed in him. You did, no matter how hard it was, you believed because you had to.

“I love you, there is no one else for me. You know I respect you,” Javier begun but you reached up and placed a finger to his lips, “I know, it’s me who should be apologising and not you.”

Javier shook his head, “No, we both said things we didn’t mean, I over-reacted,” he paused, “A little anyway,” his lip curled into a small smile, his hand reached for your face, fingers tracing back across your scalp.

“Just promise me you’ll listen going forward if I say no there’s a reason, okay? Please trust me.”

“I will and I do, I do trust you.” Javier placed a kiss to your lips and held you against him for a few seconds.

As he held you he made the best suggestion you’d heard in a while, “Let’s stay in here for a bit before we go out to the others huh?”

[bunny-atsunset]

hi hi, hellooooo!! noticed that you came back recently and that there is space for a request! so if you can and would like, could I request for Leona with an s/o that's afraid of being in a relationship with him because they are disabled? I have beta thalassemia for life and I'm constantly falling ill and afraid that my life will end because it's such a hassle to live with and I'm afraid that any partner I may have won't want anything long-term with me because sometimes I can't even function like a normal person. I'm sorry for the rant, but some comfort would be nice :) hope that you are doing well and taking care of yourself!

[Leona with a Disabled S/O GN] COMFORT

Content warning: NONE really, MOSTLY F L U F F, cursing, implied long-term relationship, mentions of illness

A/N: Your request touched my heart and I wanted to give you something nice! I tried my best and please let me know if you enjoyed it dear anon! I kept the details of the disability vague so I hope that is okay. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write something so heartfelt and special with Leona. I feel that contrary to popular belief...he would be an attentive S/O and that's why I created this blog in the first place!

I am wonderful and hope you are too! I wish the best for you and hope you are also taking care!💕 Enjoy~

Leona is very observant of your emotions and needs. He knows when you've got something on your mind and this day was no different. When you had gotten sick the last time he took you back home with him for a short break, enduring his overbearing family so you could have all the comfort you needed while you were recovering. He pulled out all the stops for you, as much as his privilege would allow.

He found you in the royal gardens. It was a balmy spring morning in the Sunset Savanna and you were kneeling on the cobbled ground, tending to some succulents you had planted the last time you visited Leona’s family. They were a bit overgrown and a few that had gotten lost in the shade were missed by the royal gardeners. That's when you heard the telltale footsteps behind you.

You sighed as you turned around, knowing that you were in big trouble with your mate. He stood with his arms crossed, his usual stern expression a bit wavering in the pink light of the greenhouse. “Think I wouldn’t notice my bun was missin’?” He said, tail whipping behind him in irritation.

 If you hadn’t known your lion so well it may have sounded a bit harsh to a stranger's ears. You swallowed the lump in your throat and shrugged him off, laughing and wrinkling your nose up at him. “Pfft. Go back to bed, Lion.” You ordered him casually. Bringing your attention back to your precious plants, you counted the various abandoned pots you had found all around the garden, making sure you had enough. You were planning on bringing a few back to your room so you could enjoy them there.

“Nope.” He yawned loudly, squinting into the sunlight. “Not unless you're comin’ back with me,” He said simply, his dark hair was extra messy from sleep and his golden robe hung crookedly from his slumped frame. “C’mon you can do this later, Bunny.” The timbre of his words held a subtle longing that made your chest ache. 

Your mind had been…heavy lately with a few unrelenting thoughts, but mostly you were worried about him. You knew your lion was more sensitive than even you about these sorts of things, even if he didn’t show it. “I’m fine,” You insisted, standing with a large repotted desert rose in your hands, reaching up to swipe a bit of sweat from your forehead.

Unfortunately, it was a bit heavier than you thought and one hand was not enough. It slipped from your fingers with a clatter, shattering dirt and glass on the ground. “Damn-!” You stumbled forward, almost going down with it when strong, warm hands caught you around your arm and your waist. “Oops.” You tried to laugh it off, feeling a bit lightheaded from the whole thing. You looked up to your partner who wasn’t amused at you overdoing it. “Bun...” He said a bit firmly, ears lowering to you.

Oh no. Leona couldn’t hide it. He was…worried for you. Your guilt bubbled up, and a few tears spilled over your eyes in shame. You blinked them away before he could see but, of course, he did. That was your lion after all. “I’m fine.” You repeated. “Just a little dizzy.” You whispered and he gently turned your body to face him, steadying you in his arms. “B-besides…” You continued clumsily. “...Gotta get used to not having me around sometimes.” You shrugged, keeping your eyes down.

Leona scoffed, using his clean robe sleeve to wipe away the tracks of your tears and the specks of dirt from your face. ”And why the hell would I do that?” He gave you one of his crooked smiles and he was holding himself together much better than you. “Because.” You continued. “You know-” You shrugged, thinking of your limitations, you knew it was a burden on him sometimes, even though he wouldn’t admit it or ever hold it against you. “What if…I won't be aro-”

Before you could finish your sentence he cupped your jaw with his hand, urging you to look at him, and squished your cheeks with his fingers affectionately soft. “Hm? What’s that? You wanna come back to bed with me, Bunny? Order some breakfast from the kitchens?” He mused, his eyes didn't quite match his cheeky grin, but he kept on teasing you.

He reached around your body, using his other free hand to pinch your sides where he knew you were ticklish. “Stop, Stop it!” You cackled and wiggled in his arms and he continued his one-sided conversation, reeling you closer to him. “Glad we’ve agreed.” He chuckled in your ear calmly.

“Lion, don’t you fucking dare!” You scolded him with a warning. “Hey! When I feel better I’m gonna-” You gasped when he picked you up with much care, interrupting your hollow threats as he put you over his shoulders, lifting you from the ground in a loose fireman’s carry. You were miffed, tugging on one of his braids to let you go, “Wait, wait, my desert rose!” You cried out, reaching back toward the mess you made of the broken pot and your poor, poor cactus.

”Eh, I’ll get someone else to come 'n rescue it.” He droned before carrying you away, you complaining the whole way, laughing through the halls of the sunny palace at his antics. The passing servants knew at this point you and your lion were just playing and these sorts of shenanigans between you two were so normal that none of them even reacted anymore.

You convinced Leona to let you try to make breakfast for the two of you. At least on days when you felt better, you preferred to cook your own meals or help out with the palace kitchen staff. Though…today wasn’t one of those days. On days like today, you accepted you were gonna be on the losing side of any argument with your overprotective partner.

However, a miracle did happen though, your lion actually took over kitchen duties for the first time you’d been together.  It was a…disaster but he was trying at least. Intently, he listened to your instructions on how to make a few fried eggs and ham for the two of you, one ear perched toward you. It was entertaining to see such a proud man out of his element, fumbling so hard. He was so apt at judging food, you thought he might be a little better at this.

You watched him with an amused and somewhat smug expression, sitting on the countertop behind him, snugly wrapped by him in his silk robe. You were still a little bit tired from your excursion earlier but you couldn’t help intervening. “Oh here, let me do it!” After having enough, you came up behind him and tried to show him how to crack an egg properly… without magic. “What would you do without me?” You snickered, judging him harshly as you flipped one of the crooked eggs, saving it from burning on the edge of the pan.

By the time it was over the two of you ended up switching positions and he stood behind you now, chest pressed against your back while you seasoned and finished grilling the meat. It was…a lot for you considering how tired you were, but whenever you got dizzy he would make sure to hold you up or steady your hand when you lifted the heavy pan. You saved breakfast but unfortunately for the sad eggs you couldn’t fix their form, deciding to make them scrambled as he rested his chin on your shoulder. Leona nuzzled into your neck, distracting you, all the while making soft sounds of contentment in your ear.

After breakfast, you promised to never let him live it down that he tried to use a spice grinder upside down.  He dusted the dirt from your knees and the two of you shared a bath for your sore body. Once dry, Leona insisted you wear one of his tunics instead, even dressing you despite your playful protests. You weren't in any condition to refuse.

Your lion made good on his promise to carry you gently back to his bed, drawing the curtains for you as it was now almost noon. He laid you over him and brought your sleepy face to his chest. He sighed as he hooked his arms behind you, occasionally tracing his fingers over your spine under your top. 

It turned out to be a good morning after all. You burrowed your face into his chest, his steady heartbeat beating against your ear. The strong, familiar scent of cinnamon, star anise, and orange comforted you. In this quiet time, you gathered your thoughts from earlier, finally coming down from your playful mood. “L-leona,” Your voice cracked a bit, playing with the end of his long hair. “Do you ever…regret us, you know…getting together…?” Was this really the future mate he imagined he’d have?

“Hm?” He seemed to have almost been asleep when he responded. “Ah,” You tsked. “Nevermind.” You shrugged, hiding your face behind his robe, realizing you shouldn’t have said that. He tugged down the fabric to look at your pouty expression, laying his head back on his pillow to see you better.

You were caught now, so you tried to explain your complicated thoughts. “It sucks…” You lamented. “Just feels like… we wasted so much time.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I… just don’t want you to have any regrets when it comes to…me…”

You could feel him tremble but he stayed brave, releasing a small, unsteady breath. “Awe, bun.” He started through a soft scoff, his green eyes never leaving yours as he spoke, “...If you think for one second I regret any of my time with you, you are even crazier than I thought.” His voice softened over his words, and then he tapped your temple for emphasis, ending with a small smirk. “Hey!” You puffed your cheeks at him, flicking his nose like he was a common cat, in a familiar gesture of yours.

“Tch.” A small laugh rumbled in his chest before he swallowed, and another shuddery breath left his mouth, wrapping you further into his robe. “C’mere.” You obliged this request to move even closer, chuckling as you looped your arms through his robe sleeves so that you both shared it. You laced your fingers with his after you popped your hands through.

“Mmm.” The man rubbed his pinky against yours. “Listen, none of that shit matters anyway, you're here now.” He muttered his words into your hair, inhaling softly before saying something in his native language. ”Tuliumbwa kuwa pamoja...” (We were created for each other…) You'll always be my Bunny. Alright…?” He chuckled again, hand settling on your lower back. “Long as you’ll have me, I…never wanna be apart from ya.”

You were at a loss so you laughed along with him, your chest squeezing. “Oh.” Your eyes burned, drawing a few circles in his palm. You couldn’t see his face now but maybe it was better that way. “Thought you didn’t believe in always.” You teased your logical mate through a whisper.  He only snorted in response and then pretended to be asleep, something he usually did when you outmatched him.

Oh well, neither one of you wanted to ruin another of your warm and lazy mornings. The two of you didn’t need to say it out loud. Both of you would take the good days…and the bad. And Leona didn’t mind acting as your own personal pillow on days you weren’t able to do much. You glanced at the rows of plants he had arranged for you by the windows, leaving a sliver of light for them at your request.

Closing your eyes, you soaked in the warmth of your lion beneath you, who was breathing in time with you. His tail fell across your back as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

[thevestigeofvanillaan]

"What's Your Name?"

kai anderson x female reader part 2.

part 1!

content: reader is pregnant, doctors appointment, cuddling, mentions of death, just fluff.

Kai picked you up from your home about a week later, the two of you heading to the doctors appointment that was schedules for today.

The car ride was silent. It was a mix of awkward and comfortable silence. There really was nothing to say.. what were you supposed to say?

It didn't take long to get to the building, heading inside and taking the paperwork before sitting a whole chair apart from one another. A random person would have thought you were two people here for unrelated reasons with how Kai just scrolled through Facebook and you filled out paperwork.

Exchanging no words until the doctor calls your name, inviting you to the back.

As you stand up, Kai follows with a hand on your shoulder closest to his, letting go at the door.

The ultrasound was ready and you saw the screen. "There's nothing there." You say.

"That's not your uterus.." The doctor giggled softly, leading down the weird camera thing.

"There still isn't anything there." You start to believe the tests could have possibly been wrong.

"Right here." She points at a small pea sized little dot.

Confusion lingered on your face. "That's my baby?"

The doctor again giggles. "Yes ma'am." She says before the camera zoomed in to show something that was very evidently a baby.

All you could do was stare at the screen as the doctor left the room for a moment. Oh my god. This was your child you were looking at. You look at Kai, who's looking at you.

Sighing and looking away, throwing an arm over your eyes. "I'm so tired, the lights hurting my eyes."

"You sleep bad last night?" Kai asks.

"Horrible. I felt so sick and hot and uncomfortable." You groan and take your arm off your face. "I wanna take a nap after this."

"We're gonna get lunch first."

"What are we getting?" You ask, intrigued and sitting up to look at him better.

He shrugs, "Whatever you want, mama."

And there the two of you went, to go get lunch.

Afterwards, Kai brought you a different way from your house.

"You missed our exit." You yawn in tiredness.

"I know, I want you to come to my place. I'll let you sleep there; I just wanna talk to you first."

And so he brought you to his home, where he'd being you to the basement and sit you down at a table where he'd sit across from you.

Kai held up his pinkie, "Take my pinkie."

Holding up your own before chaining it to his.

"Promise to tell the brutal truth?" He asks, raising his brows and you nod. "Do you get scared easy?"

"No." Is all you reply with.

"What if I was a killer?"

"Then that'd be pretty unfortunate if you killed us." You say, referring to yourself and your baby.

Kai smiles softly. "Have you ever killed someone?"

"Almost. I was about.. maybe seven when I caused a fire on the playground. I tried for days to light a fire with two sticks, when I did I was so surprised I threw the sticks down and all the wood chips went ablaze." You giggle in the memory. "I wish that bitch caught on fire."

"So you've wanted to kill someone before.?"

"God knows I'd set the world on fire if I could." You think for a moment. "Kai?" Your eyes lock. "Are you a killer?"

He hesitates, "I'm a mastermind. I'm a leader, the leader of vengeance."

"Cool. What do you mean leader?" You ask, yawning.

"A cult." He takes his pinkie away, standing up and taking your arm. "Now you're gonna go nap."

Walking with him as he leads you to a mattress lying on the floor. "Wait I wanna know more."

He lays you down and you pout. "Tell me about your cult, Mr. Anderson." You pat the side of the bed next to you as you lay on your side, facing him. He crawls onto the bed and lays down as you snuggle into his side.

There was only one pillow, so you chose to use Kai's chest as your pillow and he'd use the other one.

Kai told you about the killing, how he's city council, which you didn't know because you hate politics.. How he had Meadow attempt to assassinate him. The masks. Basically everything I needed to know.

And to that, you fell asleep in his arms to his raspy voice talking about his plans as city council and how he's gonna take over.

[appropriatelystupid]

can you tell us the story of how you found your cats? i'm sick in bed and would love a heartwarming story :)

ooo you caught me at the right time because i just sat down with quite a bit of time to kill (also I hope you feel better soon <3)

when i say rey picked me i fucking mean it

it’s a lengthy so i’m gonna put it under the cut and kitten pics (first pics i took of the three of them)

our story begins all the way back in 2015:

over the summer i’d had to say good bye to one of my two remaining childhood cats, pongo, after ~17 years. my mom still had the last, catscan, but in september i would be leaving for a new job in a new state and she wouldn’t be able to come with me

there was a few months of training for this new job that meant i was in a situation where i couldn’t have pets yet but by mid december i was in my new apartment and DESPERATELY needed felines back in my life (legit this is the longest i’d ever lived without a cat in my home)

so finally, sorta settled between xmas and new years, i began my search for some kittens

i pretty quickly found the closest humane society to me and started scrolling their cats and there was a GORGEOUS long-haired tortie/calico kitten with a tragic backstory to boot

within a day or two i drove over to try and meet the kitten and see if any others seemed bonded to it because i knew i wanted two so they’d have company while i was at work

so i get there and do some intro stuff with the staff and run through the five cats i’d grown up with (and the bonus cats that crossed my life in various ways) clearly proving i wasn’t terrible and was absolutely qualified for adoption. the next step was meeting all the cats they had

(a brief note about the layout of this place: it’s located in an old house that’s been remodeled to serve this purpose so there are a handful of rooms set up for different groups of cats and each room has a door that’s almost fully a window so they can keep an eye out easier)

so we go into the first room that has the very little kittens and obviously they’re all adorable but they’re only just big enough to technically be ready to go to a new home so none of them jumped out at me

the second room, as it turned out, would be the game changer

in the second room only had two cats in it. lucy and leon (who i remembered had a terribly unflattering photo on the website) were nearly six months old and were very obviously related and likely part of why they were separated from the others

the room had a cat tree in one corner but also had a wall mounted about waist height on three of the walls for them to get to the window. there was a single folding chair placed to the side of the room

so we approach the second room and the employee showing me around tells me she has to take care of something and that i should just wait in the room until she’s done (majorly sus but i think she could tell rey was about to pick me). both kittens are standing in the door window watching me come over

so i scooch into the room and go to sit in the chair and before i’m even fully seated the girl cat is already jumping in my lap to curl up and start purring. the boy, clearly more skittish than his sister, gets up on the wall to sniff at me from a safer distance but eventually stretches out to get a paw on my shoulder to really get some sniffs in

i only sat there for maybe five minutes but my original plan was wobbling majorly

the staffer comes to get me eventually and we continue through the rest of the rooms. the fourth room had the gorgeous kitten and some other unrelated cats. and it was too nervous to really let me pet her. the others didn’t seem too interested in our presence either so no second cat from the room seemed like the one either

we moved on, headed downstairs to the new new kittens who weren’t ready for adoption and the seniors who i wish i could’ve considered more seriously (my pain from the summer was still a little too fresh and i knew catscan was only going to be around so much longer)

as we head upstairs to finish up some paperwork we talk through the next steps. they like my vibes but still need to call my references to do their do diligence. when we walk by, lucy and leon are back in their door window watching

i leave for the day, text my friend to warn her she’d be getting a call, and head to target to pick up some stuff. within an hour, barely into my target run, i get the call that i’m approved to adopt, and do i have any front runners for who i wanted to take home

there was no question about it: it had to be lucy and leon

rather unfortunately, the timing of it all meant i couldn’t actually pick them up until january 2nd (only four days later but a long four days of impatience) but then, just like that, i had two precious little kittens in my house just in time for their sixth month birthday on the 3rd, now named rey and legolas

~cut to april 2021~

i’m sitting at work one day and my buddy texts me that his sister came home that day, during a storm, to discover four kittens in a storm drain/gutter. she’d sat around for a bit to see if a mother came back but after an hour or so couldn’t bear to leave them out alone anymore so she brought them inside

i let him know, if she needed any help with placing them after she got them checked out i could probably help (we lived near each other and both my parents had separately talked about wanting a cat again. and i was moving out of my apartment into more space and figured i could probably handle a third if it came down to it)

two-ish months later, i’ve moved lego and rey into their new house and my buddy texts me again, am i still interested in another cat

there was one of the four yet to be claimed and i said absolutely give me the little guy

my buddy puts me in touch with his sister and we sort out a time for me to come by and, within a day or two, kieran joins the clowder

[dumb-puppy-whore]

Do all the omo questions, I dare you 😈

1 - What do you enjoy the most about omorashi & pee desperation?

The humiliation of needing to pee and not knowing if you're going to make it

2 - What do you like to see in the aftermath of an accident?

I actually hate the aftermath but its less bad with minimal clean up and someone to help with aftercare

3 - Where's the most unusual or unique place you've peed?

When I was a kid I had to pee in a trash can because my family was on a road trip and the store we came across had just closed 5 minutes prior

4 - What kink pairs best with omorashi or pee desperation for you?

Humiliation, age play, and diapers

5 - Do you prefer being desperate to pee, or seeing others desperate?

Being desperate

6 - Do you have a strong bladder or a weak bladder? Large bladder, or small bladder?

Small-ish but strong

7 - What was the longest time that you’ve ever held your bladder? And did you make it to the bathroom?

I often miss signals my body gives me so I honestly could not tell you. maybe last time I did a live hold

8 - Have you ever made someone else wet themselves?

No

9 - Do you have a favorite outfit for omorashi or wetting?

Not really, prefer to wear minimal clothing though

10 - What drink gets you the most desperate in a short amount of time?

No one drink really gets me more desperate it just depends on the volume

11 - Do you prefer when people groan from relief, or whimper from embarrassment?

I'm not into controlling/watching other people and Im not a fan of hearing myself do either

12 - Do you like tiny leaks, big gushing leaks, or no leaking at all?

I like all of them but I think big gushes are much more embarrassing and nervewracking which makes them more appealing to me

13 - Do you prefer more extreme desperation with a 'just made it' ending, or mild desperation with wetting?

I think probably extreme desperation with a 'just made it' ending

14 - How would you feel if you got caught peeing somewhere unusual?

If it was at like a kink event or something where that kind of thing was okay I would feel embarrassed but probably get over it but if it was truly in public I would simply pass away

15 - Are there any words or phrases in omo that get you weak at the knees?

Anything that brings attention to the humiliation of it. like if someone is trying to be discrete about it and use fomal/medical language to describe their desperation but then whoever theyre with is like "oh do you need to go potty?"

16 - Name an under-appreciated omorashi trope.

I don't know that its really under-appreciated but like whump situations where someone is really sick or hurt and they can't tell/be bothered to go when they need to

17 - Name a kink you’re on the fence about, and explain why.

Cathaters/Sounding - its very hot in theory but there are so many things that can go wrong with it that it makes me nervous

18 - What’s something you fantasize about, but would hate in real life?

This is unrelated to omo but misgendering/sissification

19 - What type of porn does the world need more of?

T4T puppyboy x femdom

20 - What omo trope do you know is cliche or unrealistic, but you love anyway?

When the stoic character is desperate

21 - What's something you only see in animated porn or fictional erotica that you wish was possible in real life?

a victim's bladder filling up like a balloon

22 - How do you feel about fear wetting?

horny.

23 - How do you feel about bed-wetting?

😵‍💫😵‍💫🥺🥺

24 - How do you feel about bathroom schedules or needing permission to pee?

🥺🥺🥺🥺🫣🫣🫣🫣🥴🥴🥴🥴

25 - Do you like watersports/golden showers?

yes

26 - When's the last time you were desperate to pee without meaning to be?

Now

27 - When's the last time you didn't quite make it to the toilet?

About a week ago

28 - Have you ever peed outside or in public?

Yes

29 - Are you shy about your bladder needs, or are you open about peeing?

Im shy when talking about it but not bladder shy

30 - What is the wildest pee fantasy you ever had that actually came true?

I haven't really gotten to explore many of my fantasys

31 - Name one pee-related turn-on and one turn-off you have.

Turn-on: when you eat a girl out and there's residual piss flavor

Turn-off: dark yellow/amber dehydrated piss

32 - Dramatic pee dance, or denying their desperation?

Both

33 - Jeans wetting or skirt wetting?

Skirt

34 - Athletic uniform or business uniform?

Athletic

35 - Naked holding or cozy casual holding?

Depends on my mood but usually both

36 - Do you pee in the shower?

Sometimes

37 - Do you pee in the water when you go swimming?

Sometimes

38 - Do you or would you pee in front of a date or partner?

Partner: yes, Date: depends on the relationship

39 - Would you let a date or partner help you hold in your pee?

Partner: yes, Date: depends on the relationship

40 - Whats your safe-word?

Depends on the scene

[seeminglyseph]

I feel really bad because relatives visited and I was so tired I just like. slept through the whole thing. and I'm worried that I'm gonna catch hell for being rude, or just. like. I feel like I missed a chance for human interaction. but I just... have been really tired lately. body sore. exhausted. also just like. I think my sinuses are inflamed or something because just. everything feels so fuckin' like. swollen. I feel like migraine-tastic and have not been able to get out of bed.

and like. I am not sure the balance that needs to be set 'cause they all had to be doin' renovations in the room next to mine, and like. ultimately, hopefully, I will be the one benefiting from it. and like. yay. but also. loud banging and dust and stuff as a result of renovating that room, so boo. and like. I don't know how to like. sort myself or organize my sleep schedule to be convenient so it's like. I'm trying but also like... if I get high stress and need personal space and time alone it feels like I just end up adapting to nocturnal as a coping mechanism. like the more I am overwhelmed by being awake the more I shift so being awake is at night? and it's like inconvenient to other people and I want to try and adapt it to work at a timeline that's like... normal and decent for the people who have ended up working around me, but like. instead it's like... "I'm gonna scream and throw up and tear all my hair out"

which like. not conducive to an environment where I can like. handle this. the migraines and the intense heart rate is like. absolutely thrashing my ability to function and like. I fully do not know what to do. And it feels so... like. A me problem, that's like. so hard to describe. that like... I don't know if I'm just being crazy. and I know I do feel crazy because of other things, so like it doesn't help... and I'm wondering if I caught a mind case of covid and couldn't tell it from a cold or flu and now I have long covid and if there's any way to tell if that's the case since I also have had the vaccine so I'll have the antibodies anyway. or maybe I had a really nasty reaction to the vaccine, I mean it's a net good to have a vaccine but not everyone is gonna have a positive reaction and I've always been really sensitive to medication. There's been some ties to IIH and the Johnson&Johnson vaccine, I got the pfizer but I saw somewhere there was a controversy with the pfizer too. I'm obviously not anti-vax in any way, I think they're a net good. I'm just like... always going to be in some way cautiously aware of the fact that the medical industry is fallible and an industry? Like I've gotten the vaccine and boosters, but as a human being I'm allowed to be like.. "I've had a lot of health issues since then, I wonder if there's a connection or if they are unrelated. I wonder if there's a way to test if they are related and if there's a way to do that without undermining the whole industry and just going 'I am a person with health issues that might make the vaccine behave differently within my body'" you know? like not. 'vaccine bad' but like 'my body is not a typical healthy body, my autoimmune issue might cause the vaccine to react differently' so my questions are not laid at the validity of vaccines as a concept but at like... 'could there have been complications due to the medications and compromised system already housed within my body' you know?

It's such a thorny issue because like. any question that seems to be against the vaccine is like... seemingly irrational anti-vax, but like... I'm just wondering if I happen to have like. A fucked up weird body that happened to have a toxic response in some way? it has nothing to do with like... Is the vaccine bad, but like... was it bad for me, I guess. And even then it's like. kinda speculation because I'm overwhelmed and I feel really really sick and I really don't know who to ask for help anymore?? sometimes it's like. fuck it's been like... two years since we found out about the pressure in my brain, and I still feel like I don't know what's going on. I just have migraines and a fucked up heart rate, and most people kinda forgot about the heart rate because I've been doing a bunch to keep it down because I feel so fucked up when it gets high. So it looks really low, but I also look really lazy. but I feel it beating really hard but I don't know how to like... prove that to people, because it's mostly just a feeling. and things just smell... strongly and bad. all the time. and I don't know what to do about that and I don't know if it's topiramate or not anymore... and considering my mom is like. the queen of making me doubt my perception of reality in her own little way, maybe I've just spent 3 years living exclusively with my mom without my dad to balance out her habits and I just. Am fully losing my mind. "I don't smell anything. I didn't notice anything. It's not that bad. You don't really have any needs." etc.

I don't know what is healthy to want or need, and since I've been kinda my mom's keeper since I was a child and now my dad's not here I feel like I have to be here for her... but also I'm disabled and in debt so I fully cannot move or get a job or go to school because like... it feels like making excuses but like. I am very ill and in a lot of pain, disability is a real thing that prevents people from functioning and I don't have to keep justifying it to myself when I know full well how bad my situation is and can be. I know what trying to keep up can do to me and what I'm incapable of doing. just because if someone took a picture I would look like a person that people like to make jokes about, doesn't mean that the inside of my body works right. That's the shame talking. I know full well that I can't 'just try harder' because I tried harder and just got sicker. I *know* that. I'm going to doctors, I'm doing my best with what I have and it's okay that it's not as much as what other people can do. it's okay. I'm allowed to be sick and need support. That's what being disabled is. Having a hobby that I do now and then doesn't prove I'm not disabled, I can't curl up in a ball and die just because things take effort and drain me. I can't only prioritize self-improvement or helping other people. Sometimes I need to have fun or do things for me. It's okay to spend time playing a video game or drawing pictures that are just for fun. I can exist for me that's fine. it's normal and reasonable and in fact probably recommended because my mental health is necessary for a healthy lifestyle.

oh I am definitely talking myself down from a guilt spiral I don't know why I am in this weird headspace. what the fuck...

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

@centaurianthropology

Making this a reblog reply due to length.

So this is a most kind offer! Though, I'm not sure we'll get anywhere with the scarcity of what is provided. Everything we have on his health is obnoxiously vague. I can't tell if there's an ongoing thing or if he was just prone to illness. He mentions being bed ridden at different times in various letters across the entirety of his life, so it wasn't an uncommon occurrence.

The mention of chronic stomach issues comes from Corsi's 16th century biography of Ficino wherein he writes:

His bodily constitution contained excessive blood which was mixed with a thin subtle red bile. His health was not at all settled, for he suffered very much from a weakness of the stomach, and although he was always cheerful and festive in company, yet it was thought that he sat long in solitude and became as if numb with melancholy. [...] Though he was often sick, and gravely so, and there were fears for his life, his health was restored through prayers of many friends on his behalf and he reached his sixty-sixth year. [...] Throughout his life he was content with simple clothes and possessions. He was neat rather than elegant and was strongly adverse to all extravagance. He obtained the necessities of life readily enough; otherwise he was sparing in food, but he did select the most excellent wines. For he was rather disposed towards wine, yet he never went away from parties drunk or fuddled, though often more cheerful. [...] Whether death came to Marsilio from old age or, as some maintain, from his stomach ailment, I have not been able to discover.

Given the humour theory and the role wine plays in that, it is not surprising he viewed good wine as important to maintaining his health. If his humours ran sanguine/wet and hot, then dry red wine would be seen as a balancing effect.

But what is meant by stomach troubles is left unstated. In one of his letters in 1474 Marsilio mentions fever and inconstancy, which could have been his stomach ailment? Also could have been unrelated or a compounded issue:

I have not yet finished my book On the Christian Religion, Francesco, because during August, while I was still correcting it, I caught a fever a diarrhoea. [...] Listen to what has happened to me during this illness. There were times when I became so weak, Marescalchi, that I almost despaired of recovery. I then turned over in my mind those great works I have often read during the last thirty years, to see if anything occurred to me that could ease a sick heart. Except for the Platonic authors, the writings of men did not help at all, but the works of Christ brought much more comfort than the words of philosophers. What is more, I offered prayers to the divine Mary and begged for some sign of recovery. I felt some relief immediately, and in dreams received a clear indication of recovery. [...] A few days later, with a similar prayer, I was free from the heat of my urine. [...]

The heat from the urine I assume could be anything from dehydration (especially if he was feverish and had diarrhoea) to UTI to something else entirely.

The vague references are all the same and this undated letter to Giovanni (written pre-March 20, 1478 as Marsilio's father is alive) captures the broad sentiment:

The care of my own sick body and that of my father is one burden for me. Your absence is another. Both must be borne with equanimity, lest they become burdensome through impatience. But if you have any humanity, do not add to my double burden yet a third, too great a burden if you do not return my books. [...]

(Marsilio, spending his life asking for people to return his books to him.)

In October 1468 we know he fell ill for a few weeks as he writes to Giovani: "[...] In the evening I became sick and am not yet recovered." But no greater details are provided.

The 1474 illness, which is mentioned above, was so bad that he couldn't write for a time. As he notes to Lorenzo de' Medici in a letter:

As soon as my hand could lift a pen, I considered it wrong to write to anyone else before writing to my sole patron. [...]

In a reply to this letter, Lorenzo says:

I am very glad indeed that your former health has been restored. I should be even more glad if, through attending to your letter, I could recover my former health of mind. [...] Once more I rejoice both for your sake and mine that immortal God has restored you to us safe and sound. I have recieved as much of a reminder as you by this danger to your life. [...] I mean thus to profit more from both you and time; from time because it has no tomorrow, from you because you are a man for whom no moment is free from the dread of death. Farewell and take care of your health.

Tendency towards exaggeration aside, I do think whatever happened in 1474 was quite serious and seemed to have lasted for at least two to three months. Though Lorenzo's "you are a man for whom no moment is free from the dread of death" I read as an allusion to ongoing/long term illness of some form. Momento mori, of course, but if that were the case he'd have included himself.

Two years later, 1476, he writes to Giovanni:

Because I am now forced to spend long periods in bed, I have been considering a remedy against the tedium of continuing confinement. The first, indeed the only one who could relieve the tedium threatening me, came to mind; my Cavalcanti, my especial doctor. And so welcome again, my health giver, expeller of my evils, preserver of my goods. [...]

In 1480 Marsilio writes to Bernardo Bembo:

After a long stay in the country, I was compelled at last by important business to return to the fever-ridden city. Here, on the 1st of July, cruel Mars hurled twin flames upon me, bringing me suddenly to the point of death. [...] Since I knew, however, that the frail state of my body could not bear two fevers, especially in July, nor the necessary help of the doctors, "I lifted up mine eyes unto the hills, from whnce cometh my help. My help cometh even from the Lord, who hath made heaven and earth." On the instant, contrary to all physical explanation, through the flow of divine mercy, a breath from heaven blew into me and straightway extinguished both flames even as they grew. [...]

The footnotes to this letter speculate that he might have been suffering from malaria "in which, on every third day, two crises occur." Not sure if that is the case, but that's what is noted.

-----

I'm not sure if you're able to make anything out of any of that? It's frustrating and I wish to go back in time and ask Marsilio to detail to me every symptom he ever had, I'm fairly certain he would do so gleefully.

oh! oh! Marsilio gets to complain of his health! Marsilio has a new audience for medical talk! Marsilio is in heaven. Marsilio is in heaven for a thousand years.

What I want to know is what Marsilio suffered from in terms of his chronic illness. It was potential stomach related - but also maybe something more? It's always so vaguely discussed and I want to know more~~~

[eluxcastar]

Hii I love you work!

I was wondering if I could request an angsty/sad scenario or something with Urd, Ky luc and Rigr?

Honestly I just wanna cry and I love your writing and these dude and i need smt to cry about💀💕

Some angst for you.

FEATURES: urd geales, ky luc, rígr stafford

CW: baby straight up dies beware, smug doctors, bad writing, reader is mildly a bitch to Lest in Rígr's

WC: 3.1k

NOTES: if I recall correctly I got a request like this a while ago but had no idea what to do with it, I have since made Neru (an unrelated character of mine who so happens to work really well in this context) so Rígr got spoiled because I had the opportunity to write about her (still x gn!reader but the storyline is hers), admittedly the other two are kinda meh but I'm not that comfortable with angst yet so I just need time

₊˚⊹꒷ urd geales

you thought it would work, you really did. A pleasant doctor of a time when doctoring didn't mean what it does now, something based purely on your curiosity and the way you reacted to things you were never meant to witness that made him like you. 

initially a rocky start, he'd be more than glad to never have you shove your fingers in his mouth again. The sentiment was endearing though, someone he viewed as fragile by design that took a morbid interest in him as something that worked in the world of the living only a few steps away from death. You once thought it would be something that would 'change the medical field as we know it' but you came to understand all too soon his great reluctance to do so. 

it was the second time he'd drank your blood, the first time he'd lost control to do it, something he doesn't enjoy about being around you while you work is the lingering stench of blood in the air that follows you. His intention has never been to hurt you, the little doctor who won't seem to leave him alone, and he won't deny good company. Of course you're the first to react, clicking your tongue and tutting over the fact he bite somewhere you can't treat by yourself easily. All the while his head is in your lap sputtering his apologies as how he doesn't know the why or how he lost composure, and even a hand on his head and a quiet reassurance doesn't help. 

you say he worries too much, he says he doesn't worry enough. Something about you lessens his self-restraint, and he hurts you again and again in fits of blind hunger, like his own body resists the notion of having a Human around at all, but you won't leave and be can't force you, so each time you and your bag of tools and supplies arrive at his side he tries to accept it and maintain his composure. 

he can't figure out why you smell so strongly of blood, devising it must be your previous wounds or your patient's. You're happy again for a time, and the urges and impulses to hurt you stop, giving you time to return to the happiness and leisure you once enjoyed. He feels comfortable in himself again, and he relaxes just enough to let you close, sleep in a spare bed just a room away and wake up in the morning all within an alarming distance of him in the name of helping the people of this town in their time of need.

you take your patients elsewhere, and head off at dawn every morning, watching as the townspeople slowly improve and the sickness that had hit it began to stave off as you in all of your wisdom and perhaps dumb luck were charming the people back to health with your goofy little jokes and remarks.

you stay with him, the little doctor who ran into him in rather dire circumstances, saw a Vampire right before your eyes and decided you absolutely must investigate it and the body. He was so caught off guard by just the thought that you were standing there in awe staring into his eyes like they were a set of precious ruby jewels that he didn't even think to react, and like a little stray he had fed a scrap of food you followed him home and made it abundantly clear you were not to be trifled with. Like a child you'd stick your fingers in his mouth without warning, and ignore his scoldings not to do that in the name of research as you had already decided you needed to know everything there was to know about this ‘rare condition’ of his.

"I'm heading off tomorrow, this town no longer needs me." your words hit him like a shockwave, even if they make sense. You're a travelling doctor, so you go places you feel need help and find refuge at an inn somewhere, it just so happened you were enjoying a free stay with him. "Urd?"

he blinks, then looks up, "Already? It's only been—"

"For me that's longer than I've stayed anywhere, a few weeks is a lot closer to my welcome and any more than that has me overstaying. It was pure luck that I came across a dire situation." you try to explain it to him in a way someone not a doctor could still grasp, that people start to treat your services like commodities and come to you for the slightest of colds that don't require your assistance. You're too free spirited and curious to be held down for too long.

but the thirst returns, and it claws at his throat more than ever before, now working the opposite way than he recalls as you were doing exactly what he seemed to be wanting. 

you're so helpless fast asleep, and you're right there, like presenting him with a glass of aged wine and expecting him not to drink it when it's the exact bottle he wants so badly, and something about you will never leave him.

"I know you're there." your voice startles him, but he calms himself quickly, "Did you miss me already?"

"…Thirsty." he answers, hesitating and questioning himself before ultimately walking closer. "It came back."

"Then do it. You can sit that close, can't you? Stop making a fuss out of every little thing." 

the more he drinks the more he knows he should stop, with you the little doctor squirming under him in what you called discomfort but never pain. The less you squirm the less you feel pain, the less you squirm the less conscious you are and he knows that much, but every impulse that tells him to stop before he kills you tells him to drink until your blood sweetens with the verge of death drawing closer and your body slowly shutting down. Your squirming turns to a limp compliance perhaps not of your own volition but of a sense that even if you were to fight you'd hurt yourself, or maybe you've just reached the stage Humans start to wish they die.

and so you do, right there in his arms, and your lifeless body refuses to respond to any of his attempts to preserve your life once the regret comes to slap him across the face.

₊˚⊹꒷ ky luc

"Will you read a story for me, Papa?" your little hand passes the book you want up to him, and he pats his lap for you.

the times of the first are gone, though he leaves behind the children he created, and the children he rebirthed. Not all of them were victims, and not all of them completely let go, though he was warned that he shouldn't do what he had thought was such a wonderful idea at the time.

everyone hates their ‘parent’ at some point. He should've listened to that warning at the time, even when he just wasn't ready to let go yet, and while his love for you is frozen in time with him, yours wavers with the effects of being well past the age of maturity and still stuck in the body of a seventeen-year-old. Urd says it's temporary and agrees to try to help you calm down from this fit of rage you've gone into and won't come out of, you think it's forever and act like you'll never love him again at times. You have every right to be holding the things you were against him, he deserves every word you speak to him.

he misses when you were small and precious, your greatest care was the loud banging outside or the tree that scratched at your bedroom window and gave you a fright until you worked up the nerve to go wake your Papa up for help from the monster under the bed. These days you haven't a glance to spare at him, and he knows why—you feel abandoned by him, you miss your Mother, you don't understand why it had to be turned and not one of your siblings, why he had to curse you this way.

he doesn't know what you get up to in the daytime, given that you can wander as far as you please and simply don't care to listen to him. He's heard from one of the younger Vampires you went ‘back home’, not to your real home but to the place where Shikama Dōji once brought you all, and you're getting awfully close to his motives and into his business. He knows even if he worried until his head fell off he could never hope to defy that kind of influence.

you wilfully ignore his every plea to come home and let him fix things, be a better Father, work things out and try to give you the freedom you keep wanting without the need to worry about where you are all the time, and again all he hears is that you went home.

what strikes him more than anything is a letter, not from you but from the very same person who said you were there, and he's told the real reason you never answer is because you never see the letters at Shikama's own request, claiming something about how you were irritated by it and it was causing your hatred to swell and burn. It was for the best that he did not speak to you, and if you felt he was respecting your choices that you might come around quicker.

very soon, you would be leaving to go elsewhere with him, though the letter didn't say where, just that you didn't share the details and didn't intend to.

your hatred for him is one thing, but to possibly never see you or even know where you are in the world is too much to handle, and he finally makes the trip to go see you for himself to beg you to stay. 

you're already gone by the time he gets there, even Urd tells him so.

"Papa? There's a scary noise in my room like a monster under my bed." he will always recall your sweet little voice, the ones that made him so reluctant to let you go at all, "Can you look for me?"

he didn't want you to stay forever, he only wanted for you to keep coming to him when you were scared, to never be afraid that you were alone in the world, and somehow he managed to leave you there under the impression you were alone, and he was refusing to listen to what you wanted until you room it into your own hands and did it anyway. 

though he never could leave you, his dear child, you can leave your Father easily.

₊˚⊹꒷ rígr stafford

a feeling of betrayal, and it's worse than it had been before, now faced with the betrayer who smiles at you so joyously as he always did before, but a new face stares back at you. 

"Have you been well, darling?"

you have been anything but well and you have to swallow the urge not to slap him for saying something so heartless when he knows the answer already. You'd give anything right about now to wipe that smile off his face and stitch his mouth shut so you never have to hear another word out of it, another lie or another word of painful truth. You'd give the world if he never spoke again, even after waiting so many years to hear his voice just one more time.

"Very." is all you can muster, and you both know that's a lie.

"We have plenty of time to catch up now, don't be shy, I want to know where you went." again it would be nice to slap him right about now, but the cage between him and you courtesy of Urd is keeping him safe and you at a distance to avoid feeling the effects it causes.

"You're very glad to be caged up right now." you know he would be, naturally, surrounded by people who watch him and fear his reputation without having met the man a day in their lives, currently watching you bicker at each other like an old married couple, "However will I get to you when entering it could be debilitating to me?"

"Would you?"

"In your dreams."

the scoff that follows says enough, knowing you wouldn't set foot in there even if you were paid to. He seems to ignore it, along with the rest of your attitude and sass as he has been the entire time, perhaps just glad to get you talking even when you would think the last thing he'd want was to talk it out. 

"I'm staying here out of respect for Urd’s work, I could get out."

"Stop deluding yourself. You're lucky to still be moving your mouth." you only want to know when he will be back, because as of now you're not having much fun being the babysitter.

when he does come back however, you will be long gone from this cage to relax and let your guard down somewhat, seeing as you have been forced to remain on high alert since arriving by one circumstance or another. You've dealt with enough of that to last a good generation more.

if Urd could hurry up, that would be nice, and maybe then you'd know peace as he'd have something else from the past to bother. His regard for you is that of feigned interest, like he doesn't mean nor care about the things he says, perhaps because they're not the things he wants to hear at all. The things he wants are far too personal to be spoken in a place of so many strangers.

"Don't talk to him." Lest is at your side, even knowing you won't want to take him seriously, "He's dangerous."

"I know," you say, "it's just a bit of light banter, he's playing too coy to ask a real question anyway."

he bites his tongue at what he wants to say as you wave him off with a dismissive hand, though you can hear he doesn't move, at least in some way sensing it’s not entirely out of irritation with him specifically. Your current mood is very dependent on a certain someone playing ball, which he is clearly starkly against doing as he has his fun scaring those who made stories out of him in the first place.

you think he must've been talking to Lest behind your back as Ky fills the growing silence, and in a sense you wonder if he's trying to ease your response. "You know I heard all of the legends about him, but I never even met him because I was turned in a different region, though I was curious." 

"Oh? You never told me this."

"All the legends I heard, they're all very old. You knew him before, is he really all that powerful?" you bide his curiosity knowing he's as curious as anyone else around you, at least in your mind, the only difference is he thinks he's impervious to harm from him, "He lost to Ferid of all Vampires. I mean seriously?"

even you could tell that was pathetic, or calculated, by Rígr, that is, you know him too well to actually think that he would lose without reason. Ky is young, he doesn't know him the way he used to be. "He is, but right now his actions seem more akin to a little child, throwing a temper tantrum and running away from home until his dear little brother dragged him back to explain himself. That is what your grand plan is, isn't it? To abandon the notion of progress to fixate on the past."

his smile can get your blood boiling, like he’s amusing with himself, a giggling little child. "Is Urd angry with me?"

"Does the grass still grow on a Wednesday?"

"You're starting to sound like our Father, you know?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, for your sake."

"Maybe you should see where Lord Urd is!" as soon as you’re interrupted you can’t help sighing, though you know he’s right. You’re doing yourself no good standing here, and he’s only revelling in how angry he can make you, provoking you more. You heard from Urd himself he was enjoying doing it, but not knowing Ky makes it seem a lot more reasonable to assign him the job of babysitting him—he’d only get mad on Urd’s behalf, but wouldn’t act against his orders.

you find that even your word against Urd’s is useless, even when you argue with him he stands firm in his decision, falling to Rígr’s word and letting him free from the cage he had trapped him in. If only he wasn’t presenting some good ideas right about now you’d be digging a hole to bury him in, and you wouldn’t be letting him within the length of a ten foot pole of you let alone the arm’s reach he stands at.

"I don’t think I will ever forgive you." you manage to admit that much, "I cannot just move past the fact you left me for so long, not like Urd did."

he stops, and he clearly hesitates, "I know you won’t." he says, "I know you hold grudges too well for that."

"It’s an endearing trait."

"I know it is." he half chuckles to himself, though his arm drops back to his side and he makes a face something between disappointment and a solemn knowing look. A part of him knew even when he left that something about your relationship would never be the same, a distance between you he didn’t expect to take so long, but there was a choice he made between your safety and his own selfish desire to take you with him and run off somewhere you could plan your revenge.

it was a lot closer to being his revenge; you never did show an interest in the past. He truly was fixated, though part of that was on the things he would never do with you, and part of it became out of love, even knowing he was sabotaging everything. 

how was he supposed to be sure you were safe with the First roaming free? He could never rest thinking there might be a day you would both be caught up in his schemes again.

so he deemed it a necessary evil, and he left you where he thought you would be safe forever.

[ourmadmusings]

Pointed Lesson (Pt. 3.5)

Words: lots

Type: fluff

Summer: Everyone needs a filler episode, right? 

Warnings: None, really. Injury mentions, death mentioned too, I guess? No real spoilers for The Batman 2022. No mentions of body type or race. 

PART ONE

A sense of humor will lend you more grace than any god can. 

---

It’s a slow dripping that lulls you out of the ichor. Like molasses, it clings to your lashes, gluing them shut against your best efforts. You struggle to unbind your shoulders, your legs, whatever you’re stuck in has you deep and unrelenting. 

You feel the pressure in your skull, first and foremost. You feel the tense draw of the muscles in your neck, you notice the sharp edges in your lungs soon thereafter. 

It’s dragging you away from the ladder that leads up and out from the dark pool, you’re struggling against sudden harsh waves until you hear the familiar heavy footfalls that have lent you safety, it’s closer and closer still, raising you from the dark circles pooling at your waist, just out of reach until you’re struggling against a different kind of pressure. 

The slow dripping turns into a quick pull, the pull into a deep river that pushes you further and further towards another large sea, until the sky cracks and light pours in -- “Hey, hey! Relax, cool it. St-stop-” You know this, you’ve heard it before. Where from?

It’s the hollow and lonely throbbing right under your skull, a hand on your torso, one on your hip, it’s looming, dark and familiar to that of the ichor dragging you down, you have to get it off your body, you have to - “Enough!” It rings out into your cotton-filled head. 

Your eyes shoot open for the first time in what feels like ten lifetimes, it’s heavy on your neck as your head shoots forward, the weight of the pain keeping you down and you reach your right hand up to sink your nails into the source. “-Off me!” You hear your own voice, it sounds ten miles away, it’s not yours speaking, “-fuck off me!” You’re curling around, twisting. The hands are steadfast on your body, stronger than you. Typical. 

Your head turns to the right and you see your table, your scraps and tools, dipped in a dark haze that you know has to be another dream. You follow your own gaze like a ghost standing behind your headboard, your kitchen is dark, too. Everything seems to be waking up around you until you turn over left, dragging your eyes from the feet poking from your blankets and follow the gaze to a gloved hand, it sends another wave of panic over you, thrashing again only to get caught up in webs of familiar-still pain. You’re trailing up the large hands, the forearms, the dark armor seems so close to your mind. 

“I’m trying!” It’s a shout into the air, the thrashing drains you quicker than you’re used to, a dull tensing of your muscles is all you can muster soon enough, “I only have two hands!” 

You’re grasping at one of them, trying to wretch it off your body until something snaps, it’s a sudden flick, a flipped switch. You stall, and you breathe.

You finally go limp in your bed - your bed in your house - “Batty?” Hoarse. Your mouth is suddenly more dry than you’ve ever experienced, like you’ve run ten miles under the summer sun. 

You tear your aching hand from his wrist, you feel your body relax into the mattress as you turn your head to look up, the dark circled eyes surrounded by a familiar pointed head, you sigh and slump. It’s just Batty, you don’t know what you expected, all your friends hide behind masks these days - you stop suddenly at that thought, masks? Your hand flies to your face, your bare hand grazing the hair on your head, your brows, your naked face. You feel a queasy sickness wash over you. 

“What happened, why’re you here?” You can hear the edge to it, dipped in panic raising the hairs on your arms. You’re trying to raise yourself up on your elbows again. You don’t have your mask, you think suddenly to look down, you’re in a t-shirt, you can assume you’d been wrapped in your dingy blankets, none of this was right. You’re fighting to make some sense in your head.

Your mind is moving miles a minute, you don’t realize you’ve hidden your eyes in the crook of an arm, fingers splayed upright in an attempt to ward Batty off. You’re trying to fully sit up again when you feel his hand slink over your shoulder and one around your outstretched wrist so carefully. He’s trying to drag you back to your pillow, but you’ve started twisting to lean away from him, trying to reach under your bed to your locked chest, your mask, your suit. He’s seen you once, you can’t bear the idea of him seeing you again, especially like this, you can’t bear th- “I said relax.” 

It’s spoken with irritation this time, the tips of the words edging on a warning. You relent with an arm still plastered over your eyes. You’re wincing, you realize, tense all over. “Where’s m’mask?” It’s a wet sound coming from your throat, words flimsy, pleading, “my suit? What happened?” 

Batty takes some time to explain the events of the last week, the explosion you caused coming back, the running, then…nothing. You can’t remember his explanation of you curled on the alley ground, hiding pitifully behind a box, you feel your lip curl in disgust. Had you really sunk so far into your own fear to lunge at him, try to escape in vain? It’s a black mass in the back of your head, he explains that the blast must have rattled you, scared you to the core. 

You’d never seen anyone actually…die before, you realize. You’ve seen plenty of dead bodies, sure. You’d seen people on their way out, but you’ve never lingered to see it happen, fled before the consequences settled into your bones. It’s never been your fault, the words are like daggers as they form in your brain. 

“Well,” you start to move your arm down your face, hinging below your eyes, just tipped on your nose and starting to cover your quivering lip, “what did the note say..?” It’s a small and pitiful sound, your voice. It’s smaller than you will it to be, but you’re fighting the bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill out over your arm. “The one stuck to that guy’s suitcase, I mean.”

He sits back in the wooden chair you hadn’t noticed, how long has he been here? “Nothing.” Your brows shoot into your hairline so quickly and then pull together as you mull over his words, “what’d’ya mean, nothing? I saw the envelope.” So you killed someone for nothing. No reason. You feel the room tip on it’s axis, starting up in a violent spinning, he’d died right in front of you for-

The Bat’s voice brings you down, his hand’s on your shoulder, you didn’t even see him move. “It was a copycat, or maybe he’s trying to throw us off his trail, but we’re pretty certain it was a fluke.” His hand comes back to him, they’ve found themselves on his knees, he’s leaning forward slightly, watching you like a hawk, it’s making your skin crawl. 

“So what now?” You’ve tried to school your expression as best as you can, your arm dropping limp to your side. “What next?” 

He stares you down, assessing you, scrutinizing you as he’s so fond of doing these days. “Nothing is next for you. You’re on bed rest until I say otherwise.” He goes to stand up, pushing his weight into his palms and leaning forward as he does so. “Your shoulder was gross.” He says it so plainly, in such a mundane way, so unlike the Bat you’ve known that it forces some heat to your cheeks, you feel an indignant need to defend yourself. “What does that mean?” Your brows draw inward. 

“It means it was infected and gross. The infection is still in your system, you can’t do anything.” He says it as he shuffles the chair back to your table and then stops, his spine straightening out suddenly, as if he’d been caught by someone. “Sorry-” it’s hushed and strained “-- I don’t - I just mean you, we - need...some time...to,” he’s not facing you, a hand is suddenly rubbing into his neck and you feel an embarrassed smile on your lips, “further assess the situation.” He’s cleared his throat to end his sentence. 

You figure you’re the situation he needs to assess. 

You don’t say anything as he finds his way to your fire escape, you’re bone tired. “There’s pills on the table, take the red ones twice a day for the rest of the week with some food,” he sounds like he’s repeating instructions, “it’s uh-” he turns to you, half-out the window with eyes looking anywhere but into yours, “it’s Wednesday, so...y’know.” It’s quick and light, not the usual drawl he has, another small glimpse into what’s tucked behind that thick leather mask. It shocks you a little, you turn over and see a few bottles, they all have sticky-notes on them with detailed instructions written in neat penmanship, along with a large glass of water. He’s gone before you look back over.

You fall back into your stiff bed, throwing an arm over your eyes again, it’s dark out. 

You grab one of the red pills labeled with nightly instructions and pop it in your mouth, sipping a bit of water, you toss your head back and swallow. You notice the sling keeping your left arm in place and wonder who had tied it up. Who had changed you, what happened to your suit? Your mind is running ahead of you, no pun intended, as you’re leaning back, the exhaustion creeps back into bed with you, it’s curled into your lap like an old, fat cat. 

You fall asleep to the sound of heavy footfalls on your fire escape.

a/n: the last installment was a little to intense to leave that way, don’t you think? Well, I think it would be fun to see all of this from our bat’s point of view next time, maybe a quick glimpse into his evil little emo mind, no? We’ll see. 

[jackwolfes]

would love to request a someone is caught in the rain and then they catch a cold and fluff ensues wesper fic!!!!! maybe they have v different understandings of what you’re supposed to do for a cold haha

ahh! im not sure how perfectly this fits your prompt but I hope you enjoy!! also unrelated I have written something similar but…. horny….

✨🌸💛💖

Wylan Van Eck does not like being sick.

He doesn’t like the way his head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton. He doesn’t like the unending ache in his throat. He doesn’t like the constant sniffling, sneezing, shivering, shaking. He doesn’t like feeling so damn weak and tired and cold but hot but cold no matter what time of day it is.

Here he is, though.

The noise he makes isn’t really anything. It’s possibly caught between a whine and a complaint, although — and this, this is the worst part — he hasn’t been able to speak louder than a hoarse whisper since he woke up. He whines anyway, as best as he can. It’s fruitless, because he’s tucked up in bed alone, in this room alone. If he got out of bed and went to the door he could probably flag down his attendant to ring for some tea, but he can’t muster up the energy to do that.

He doesn’t know where Jesper is.

There’s conscious effort in not letting himself be sad at that fact. Jesper is busy, and Saints only know that Wylan can’t work right now. He could be anywhere, but is probably picking up the slack Wylan has left, cleaning up the mess he’s making because he’d thought he could walk home in the rain and end up fine. He’s not fine. He’s very cold, and very sniffly, and very sad.

Ghezen, his head hurts.

But his throat is killing him, ache bad enough that he isn’t sure he’d be able to even get the words out to ask for tea if he did manage to find anyone.

It takes more than a bit of effort for him to push himself upright, duvet sloughing off his chest like water. He shivers. Under the blanket he’d been too warm, but now that it’s gone he’s freezing cold.

Ugh.

His steps are shaky when he takes them, moving towards the door as fast as he’s able. It’s not fast. Wylan tightens his hands in the blanket he’d draped over his shoulders, tugging it closer around himself.

The door opening as he reaches for the doorknob nearly sends him off his feet. It sets him on a coughing fit too, head swimming like a wobbly mould of sweet gelatine.

“Saints,” he hears, vaguely, a bit like a startled gasp. There’s a laugh tacked onto it. “What are you doing out of bed?”

When the fog cast over his brain clears, it’s to the sight of Jesper grinning down at him with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Wylan opens and shuts his mouth. All he wants, suddenly, is to be drawn close and hugged and held. It’s all he needs. It’s the only thing that will settle him when everything feels so bad.

“I—“ His voice croaks, and he frowns. He can’t even get the words out, because his throat still hurts that bad. He’s shivering again, head swimming, and—

“Wylan,” Jesper murmurs, soft and gentle. There’s sympathy in his eyes, taking in the imminent flush tears in Wylan’s eyes. His palm is cold when it comes up to cup his cheek — or his own face is burning, and that’s much more likely.

All he wants is to be held, but that’s what he gets.

Jespers arms around him are a steadying weight, holding him upright but encouraging him to settle into the firm press of Jesper’s chest. Wylan’s breath is shuddering when he breathes in deep, and it makes him cough again, but the soothing noises Jesper leaves whispered against the top of his sweat-soaked hair calm him again.

“Were you after tea?” Jesper murmurs. Wylan nods. He feels Jesper sigh beneath him. “I already called for some, so it should be along soon.” Wylan sniffles. Oh, Ghezen, he’s going to sob with how safe and adored that makes him feel. He suddenly doesn’t care about the fact he’d been left alone, because— well, it’s silly to think he’d ever be alone for long.

When Jesper sighs again, he can tell that the fact he’s on the verge of tears has become obvious.

“Let’s get you back into bed,” Jesper murmurs.

He wraps an arm around Wylan’s waist to lead him back to their bed. Wylan stubbornly peels off his sleep shirt before Jesper makes him get into bed, wrinkling his nose up with the way it’s damp with his own sweat. He shivers when his bare chest is exposed to the air, but the breath of fresh air makes him feel a little bit less horrible. The soft fabric of Jesper’s cardigan he's handed, though— that actually makes him feel good. Saints know he needs that.

He crawls beneath their quilted blanket once he’s in new pyjama pants, socks left in a pile at the foot of the bed. He’s too tired to care. Jesper helps him into bed, tucking him up tight and kissing his forehead. It’s reminiscent of the other night, she. Wylan had come home sopping wet with rain, shivering and soaked to the bone with the cold. Jesper had laughed, not cruelly, and hugged him close with a towel around his damp shoulders. It had been wonderfully comforting, being held and tucked up with blankets — although what good had it done? He’s still sick, now, and miserable.

It doesn’t matter, Wylan supposes. He’s being cared for now.

He sinks back against the pillows, freshly fluffed now that Jesper has returned. Jesper joins him, never more than a few inches away. He encourages Wylan to rest his weight against his chest, and Wylan goes eagerly. Oh, it’s a comfort just to feel him breathe.

“Where’d you go?” Wylan finally croaks. When he looks up, Jesper blinks, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to piece together what Wylan said — unable to parse it out with the way he’s mostly lost his voice. Saints, how pathetic.

“Oh,” Jesper finally says. He stretches just far enough that Wylan’s head ends up dislodged from his makeshift pillow, and he grumbles. But then Jesper is back, and warm and good, and Wylan finds himself hard pressed to complain. “Got you some things.”

Then Wylan is presented with a pile of— well, things. Bottles that look like medicinal cough syrups, fresh citrus fruit, juices, small candies that smell strongly of menthol and mint. But the largest thing, the most noticeable thing, there— it’s the soft cake from the little bakery all the way in the south of the Barrel that Wylan adores. The fluffy pink ones, with cream and fresh berries, not dry enough to hurt his throat but special enough to make his day. Wylan feels his eyes sting. His throat hurts too much to speak, but he wants to ask— so much. You went all the way there just to get these? For me? But he sniffles again, and looks up to see Jesper smile down at him with fondness abound.

“There’s soup starting in the kitchen, too,” is what Jesper responds with, a murmuring whisper. He kisses Wylan’s forehead yet again, hand already running gently over his back just to comfort him. “Just sleep, now, and I’ll wake you when it’s ready.”

Wylan’s already nodding, settling back down against his weight with a gentle ease. There’s no issue doing it, and sleep is already starting to come easy to him. He sinks into it, and down onto Jesper, and feels safe and loved and treasured.

Sleep passes over him with Jesper humming gentle words. It comes without issue, and a smile on his face. He feels loved. He feels good. He feels— not great, yet, but better. That’s more than enough.

[pinkhwaseong]

Hi bestie! Idk if you’re still taking requests but when you have time can you write a dreamcatcher reacting to getting caught by the other members making out? or simply kissing if you’re umcomfy with that

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I am so sorry that it took so long to post! I really enjoyed writing this! Some may be longer than the others, I got carried away with some.😅 I hope you enjoy reading it and please let me know if you would like anything else!💕💕💕

JiU(민지): The two of you had finally gotten time to yourselves with no members, no obligations, and no stress. It had been some time since you and Minji had gotten to be as close as you are. At this moment, your bodies pressed together as her breath fans over your face as she chuckles lightly at the thought of finally being able to show you how much she loves you. Cupping your face, she peppers kisses all over your face, stopping at your lips. Her lips were soft, as they danced in unison with yours. The two of you are in such euphoria. The sheer bliss of her warm hands running across the skin of your cheek, the smell of her sweet perfume tickling your nose, and the taste of her strawberry lip gloss that she had bought specifically because you liked the flavor. It was all almost too good to be true. And it was…

Just as Minji was about to lift your shirt over your head, Gahyeon and Yoohyeon burst through the closed door. Immediately their loud voices indicated they were arguing about something, but when it turned out that they were arguing about whether the infamous dress was black and blue or white and gold. JiU laughed, ushering them outside of the door slowly as they proceeded to banter with themselves. As soon as both of them were outside, she closed the door, locking it behind her. Turning around, a giant smile plastered on her face she says, “Where were we?”

SuA(보라): You and Bora had known better than to have any PDA around the other girls unless you wanted unrelenting teasing. That being said, one thing most definitely leads to another, first a few light pecks while watching a movie on the couch and then full-blown making out. The space between the two of you closed as SuA pushed you onto your back, straddling you. Everything was so intense. It was as if the world around you didn’t exist and it was just you, Bora, and the kissing noises coming from behind the couch…

Bora’s head shot up, peeking her head behind the couch. On the floor behind the couch, Dami, Yoohyeon, and Siyeon cupped their hands around their mouths to cause the kissing noises to be louder. Yoohyeon made eye contact with SuA and burst out laughing, running away before getting a flick on the head. JiU came in, followed by Handong as the two of them chuckled lightly, minding their business as they went to their rooms. Bora looked at you with a wry smile plastered on her face. Pinching her cheeks, you laugh at her blushing face, kissing her cheek before returning to the movie.

Siyeon(시연): More often than not, you and Siyeon would never do anything promiscuous in the dorm on account of the other members always barging around. However, today Siyeon had informed you that JiU was going to be practicing all day to make up for the sick day she took the day before. So when Siyeon expressed that she had a surprise for you and that she needed you to come to the dorm, you did not hesitate. After arriving, Siyeon pulls you into her room, closing the door before handing you a box of chocolate with a small rose attached. Jumping with joy the two of you began to kiss, moving closer to the bed as Siyeon moved you to straddle her lap.

The intense and alluring atmosphere was interrupted by JiU bursting through the room, rummaging through the closet and under her bed. You sit, still straddling Siyeon's lap as you watch her eyes track JiU around the room. A small smirk forms on her lips as you hear JiU whisper, “Oh, I'm sorry!” She hurried out of the room, coming back in quickly to get her phone. Siyeon’s eyes land on you, causing you to laugh as she cups your cheeks, planning to finish what she had started.

Handong(한동): It was 9 in the morning. The sunshine peeked from the window, crossing over your eyes as the warm rays woke you up gently. Looking over you see Handong still asleep. She looked so peaceful, ethereal even. You couldn’t help but kiss her. As you lean back on your elbows, a smile came across her face. She opened her eyes, pulling you in for another kiss. She hummed lightly, loving the thought of waking up to you every morning. The two of you were simply enjoying each other's presence and sharing the same space. The way that your limbs tangle together haphazardly, made you feel closer than ever.

It was in this moment of pure bliss that Gahyeon rushed through the door screaming about someone drinking all of her soda. Handong immediately closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. Gahyeon paced back and forth, red in the face as she continued to fume about how she was going to watch a movie and drink them. Picking up that Handong was pretending to sleep to get Gahyeon to leave, you wave to capture her attention, pointing down at Handong’s “sleeping” figure. Gahyeon’s yelling soon turns into a whisper as she says, “Oh… I’ll be off then.” Handong opens her eyes smiling as you ask, “Was it you?”

“I didn’t know they were her’s!”

Yoohyeon(유현): Admittedly, having a little rendezvous with Yoo in the only bathroom in the entire dorm was probably not the best of ideas. Not only were there six other members living there but also the sheer fact that the two of you had lost track of time. With you sitting on the sink counter and Yoo between your legs as both of your lips mindlessly intertwine. Yoo’s hands gently run over your exposed skin and your hands tangle in her soft hair, pulling ever so slightly.

It was all so perfect. Well, until the door swung open, hitting Yoohyeon in the elbow. Yoo let out a small yelp, rubbing her elbow to soothe the pain. SuA peaked her head from behind the door, giving you a small smile before pushing Yoo out of the way. She barged in, whining for the two of you to leave, before unbuttoning her pants. The two of you quickly cover your eyes. Yoo helps you down, pulling you out of the bathroom whilst closing the door behind her. Once the door clicked closed, you removed your hand, locking eyes with Yoo. The two of you giggle as Yoo pulls you towards the bedroom.

Dami(유빈): It had been the perfect date night. There was some drinking and a lot of romance. All night, Dami’s hands had been wrapped around your waist, not wanting to lose you for a single moment. It had been hard for Yubin whilst promotions were going on. The busy schedules and fan meet and greets often left her exhausted socially and emotionally. However, she came up with the idea that you and her would spend time together once promotions had ended and they had a small break. All week the two of you had been joined hand and hand. The beach was the first destination and then a farm. Tonight was the last night Yubin would have off and she wanted to spend it completely with you.

Exiting the small, something club, the two of you walk back to her dorm. Upon arriving, Dami whines pulling you closer to her chest while peppering kisses on your cheek. Her hands clasp around the small of your back as she stares down at your lips. “I’m going to miss this…” she says, trailing off. With that you give her a soft peck on the lip, lingering for a bit before breaking away and saying, “I promise to call you whenever you’re free. And you can tell me about your day.” Yubin cups your cheek with her left hand, softly messaging the skin. As she was about to lean in, Siyeon shouts from the entrance of the building, “Do you guys want to watch me beat Yoohyeon in League?”

Gahyeon(가현): It had been a long day at the studio, and Gahyeon was getting frustrated. Countless times she had heard “One more time.” After noticing that Gahyeon was having such a hard time getting in rhythm with the song, JiU suggested that everyone take a break. Gahyeon took the time to ask you to come to visit her at the studio and since you were close you had no problem doing so. The moment you arrived you were immediately embraced by Gahyeon. “What happened, Hyeonnie?” you asked. Gahyeon sighed, looking at you while saying, “I couldn’t get it right. I kept messing up. I…”

You kiss her, feeling her body immediately relax in your arms. She leaned further into the kiss, bringing her right hand to the back of your neck, while her left massaged the sides of your waist. All of her worry and self-doubt left her body, and she knew that she could do it. Not long after, the click of the door opened and a JiU warily walked through. Gahyeon held your hand and asked excitedly, “Can I try again?”

[deluxewhump]

Max and Vampire Pet 4- accidental whump (silver)

cw: vampire whump, pet whump, nonhuman whumpee, accidental whump, well-meaning caretaker, hurt/comfort, self blame, burns, begging, misunderstandings, it as a pronoun intermittently

****

It was ten PM on a Saturday, and he had cancelled vague plans to meet Simon and Eddie downtown. The temperature had dropped after dark, and the roads were slick. He made himself a drink and turned the heat up instead, talked to Stella on the phone. They’d spoken  more in the last week than they had in three years. It was almost like old times— except back then they hadn’t been co-researching vampires.

Speaking of vampires, his very own vampiric specimen had started sleeping more and more during the day. He fought it at first, dragging himself out of bed at seven AM and looking absolutely miserable until Max sent him back upstairs to sleep.

Some evenings the boy would wake up at dusk and come downstairs, hair mussed with sleep. Other times Max wouldn’t see him at all, and when he went up to bed at eleven on weeknights, the door to the spare bedroom was still shut.

He could be fairly sure he was eating because he could keep inventory of the blood. He always left a generous portion on the table before he went up to bed. In the morning it was gone, the empty bag placed neatly in the kitchen trash.

He was alternating between half-watching an unrelated documentary and reading about a Virginia case where poachers had stolen someone’s vampire and sold it, horribly damaged, at auction. Absurdly, the original owner was later unable to repurchase their stolen vamp without the consent of the new buyer.

He was trying to find a similar legal precedent in Maryland when the door of the study creaked on its old hinges. He glanced up just in time to see a shadow jump away from the door, as if it’d been caught. 

“Hey,” Max called fondly. “Good morning.”

Sheepishly, the vampire reappeared, pressing his forehead to the door, showing half his face. 

He’d been looking so much better lately, and had even shown something like playfulness a time or two. But tonight, he looked pale and drawn.

“Are you okay? C’mere.”

He hesitated, but opened the door just enough to slip in sideways before closing it behind him. He stood at the entrance of the study, eyes roving quickly over the tall, cramped bookcases, the matching chairs facing the dormant fireplace. Max remembered coming in this room when he was younger, when his father was working and he was tasked with bringing him up a drink or relaying a message from his mother. It still smelled the same, like books and old house, like heat rising through ornate vents in the floor.

“Do you feel alright?”

The boy didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and traced his sock over a knot in the hardwood. His fingers were gripped tight to the long sleeves of his thermal shirt. Even so, Max could see they were shaking. 

“Are you sick? Closer, please.” He gestured for him and he obeyed, stopping at the side of the desk. Max took his cold wrist and tugged him closer, so he was standing in front of him. His eyes were hollow and haunted, and did not seem to want to look at him directly. 

“What’s wrong?” Max asked as gently as he could. He went over the basic necessities in his head— a small dark place to sleep, quality food, clothing, warm baths… He couldn’t think of anything he had overlooked. 

“I—”

Max raised his eyebrows, tried to duck into the creature’s line of vision to make eye contact. To his dismay, its chin dimpled and its lip wavered. It looked like it might cry. 

“I can’t—” he choked back a sob, shoulders caving forward. “Please. Just o-one night. I’ll be stronger soon. I’ll get stronger… and then I can— I’ll do more. Please, please.” 

“Woah,” Max braced him by the shoulders. “What? I don’t—”

He seemed to cave in on himself, hiding his face. “Please,” he begged from behind his hands. He dropped to his knees with a thud that made Max wince.

“Please, Sir,” he  sobbed, as if hiding from a blow. “Just an— an hour, I promise."

“An hour what?” he asked, helpless. “An hour of what? Can you look at me? I’m not— hey, I’m not gonna hit you.” He pulled the boy’s hands away from his face.

He looked up at his master, open and desperate, with tear tracks wetting his cheeks. He tried to control his expression long enough to make puppy-dog eyes at him. To be cute. Like when he’d asked for more blood boxes after finishing his first. 

It was horrible to watch, how hard he was trying and how it kept slipping as another sob shook him, as more tears came. 

Max pushed his chair back a foot, leaned forward and took the vampire’s face in his hands. “Shhh,” he soothed, thumbing at his tears. “It’s alright now. I hear you, little sharptooth. Whatever you need. I’m listening.”

“Hurts,” he whispered, wounded. 

Max nodded to show he understood, still holding his face. “What hurts? Tell me, so I can help you.”

The pain in his eyes was clouded by confusion, as if he didn’t understand why Max didn’t already know. He pulled down the collar of his shirt and lifted out a pendant so it spun slowly between them. 

“What the hell are you doing with that?” he asked. Too harshly- judging by the look on the vampire’s face. 

Max held the pendant in his hand, flipped it over. It was heavy, untarnished even left in the bottom of a drawer for fifteen years.

At a glance he thought it was monogrammed with an ornate script, like the old silverware his mother kept. Now it occurred to him the markings were probably something else entirely. It most certainly was pure silver— one of the many odd items collected by his father over the years.

The silver had burned the vampire. He could see where an ugly mark disappeared beneath his shirt collar, angry red and pink— seeping like an acid burn. 

Max cursed under his breath, reached behind the his neck to undo the clasp. It fell away from him and he sobbed in relief, whole body shaking. 

“Why were you wearing that?” he asked, setting it to the side near his laptop. He’d found it the other day in an old desk and meant to look up the inscription on it, but must’ve gotten sidetracked and set it down. 

“It was on the table when I woke up,” the vampire whispered, frightened. “Next to my..." he lowered his voice. "N-next to the food you left me. I thought you wanted me to wear it. Like… like a silver collar... because I'm... I'm new.”

“What’s a silver collar? Why would I ever make you wear silver?” 

The vampire only stared at him, wide-eyed. Perhaps it had been an unfair question. Why wouldn’t he? If he had been made to wear it before by his previous captors, why would he not interpret it being left next to his food as a subtle cue? 

“Is it still hurting you?”

“No,” he whispered, touching where the chain had lain around his throat. Max seriously doubted it didn’t still hurt like hell, but he guessed the poor thing was just grateful. The wind blew hard against the north side of the house and the lights flickered. The vampire flinched, looked to the window.

“It’s just the storm,” Max told him. “It knocks the power out sometimes up here. But we’ve got the genny if it goes out and stays out. A generator, that is. Get off the floor, please. C’mon. There you go.”

He hauled the boy off his knees, attempting to get him to stand again. Instead he climbed into Max’s lap, making himself as small as possible, tucking his long legs to the side and wrapping his arms around Max’s neck, equal parts apology and request for some of the softness Max had shown him before.

He hadn’t done anything like this in days— not since the truck after he got his fangs filed down. He hadn't been playful or affectionate, and while Max had not thought much of it at the time he now realized it was most likely because he was in pain. Because he thought he was supposed to be. That he was being punished, or kept under watch— that his new master was just like the ones before. That he wanted him to suffer.

And all he’d asked for was a reprieve. A night. An hour. He wrapped the vampire in his arms. He was still a slight little thing, and he could not believe the strength with which he'd bitten him and held on, that the time in the tub.

“I forgot I left that thing on the table,” he said softly, next to the vampire’s ear. Slowly, he rubbed circles over his back. “I never meant for you to put it on. You gotta believe me on that, little one. I never wanted you to be hurt. To be in pain.”

There was no answer, only the feeling of the vampire’s weight against him, tucked in close, his soft, shallow breaths lengthening out as the pain died down.

“Why would anybody want to hurt you?” 

“Because I’m wicked,” he said with resigned conviction.

The wind howled and again the lights flickered. Max had not expected an answer.

“I don’t think you’re wicked. I think that’s just what some very wicked people told you. And that word is very dramatic. Very Salem. Is that the word they used, seriously?”

The lights shivered again, and this time went out. The vampire whimpered as an eerie darkness settled over the house, still and complete.

“It’s okay. Look.” He reached down and fished through his desk drawer to find the LED flashlight rattling around the bottom. He set it on the desk, giving the study a lopsided blue glow.

“And here I thought you liked the dark.” Max scritched the creature's favorite spot, just behind his ear. “It’s just a tree down somewhere. You’re safe.”

"Thank you."

"For getting a flashlight out?"

"...For taking it off of me."

Max closed his eyes. He hated the thought that he had been slowly, steadily burned by that stupid thing, all the while thinking it was something Max wanted. It was one step forward, two steps back.

As if on cue, the lights returned. His laptop brightened, connected to the charger again.

He wondered how bad the burn was, but ultimately didn't have the heart to tell the vampire to get up. Eventually, he clicked play on the documentary he’d been watching, continuing it with his pet vampire in his arms, softly petting his hair. He cringed at the thought of admitting this one to Stella. He couldn’t help but want her to think of him as competent, that she’d been right to call him in the first place. 

He found his eyes drifting from the computer screen to the offending necklace, so innocuous there on his desk. He needed to find the rest of the trinkets he remembered his father collecting over the years. If memory served, it wasn’t just this one that was crafted with the intent of harming preternatural creatures like the vampire he was holding. 

***

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