#but you know what i'm not? hungry! or dehydrated!

[darkshrimpemotions]

And another thing! If you have any issues that make it hard to get out of bed--depression, chronic pain, anything--one of the nicest things you can do for yourself when you're feeling okay is start to keep a bottle of water and some kind of non-perishable easy-to-consume snack by your bed for that day when you wake up and can't move. You don't deserve hunger pangs and headaches! You do deserve to be fed and hydrated!

And if you've dealt with these issues for years this is old news to you, but it bears repeating for anyone newly dealing with these issues. Because it took me so long. SO LONG. To stop expecting to care for myself exactly the way I did before I was sick. And to stop shaming and punishing and needlessly hurting myself for it.

[luveline]

if you’re taking joel requests here’s one :3

touch-starved!joel who isn’t aware he’s touch starved but then extremely affectionate reader comes along and just always! touches! him! loving & intentional touches, casual touches—all of it drives him wild and he loves it!!

thank you!! I hope this is okay! Touch-starved Joel who wants you but doesn't know how to want you w/ mutual pining ♥︎ fem!reader 2k

Joel wishes you wouldn't work the same shifts as him. Wishes you didn't have to work any shifts at all, wishes you didn't know this life, but you do. He wishes you wouldn't pick all the high-paying, devastating jobs that he does, wishes you didn't insist on keeping him company. And above all, he wishes you wouldn't touch him, because he can't handle the way that he feels when you do. 

Sharing shifts turns to seeing one another outside of the old meat market by accident. In turn, that becomes purposeful. Before he really knows it, you're comfortable enough to come by his apartment and you'll wait there even when he isn't home just to see him. Precious hours of your life spent curled in on yourself at his door. 

Joel nudges your sleeping body with his shoe and then feels like the world's biggest asshole. He sighs, kneeling down despite his aching back, and shakes your shoulder. He notices how soft your jaw looks when you sleep and has to look away, lest he think about it too much now, and remember it later. You have this habit of chasing him into bed when you're not there. 

Your hand wakes before your eyes do, and you curl your fingers around his wrist, half on his sleeve and half on his skin. Where you connect hums with heat. 

"Why are you out here?" He changes his prerogative, feeling as though chastisement is more important. "You have no sense of danger, even now. Get up." 

He doesn't speak without fondness. You'd have to look hard to find it, but it's undoubtedly there.

His tone has you awake and alert quickly, your gaze on his face. "I do," you say croakily, letting him pull you into a standing position. 

"Then what are you doing out here?" 

"I can't call first… You look tired." 

"I am. I'm not staying up." He pulls his wrist from your lingering grasp. "Should've called."

"You act like you don't like me," you say without inflection, following him in through the door and closing it softly behind you. 

He drops his jacket over the back of the couch and scrubs his face with both hands. His back aches from standing and heaving all day, his arms tight with a cramping tension. 

If he were younger he'd turn around and wrap you up in his arms. He'd tell you what he really thinks of you, your head hooked in the crook of his arm, his free hand roaming lazily over your back. His pinky finger would run along the line of your jeans playfully, and maybe you'd laugh. You don't laugh as much as you should. 

"Are you hungry?" he asks. 

"No, Joel."

You'd lie even if you were. 

He moves into the kitchen, makes himself a small glass of water, and leans against the counter. He tries not to drink it like a total pig knowing you're watching, but he's dehydrated and cotton-mouthed. 

The window paints you in a weak light, like iced tea. You pick over his things and arrange yourself on the couch like a tired house cat, pulling your legs up and rubbing your cheek against the backrest. Shoulders to the arm, you're almost lying down. He could superimpose you into his sheets, imagining how you might look in bed, not naked or waiting or anything so salacious, just how you’d look getting ready to sleep. He wonders if you wear pyjamas, figures you likely sleep dressed as you are now in your shirt and jeans. Maybe you swap denim for sweatpants, maybe you don’t. Maybe you peel your shirt off, maybe your bra. He entertains a life where he gets to see it and finds it painful as wrapping his hand around a hot poker, because that life is alarmingly close to this one, if he were to take one small leap.

“Where were you today?” he asks.

He sees a flicker of humour flit across your face. He knows it as one of your tells — you'd thought about bending the truth.

"You don’t have to worry, I’m just… rundown. Felt sicker than usual, so I stayed home." 

It's automatic for him to give you a once over as he would with anybody who feels under the weather. You haven't been unlike yourself, you aren't sweating or irritable. You're fine. You’re more than fine.

You have a strange inability to look after yourself. He believes in positive (and negative) reinforcement. 

"Good girl," he says. 

You smile at your hands, picking at nails he knows are scrubbed raw and clean as he crosses the room to sit with you on the couch. You're quick to push your legs over his lap, your jeans riding up until the rarely-seen skin of your ankles peak out. 

"I had an incredible headache," you continue. "And I felt like the blood was rushing in my ears when I stood up but I wasn’t dizzy.”

You touch him and it's like all his agitation starts to numb itself. The weight of your legs has him forgetting his aching back and his sore arms. He stares at his closed fist by your foot, willing himself to touch you; all he wants to do is grab your leg, feel the dough and softness of it under his palm. You sit up a touch to brush a longer piece of hair sticking out behind his neck. 

He pretends you aren't moving at all. 

"Do you feel better now?" he asks. 

Your knuckle brushes under his jaw. He feels the short hairs of his beard catching. 

"I feel fine," you say. "How are you feeling?" 

He turns to face you head on. He’s not going to answer your question. You already know he won’t, but you've asked anyway. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“You really do look tired,” you say softly, concern knitting your brows together. He thinks it’s your most devastating look yet. “I don’t wanna keep you up, Joel, I’ll go home. You can get some real rest.”

He almost says Hey, I don’t want you to leave yet, and you’re already standing up. You look more sorry than you should, believing that you're a burden on him when you aren’t — you're a lightness. You drain the levy, and he can’t see himself getting any rest at all if you leave. 

You’re saving him the awkwardness, climbing off of his couch and out of his lap to track down your shoes. “And, you know, you could shower,” you say, trying to infuse some life back into the room, “I know the cold water bites but we all gotta do it.”

He stands up too fast and feels an absence of noise. No blood rushing in his ears, no beating heart. He’s too tired, in every sense of the word, to ask for what he wants. He can’t ask you to stay. 

You lean down to hook your finger into the back of your sneaker and stop at his expression. You stand a little taller. Whatever vulnerability he sees in you now, your short black socks against the floor, your sweet-eyed, tentative smile, he suspects he’d find it doubled in the mirror. 

“Joel, I…”

He can’t ask you. 

But that doesn't mean you can't ask him. 

"Do you think I could stay, after all? To sleep. Just to sleep," you say. Your voice is quiet, like you're trying to spare yourself some dignity if you need to take it back. 

He thinks about it. You, in his bed. You, sleeping as you had been in his hallway, your lashes skimming the delicate skin under your eyes, your neck craned in. You, with your hands under your cheek, your sluggish breathing, your heart capering only a handful of inches from his. 

A beat. "You kick in your sleep?" he asks, cotton-mouth returned.

"No," you say. You laugh through it, making the word so thick it's almost sticky. Honey in sound. 

It solidifies what he's said yes to. He doesn't know how to sleep next to you. He barely knows how to talk to you, and doesn't try as he leads you into his bedroom. Thankfully, you spare him. He knows you aren't the most confident person on the planet, and that each bold move you make is for his benefit. He tries to be unflinching in return, kicking out of his shoes and throwing back the blankets to lie flat on the sheets. You settle in next to him with little ceremony.

You keep your legs hiked up at first, your heels digging into the mattress near his knees. You turn your face to his, and he turns his face to yours. He can see your every wrinkle and line this close. You must be seeing his. 

"You got lucky with the neighbour lottery, huh?" you say, not quite whispering. "It's silent." 

He doesn't want you to stop talking, but he can't help himself. "Almost," he says wryly.

You know him well enough to smile. "I guess you don't need the quiet," —you turn carefully onto your side, letting the weight of your knees rest on his thigh— "'cause you work all day every day." 

The opposite. The shit he sees on shift is enough to give anybody insomnia. 

"I'm the bad neighbour." 

"Oh, right, your radio." The back of your hand touches his arm. The slightest of touches but enough to make him realise how much he wants it. He can't remember the last time somebody touched him who wasn't you, not for years now. It's an amicable casualness he can't explain away. He wants it worse than a hydro.

"I might, uh, might cling a little, in my sleep. You can push me away, swears. Even if you gotta really fight me on it." You close your eyes, burrowing your face into one of his flat pillows. Your knuckles jump up his arm as you get comfortable. "Jus' shove me." 

He closes his eyes. The dark of his eyelids is usually a torment, but with you this close it lulls him quickly and without finesse. "I'm not gonna shove you," he says while he still can. 

He's on the precipice of sleep when your hand slides up his bicep. You feel along the soft ridging of his muscles until your fingers slot between his arm and his chest, and your nose is kissing his shoulder. It's as if the moonlight has heat and it's bearing down on him through the dirty windows as every stressed ligament, every tensed tissue in his sore body finally gives in to rest.

When he wakes, he's missed his morning shift start. You're clinging to him like you said you would, harder than he'd think possible considering your unconsciousness, with your lips pressed to his shoulder. He thinks it might leave a bruise. 

He dips his face toward yours until the tip of his nose nudges your forehead and goes back to sleep.

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE WINTER KEEP (2/2)

Summary: You have fled the Red Keep, the Greens and Alicent's poison. It is time to play your hand and herald your mother's ascension on a larger scale. You will fly to Winterfell, treat with the Lord Cregan Stark and await your brother. You are weak and a girl, no longer. You are a dragon ready to spill blood to ensure your promises are kept.

[Part 2 to The Highest Tower]

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader 

Word Count: 5631

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd, pretty sure I'm missing something...

Masterlist

Laesuvion had taken to the skies through a hole in the dragon pit. Swift and lethal and stealthy as a white dragon against dark clouds could be. Come morning the whole of Kings Landing would know that you had fled. Come morning the usurper King and his council of snakes would be plotting your demise. You would need every advantage, every inch of distance you could gain before they found the wherewithal to send men after you. The Queen could protect you no longer, your time as her ward had passed. As Laesuvion crested the skies above the Red Keep, and you urged him north, you left just as you had arrived all those years ago. Rhaenyra’s only daughter. Her greatest supporter. Her most loyal weapon.

It took some days to fly north, you rested only once. On the second night of flying, setting down in the swamplands just beyond Greywater Watch. You swaddled yourself in your flying cloak and huddled in a hollow tree as Laesuvion hunted. Sleep came in fitful bursts, each gust of wind and animal sound convincing you that despite your head start from having flown through night and day and night again, the king's loyal men had somehow found you. You awoke around dawn to find Laesuvion’s bulk curved around your tree, his breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep. You crept toward his front claws and the charred mass caged there.

Your first food in some hours, since the day prior when you had polished off the meagre supplies you had smuggled out of the Keep. You tore charred clumps from what might have once been a deer or livestock from a nearby farm. You set these aside in case Laesuvion woke hungry, as you shredded his offering until– There, protected by the cocoon of hardened char, well-cooked meat. You gorged yourself.

You took to the skies an hour later, dehydration your greatest enemy so close to the searing sun. You wrapped your cloak around you, tied yourself firmly to the saddle and tried desperately to catch another snatch of rest. Through that morning, that evening and night, Laesuvion tore through the skies of Westeros.

You landed in the Northlands on the third dawn of your travels. The south gate of Winterfell rose to greet you, a small host of men waiting under its shelf. Dehydrated, exhausted, terrified, you could have wept with joy.

“Holt!” You startled. It was a woman.

“I mean no harm.” You dismounted Laesuvion carefully, moving purposefully to disguise your limb's feeble shakes. At eye level, though separated by a good fifty yards you repeated, “I mean you no harm.”

“Your dragon?” The woman demanded.

The men shifted nervously as Laesuvion gave a chest-deep rumbling purr. “Merely glad to have found our destination.”

“Come forward.”

“To whom do I speak?” You inched forward, Laesuvion nosing at your back.

“Sara Snow.” Up close you found Sara Snow to be very beautiful. With ebony hair twisted in intricate braids and eyelashes so long they caught snowflakes. A true northern beauty, with a sword strapped to her back and a pelt secured to her shoulders.

“I seek an audience with Lord Cregan Stark.”

“He is in a meeting with his men.”

“He will want to speak to me.” You smiled pleasantly, “He owes loyalty to my mother, the Queen.”

“House Stark owes loyalty to King Viserys.” Sara jutted her chin, “No oaths were sworn to his lady-wife.”

“You misunderstand me, Sara Snow. I speak of my mother, the Realms Delight. Queen Rhaenyra to whom Lord Rickon swore fealty.”

The men sent furtive glances to one another. Sara paused and then curtsied. “Forgive me, Princess. The North had not heard word of you for some years now, we feared you had been lost.”

“Ah, I have been kept to the Keep for some time.”

“Winterfell is most honoured to–” Sara turned.

The sound of crunching snow, hurried footsteps, quickened breath. One of Sara’s men toppled to the ground as a dire wolf barrelled through his legs. Pitch black but frosted with snow, it careened toward you. The man giving chase shouted the wolf’s name, skidded around the line of men, and stumbled to a stop mere inches in front of you. In what seemed to be perfect, practised coordination, Laesuvion jammed his snout into your back as the dire wolf danced around his owner's legs. In a heap of limbs, winter cloaks, and riding leathers, you collapsed on the man and fell to the snow.

You wheezed; the air knocked from your lungs. Your limbs shook as you scrambled up, plating a hand on the man's face as leverage.

“Sir.” You hissed; with all the royal poise you could muster. Alicent would be appalled. Your mother would be beyond amused.

“My apologies, lady.” The man grabbed your hips to lift you from him. Mortified you slapped his hands away and fought to your feet. “If you would just let me–��

You struggled, “Unhand me!”

“Here, just–” You planted a knee in his groin. He tried to curl up beneath you.

“Get off me!” You gave him a harsh shove and fumbled to your feet. “How dare–”

Sara Snow launched into raucous laughter. Hand clutching her side as she howled in delight. Her men shuffled as if wondering whether to intervene. Your assailant hobbled to his feet, one handheld protectively over his front, the other outstretched toward you as if to keep you at a distance.

You whirled toward Sara, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, lady.” The man heaved, his dire wolf prancing about his feet. “It was an honest accident. Shadow has been tense of late.”

“You let your wolf run wild in such a way?” You sneered.

“As wild as you allow your dragon to be.”

As if on cue, Laesuvion pressed the length of his head to your back again. The dire wolf herded his owner.

“Laesuvion?” You turned, pressing your freezing fingers to the scales of his nose. “Lykirī, iōrās aril.” (be calm, stay back).

He huffed and shoved at your hands. You toppled again; this time the man caught you against his chest. Laesuvion shuffled back, his tail swishing through the snow in a great arch. A growl rumbled up his throat as one of Sara’s men tried to approach.

“Ah.” The man smiled down at you in understanding.

You tried shoving at him again, but his grip held firm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am a wolf pup or a precious stone, or some covetous thing.”

“You are more precious than both I fear, and certainly something to covet.” He held your forearms to contain your struggle. “I have waited many years to find my Promised. I did not imagine you would be so violent.”

Sara coughed, “Welcome brother. Might I be the first to introduce you to our Princess, daughter of Rhaenyra. She has come from King’s Landing to treat with you.” She sketched a bow, her lips still trembling, “Your Highness, my brother, the Lord Cregan Stark.”

You gaped, your mouth opening and closing. A myriad of emotions warmed your face. Bone deep mortification. The purest delight. Wonderment. Utter confusion. Behind you, the dire wolf, Shadow, ran playfully around Laesuvion. Your dragon moved to face the tiny yipping creature, stealing his warm breath from your back. You shivered the cold striking through you like a physical blow.

“Princess?” Cregan Stark asked softly. “Are you well?”

“I am cold and hungry and tired, and I wish to bathe.” You said in a rush, utterly horrified with yourself.

But your Promised only smiled, “Of course.”

Cregan Stark was a most gracious host. In the hours since your arrival, you had been given quarters in the same hall as that of the Starks. A maid had gone about filling the tub in your rooms with water warmed on the fire, to which she added fragrant oils and sweet-smelling soap. As you bathed the maid returned – Atara, you learned – to ply you with cheeses and fresh bread, soft meats, and stewed root vegetables. Once you had been thoroughly scrubbed and fed, you dressed in the soft night clothes Atara had brought with her and curled up in the thick expanse of blankets atop your bed.

You were allowed to sleep for far longer than you might have suspected. Only being roused by Atara once the sun had well and truly set.

“Your Highness, Lord Stark asks that you join his family for dinner.”

You tumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser where you let her braid back your hair in the northern style. She handed you a thick winter dress that Sara had sent for you to borrow and allowed you to don it yourself. Stepping in only to tighten the taught laces at its back. You delighted in the simple joy of dressing yourself, so used to the Queen’s maids who scrubbed you raw and laced you tightly into dresses all shaded the same insidious green.  

Atara whispered to you as she led you through the halls of Winterfell, “Lord Stark is a good and generous man. He has been Warden of the North for some years now, he is a just leader and kind to those in his employ. It is his uncle, who was his regent, and his power-hungry cousins you must watch.”

“Will they be at dinner?”

“No, they are north and east in Karhold. Though his sister will be present.”

“Sara Snow. She is his sister born? I assumed the Lord was her brother-at-arms, not a true blood relative.”

“Indeed,” Atara corralled you down another cavernous hall. “She is his sister and among his most trusted advisors.”

“Why does she bear the name Snow?”

“It is the surname given to those born out of wedlock in the north.”

“And this is not an issue in the north?”

Atara considered it for a moment, “For some it is. But Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

You wondered if she had been sent to sing his praises or if the people of the north were truly so enamoured with their lord.

“Is he not married?” You asked hesitantly, the thought had not yet crossed your mind.

Atara grinned, “He is not, Your Highness.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor does he have a lover.” She assured. “We servants would know.”

“Thank you, you have been most enlightening.” You smiled as you reached the Stark’s private dining hall, “I will see to myself tonight. Please, enjoy your evening.”

Atara curtsied, “Have a most wonderful night, Your Highness.”

You most certainly would.

The Starks took private dinners in a humble hall. Three places had been set at the far end of the dining table with a generous spread laid out between them. Cregan and Sara looked up from their conversation as you crossed to your seat.

“My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Snow.” You bowed your head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

Sara snorted into her cup, “Please, Princess, formalities are for the feasting hall and for those whose names you cannot remember.”

“Sister,” Cregan hissed.

You fought a smile, “Forgive me, Sara, I would not have you think I had forgotten your name already.”

“How does the dress fit?”

“Wonderfully,” You swished from side to side, “You are most generous.”

“I have never had a sister,” she said thoughtfully.

Cregan spluttered into his cup. You grinned, “Nor I.”

You thought only briefly of Heleana and her mother and their glittering cage.

Cregan leapt from his seat to pull yours out for you, “Please, ignore my sister, she is overly friendly.”

“Please, ignore my brother,” Sara mocked. “He is overly nervous.”

“Tis not everyday one meets their Promised.” He met your eyes fleetingly.

What a soft demeanour for the Warden of the North, you thought. Though you supposed you had smiled more today than you had in all your years in the Red Keep, so perhaps today was not a good judge of anyone’s character. You allowed him to serve up your plate as Sara kept up a steady stream of conversation. First marvelling at the fit of her dress on you, then the colour of your eyes, your hair in northern braids, your improved state after some well-needed rest.

“Is she not a sight, dear brother?” She teased.

“I apologise for my earlier state of unkempt.” You winced. You had hit the Lord of this castle, your Promised rather hard.

“I thought you looked marvellous.” Cregan argued, then seemed to realise what he’d said and hurried to add, “We have received reports that your dragon has taken to the Wolfswood.”

You exhaled slowly, “Laesuvion flew through day and night twice over to get me here so swiftly. He will be in need of food and rest as much as I.”

“Laesuvion. That is a beautiful name.” He said softly. “We can send meat if you wish?”

“He is a good hunter; he has fed himself since I was ten.”

“Still to have flown so fiercely, with so little rest…”

“It does not do well to deprive a dragon of its hunt. Especially in such times as these.”

Cregan placed his utensils down carefully, “Princess, what has brought you to Winterfell?”

You lowered your fork. Good, time to stop dancing around the subject. From the pocket of your skirt, you withdrew the King’s missive.

“I am not sure how far and fast word has travelled,” You looked to the siblings and frowned. “King Viserys is dead, and Aegon has been crowned in my mother's place. The night of his coronation Queen Alicent gave me this letter for you, Lord Stark, she wishes for us to marry.”

Cregan broke the seal of the King’s letter and read silently.

“There are worse things than to be told to marry ones Promised,” Sara joked lamely. You smiled weakly in the tense silence.

Finally, Cregan folded the letter and turned to you, “Why were you with the Queen, not with your mother on Dragonstone?”

“I have been the Queen’s ward for some nine years now.”

“And are you loyal to her?”

“As a dog is to its owner.”

“They are very loyal in the North,” Sara said.

“I was traded to her as reparations when my brother gorged her son's eye.” You said plainly, “I was her possession, but I remain my mother’s daughter.”

“House Stark swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra when she was made heir,” Cregan watched you carefully. “There has never been a Stark who has forgotten an oath.”

“I too have made a promise to my mother. I intend to keep it.”

Cregan brandished the letter, “This offers your hand in return for the North’s neutrality in the coming conflict. Is that what you wish?”

“May I speak plainly, my lord?”

“Please.”

“That letter is likely a forgery by the Dowager Queen’s hand. She is mistaken on many fronts, I fear, the least of which was Aegon’s ascension to King. I do not wish to go to war with my kin, but if it becomes inevitable I would rather do so with strong allies and in support of my mother.”

His head tilted, “House Stark is already an ally of your mother.”

“Yes,” You folded your hands on the table. “I should tell you, Lord Stark. My mother has sworn to marry me to my Promised for my service as her spy in the Red Keep.”

“You wish us to marry?”

“I wish to offer you my hand, outside my mother’s promise or the Queen’s demands.” You cleared your throat, and just as you had carefully prepared on your journey here you said, “I have been trained in the ways of the court, I will be of use to you in councils and in handling the affairs of your territory. I am of royal breeding, you will be made Prince-Consort, our children Princes, and Princesses of the realm. I have dragon eggs for their cradles and Valyrian blood for their veins. I would ask only that you allow Laesuvion to stay with me in the North. If not, I shall wait here until such a time as my brother Jacaerys comes to treat with you, that I might return with him to Dragonstone.”

You watched the Lord, his eyes dancing with an unnamed light as he listened to you. “I will need time.”

“Of course, my Lord, speak with your advisors.”

“You misunderstand him, Princess.” Sara grinned.

Cregan smiled, “I will not marry you hastily. I will need to summon my family and prepare a feast. It is a special thing, for those of our station, to be given leave to marry our Promised.”

“I–” You were unsure what you expected. “I suppose it is.”

Sara clapped gleefully, “Shall we call for dessert?”

You wore the soft nightclothes once more as you sat at your vanity and penned your mother a letter.

Mother,

How I have missed you. Know that I have thought of you often and never strayed from my mission nor my loyalty to you.

I have fled King's Landing and taken the Lord Hands life with me. Though the smallfolk have no mind to protest whichever Targaryen collects their taxes, you have many allies in the Red Keep. I have interred a list of those Lords and Ladies who remain loyal to you as well as those I have heard of beyond and some whom we may turn with careful diplomacy.

I am at Winterfell with my Promised, Lord Cregan Stark, whom I will marry in the coming weeks. With your blessing, of course. I await Jacaerys, with news of our family and our strategy. In the meanwhile, I intend to discuss what supplies and men Winterfell may have to offer you.

Mostly I am writing to you because I can. I am overwhelmed with the freedom to do so, to be able to tell you once more how much I love you. I cannot imagine how this week has been for you, know that though we are separated I am your most fierce supporter.

I have had a thought, in my hours here, about how far Winterfell is from the capital. How far we will be if we are forced into battle and bloodshed. Perhaps you might consider sending Joffery here, to mine and my soon-to-be Lord Husband's care.

I hope you are well, Mother. I love you from the very depths of my heart.

You signed the letter with a careful flourish and set it aside. You would ask Atara where you might find a raven-master to have it sent. You touched your fingers to it softly, your first contact with your family in nearly a decade. To tell your mother that you were preparing for marriage and war.

As you blew out your candles and settled into bed, you hoped your mother would like Lord Cregan Stark.

On your fourth morning in Winterfell, you took morning tea with Sara. She had taken lengths to make you comfortable in the days since your arrival, and you took great joy in breaking your fast with her each morning. Today, you spent the early hours humming and haring over the tiny sample cakes you had been sent to taste for the upcoming feast. As you ate, Sara told you all that she could about the castle, the arriving lords, the Stark territory, and their histories.

Northern marriage traditions, you had learned, were not so different from those celebrated at King’s Landing, there would be the exchanging of cloaks and binding words spoken before gods but there would also be a hunt. Women such as yourselves would not be invited but you would find your own fun, Sara assured.

“It is tradition to have the pelts in your quarters and the meats on the feasting table.”

You lifted a citrusy cake between your thumb and forefinger, “Husband and wife share quarters here?”

“Most,” Sara said thoughtfully, “Though I’m sure Cregan would accommodate you if it is different in the south.”

“What happens if their hunt is unsuccessful?”

“I imagine there will be much embarrassment among the North, that we could not bring our Princess quarry for her wedding table.” Sara snatched the half-eaten cake from your hands and winked, “Fear not, Cregan is a good hunter.”

“If he is not,” You smiled fiendishly, “I suppose the two of us will have to find meats for the feast ourselves.”

Sara snorted, “I think my brother would be rather put out at being unable to provide you with a gift on your wedding day. But the look on his face as we return from our own hunt is almost worth it.”

You jolted, “Am I to bring him a gift?”

“You have brought him dragon eggs.”

“For our children.” You argued.

“For his heirs,” She assured, “I think he is already downtrodden at the idea of only being able to bring you fur and meat.”

“I bring only scales and fire.”

“You will be a very warm family.”

“And very well-fed.”

Sara snatched another cake from you, “Only if you keep eating all of these before I get a taste!”

You guffawed. “I am hungry, and they are so tiny!”

“They need be, so you can keep eating.”

“And I shall!”

“Your Highness, Lady Snow,” Atara curtsied as she entered, “Lord Stark has requested your presence in the courtyard.”

“Another lord has arrived?” Sara sank her teeth into another teacake. “Which house does he hail from?”

“No Lord, my Lady.” Atara looked to you uneasily, “A Prince. Of House Targaryen.”

After nearly nine years kept apart by the waters of Blackwater Bay, and three long days separated by your duties, the time had come. You caught your first look at your eldest brother as you left the comfort of the Great Keep and nearly crumpled to the ground. Sara laid a steadying hand at your shoulder as Atara whispered sweet comforts. But nothing could prepare you for the sight laid out in the courtyard.

Jacaerys, with Vermax perched atop the walls of the keep. Jacaerys, with tousled dark hair. Jacaerys, once the awkward boy you followed dutifully, now an emissary of the Queen. Jacaerys, your brother. Jacaerys, your mother’s son.

“Jacaerys!” You ran. Past Sara and Atara, past Cregan and his warning cry. You ran. Almost straight into the end of your brother’s sword. You pulled to a halt, the blade a whisper away from your sternum, “Jacaerys?”

“Sister,” He sneered. “How far you are from your castle.”

“I have escaped.”

“You have been sent as an emissary of the usurper and his cunt-mother.”

“She did not tell you?” Your arms slumped at your side. “Mother sent me as a spy, she and Daemon trusted me to–”

“Her trust was misplaced. You have betrayed us.”

“I have come here to rally the North for our mother’s claim, just as you have.”

“You have come here to better your station.”

“I am a Princess.” You hissed, confused, and insulted.

“You are Princess of nothing, of no house.”

“I am of House Targaryen,” You pressed forward until the tip of his sword tore through the bodice of your dress and blood welled. You turned, held out your hand and gave Cregan a pleading look, he shifted but stayed back. “I am Princess of loyalty, of oaths and duty. I have come to the North to escape the Greens, to tell our mother, the Queen, all that I have discovered these years.”

“Where was loyalty,” Jacaerys shook with rage. “When they dragged us before the Iron Throne and called our mother a whore and our brothers bastards? Where was duty, when Lucerys was nearly stripped of his birthright? Where were you when Laenor died? When Rhaenys flew to our mother's side to tell her of–”

“Our father is dead?” You whispered.

“Your father is Daemon.” He growled under his breath.

You reeled back, “My father is Laenor Velaryon.”

“It is Daemon. He told us so himself when he married Mother.”

“Daemon and mother are married?”

His sword sagged slightly, “The Greens did not tell you? What of Viserys and Aegon?”

“Our grandsire and uncle?”

Jacaerys looked pained, “Our brothers.”

You fell to your knees, shoved your face in your hands and wept. Jacaerys jerked his sword backward and staggered away from you as Cregan rushed to your side.

“Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm over you. “What is the matter?”

“The question of Driftmark’s succession,” Jacaerys stared at you in horror. “Where were you?”

“I did not know!” You sobbed. “I did not know!”

“Otto Hightower said you would not see us, that you felt abandoned and betrayed when Mother gave you to the Greens.”

Cregan pulled you closer to him as Jacaerys inched forward. He growled, “Stand back. You have no enemies among the Starks. Do not make one.”

“I went willingly, for mother, for Lucerys.” You glared up at your brother. “You watched me! I traded my life; you watched me do it!”

“Otto Hightower–”

“Is dead!” You bared your teeth. “I fled King’s Landing, and I killed the man who usurped our mother, and you as her heir. I am loyal, I am steadfast, I am your greatest supporter as heir.”

“Tis true.” Cregan attested. “She has come to the North in support of your mother's claim. She has offered her hand to me, and we have talked much of giving your mother’s children sanctuary here.”

“You are betrothed?” Jacaerys whispered.

“I am.” You said proudly.

Cregan smiled at you softly, “The North is yours, my Prince. So long as my Promised wills it.”

“Sister.” Was all Jacaerys could say. “Sister.”

“Come,” Cregan lifted you to your feet. “My betrothed will catch a cold out here, let us speak inside.”

.

Cregan sat you gently by the fire swaddling you in the great expanse of his cloak. Sara brought tea to your side while your brothers sat at the other end of the room to discuss politics.

“Did you hear?”

Sara blew on her cup, “I heard a lot.”

“Did you hear what he said about my father?”

“That you lost one? Or that…” She pursed her lips.

“That I am Daemon’s bastard.”

“I did.”

“Do you think Cregan heard?” You burrowed into his cloak.

She gave you a secret smile, “Does it matter? You are a Princess, twice over. And Cregan keeps me around, does he not?”

“I only meant…” You turned away. “I fear he may think me liable to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Will you?”

You stared at her, “Cregan has been kind to me, listened to me, protected me – given me more than anyone has ever offered me. And he is my Promised. Why should I stray from him?”

“Then there is no reason to fret.”

“And the King’s Hand?”

“What of him?”

“I killed him.” You half hid your face in your teacup.

“Do you regret it?” Sara asked curiously. “It is no small thing, to kill a man.”

“He has haunted my family for generations. I would do it again.”

Sara shrugged, “Then we will speak no more of it, justice has been served. I’m sure Cregan will more than agree.”

“Will he?”

“He has been forced to make decisions even further North of here, at the wall.” She took a long sip of tea and stared into the flames. “Some even I do not agree with. But we are family, and he is your Promised. So, it does not matter, does it?”

“No.” You stared into your cup. “I suppose not.”

“Princess!” The man in question came over with a charming grin, “Your brother has offered to escort you at our wedding.”

Jacaerys looked at you timidly, “If you will have me, sister.”

You looked first to Cregan who nodded, and then to Jacaerys with a soft smile. “Of course, brother. Nothing would please me more.”

The letter from your mother arrived another four days later. It came to you clutched in Jacaerys’ hand with the seal broken. He had caught the raven just south of Winterfell as he, Cregan and the Northmen returned from the ceremonial hunt.

“I apologise, sister, I have never been accused of being patient.”

You scoffed, “Some things do not change.”

“Indeed,” Jacaerys said rather gravely. “I must ask a small favour of you before I give you this letter. It is on behalf of myself and our mother.”

You straightened, “Of course brother.”

“You will not open it until after you have been blissfully wedded to Lord Stark.” He paused at your dubious look, “Mother has words she wishes to share only after your wedding. Congratulations and such.”

“I suppose that is agreeable.” You took the letter carefully, “Though we require her blessings to move forward.”

“And you have them.” He tapped the letter. “In there. You shall marry your Promised tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

And so, you married him that night.

The Godswood was eerie in the darkness of night. Though lit by the torches of countless Northmen, it felt as if the darkness were reaching cool unnatural fingers toward your procession. Coaxing you, in your red-black Maiden Cloak toward the foot of the weirwood heart tree, where your Lord-Promised, his uncle, and the dire wolf Shadow wait. Jacaerys held your hand tightly as if frightened to let you go. Around you, Lords and honoured guests planted their torches in the snow, lighting the way for you and your brother. The wind whistled through the silence, broken only by the great rumbling in Laesuvion’s chest where he perched on the lip of the keep’s gate.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Called Bennard Stark.

Jacaerys whispered your name, then cleared his throat in embarrassment and announced it proudly, "Daughter of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Cregan, of House Stark,” Your Promised sent you a small secret smile, “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon, who is her brother and Prince." Jacaerys gave your hand a firm squeeze as he gave you to Cregan.

"Princess,” Lord Bennard made an admirable effort to say your name without disdain, “Will you take this man?"

You took Cregan’s large warm hands in your own and smiled, “I take this man.”

Silently, hands joined, you knelt to the cold earth. Around you, the Lords of the North fell to their knees and bowed their heads in deference. Foreheads pressed together, you and Cregan offered silent prayers to the Old Gods. When you stood as one, Sara was there in her uncle's place, a cloak of thick, luscious fur in the silver-grey of House Stark.

You tipped your head back as Cregan fiddled with the ties of your Maiden’s Cloak. You smiled at the sky as he struggled gently against your neck. Finally, it loosened, there was a brief shock of cold and then there was wonderous heat, the furred collar tickling your chin. You look to Cregan then, donned in his colours, wrapped in his protection. You smile softly at one another and lean into a soft kiss.

The black sky lights up with swashes of red as Laesuvion spits fire at the stars.

All at once sound returns to the Godswood as the witnesses of your nuptials cheer, chief among them is your brother. You laugh in delight as Cregan grips your cheeks and plants another kiss on your lips. Shadow yips at your heels as your husband sweeps you up into his arms and carries you toward the Great Hall.

He whispers sweet promises for your future, and you have never been more grateful to know how fiercely a Stark is at keeping their word.

It was the wolf’s hour when the festivities swelled through the Great Hall and you found yourself drawn to a quiet corner. You excused yourself from your husband by pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. He smiled softly at you and trailed his fingers from yours as you walked toward the hearth roaring at the far end of the hall. You pulled your mother's letter from your pocket and pressed your fingers against her seal as if you could fuse the two halves back into a whole. She and Jacaerys would not mind, you were sure, it was your wedding day after all, and you craved an inch of your mother’s presence.

You unfolded her letter and read:

My dearest girl,

I have never doubted you and I do not do so now.

You have my blessings. Marry the Lord Cregan Stark and take joy in your Promised. I will entrust Baela and Rhaena to bring your young brothers into your care.

You have served me well, which is why I write to you now, though my heart tells me to spare you.

Aemond has taken Lucerys’ life. War has come.

You looked up gripping the letter until your fingers drew indents in the paper and made desperate eye contact with Jacaerys’ pained face. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob tore from your throat, drowned by the thundering roar of Laesuvion overhead. Cregan stood, fighting to stumble his way toward you, as the walls of Winterfell rattled with your fury.

Nine years you had spent in the Red Keep, learning your enemies inside and out. Carefully ushering pieces across a board too vast for you to comprehend, hoping desperately you could stop a war conceived long before you. It all narrowed to this moment. Wrapped in the cloak of your husband’s house, framed by the hearth fire, as your dragon raged above.

Your Brother. Your Dragon. Your Husband.

By Blood. By Fire. By the Old God’s Promise.

You would avenge your brother and bring war to the Greens.

[lizzieisright]

The happy end to this story! (childhood friends to lovers). Thank you for voting!

Palestine: what can you do

Morning comes way too early and your head is absolutely killing you. You sit on the bed slowly, scared you'll get dizzy, and try to remember how much you drank yesterday.

Instead you're hit with a brick to your face when you remember the end of the night.

Holy fuck.

You can't breathe for a second. Why the fuck did you confess to Abby? Did she kiss you as well? What the fuck? What the fuck happened?

You don't feel like you can even start to unpack all of that in your current state. You take a shower with a slight tremor in your body and keep your head empty: it's not hard when the headache is still pounding at your temples.

You brush your teeth and lazily slump to the kitchen, eager to drink something - dehydration is such a bitch. You make yourself tea and sit on a chair, staring at your table.

It's not true, is it? You had these dreams before when you'd wake up and swear something happened, but then details wouldn't add up and you'd come to a conclusion it was your drunk hallucination. This was probably one of them, right?

Should you text Abby and ask if anything happened?

Yeah, no. You'd rather die.

It eats you alive and if it's really happened, it'd be the end. No way Abby really kissed you yesterday - she probably left and your mind decided to sweeten the pill and played the same tape it plays every time you get too upset. It's pathetic and humiliating, but it makes you feel better. Usually.

It doesn't make you feel better now since your intuition is screaming at you, telling you yesterday was real, but you ignore it, because you can't afford hope.

And even if it was real, what's next? Hey Abby, do you want to break up wi-

The doorbell rings and startles you - and now you're terrified. You don't want to know who is there. (Because you know who it is.)

But you can't ignore the doorbell because it hurts your head way too much, so you go to open the door just to end this awful noise.

And Abby is there, smiling with a bag of a takeout next door she knows you crave on the hangover.

"Hi." She breathes out and there's her usual adoring look you can't handle. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm genuinely considering dying as an option." You joke, but you'd really prefer to be anywhere else than face Abby and yesterday's.. situation.

"Did you wake up not long ago?" Abby makes her way around your apartment to go to the kitchen and you're puzzled.

"Half an hour ago."

So did something happen yesterday or not? Is Abby being normal or is she pretending to be normal? Your dry ramen brain can't figure her out, so you decide to go with the flow and see what happens.

Abby serves the food and you sit down to eat. Your stomach growls and there is disgusting smell of alcohol when you breath out; you cringe and start eating, your mind is still half-empty. You feel like a zombie with no functioning brains and it's better than hearing your anxiety.

"Thank you." You say and take a large bite, because apparently you're very hungry.

"I broke up with Mia."

You choke on your food.

"What the fuck Abby!" You cough and it takes a few minutes to calm down. "You can't just say it when I'm chewing, come on. But also: What?"

"I went to her place just before I came here. We talked and I told her I can't keep dating her. She was upset, but she said she understood."

You blink. Your hands start shaking and it's not hangover. You press your lips together to not smile because Abby's words give you hope.

"So yesterday was real?" You ask, scared shitless.

"Yeah." Abby smiles and reaches out, tangling her fingers with yours. "You thought it was a dream?"

"Yeah." You admit and stare at your joined hands. "Are you being friendly right now?" You are cautious. You can't have any subtlety right now, you need Abby to be clear with you. After yesterday there's no space for blurred boundaries and friendly flirting.

"No, I'm not." Abby chuckles. "You want to hear it?"

"Yes." You sound like you're begging and Abby giggles.

"I'm in love with you."

You fold. Literally. Your body gives up and relaxes in the chair and you take a deep breath. It's real. It's all real, and Abby is here and she is in love with you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh my god." You squeak under your breath. "Yes. Yes. Fuck. Fuck, I will."

Abby smiles happily and raises your fingers to kiss them. You shudder and you feel like you're going to throw up.

Oh shit.

You run to the bathroom and empty your stomach. Abby runs after you, laughing, but keeping your hair out of the way.

"Really?"

"Shut the fuck up, Abby." You say and wipe your mouth. "I'm hangover."

Abby washes your face for you and kisses your forehead.

"Is it gross I still want to kiss you?" Abby murmurs and you feel your face heat up.

"Incredibly gross. I'll brush my teeth first."

Abby laughs and watches impatiently as you brush your teeth. The moment you finish she is turning you around and kisses you, wet and hungry, and your knees buckle. Abby is not shy and she is not trying to slow down, practically devouring you, pushing her tongue inside your mouth and squeezing your waist as if she is mapping you with her fingers. You're overwhelmed by all of this, but you respond eagerly and hug her shoulders. The kiss tastes like mint, but both of you don't mind.

"I guess your skills improved since we were 14." Abby teases you, but she is smiling happily. You are both panting, and you pinch her side enough for it to be painful.

"And you still drool all over my face."

"Well." Abby smirks at you. "You seem to like it."

"Maybe." You return the smirk and kiss her again, wondering if your God is a still a God if you can reach her?

You think she is.

[catmadeofsalad]

Lucifer: MC, are you feeling alright?

MC: *pale, sweaty, trembling* Yeah, I'm fine.

Lucifer:

No, you are not. Asking was a courtesy. Get in bed human, now.

A professional at making the perfect tea, exactly as you like it. Are you hungry as well? If the thought of eating is too much, he looks up what humans eat when sick and is surprised to find a diet, but he's pleased when you eat the toast he made you.

Your fever isn't breaking for a while, so he moved his office to your room so as to be able to replace the cool cloth on your forehead. The table was covered in his paperwork, but he refused to let one of his brothers have free reign of your room while you were sick.

Lucifer sneaks kisses on your forehead whenever he checks your temperature with the back of his hand.

Demons don't catch human illnesses, so expect him to help you into the shower if you're dizzy or too tired.

He also sleeps in your bed with you after you've already fallen asleep. This isn't something he'd usually do, but seeing you shiver despite your layers of blankets quickly changes his mind.

He brings you your school work and makes sure you stay up to date on your lessons, having previously informed Diavolo of your inability to attend classes.

Lucifer requests a hand from Barbatos in making you a soup from the human world, and with the royal butler's assistance, you're fed the perfect bowl of chicken noodle soup.

The week and half it took you to fully recover was baffling to the eldest demon brother, but nonetheless, he was glad once you were better.

"MC, what is this?" Is surprised at the "Thank You!" basket of poison apples and other treats that appear on his desk. Is he blushing? No, of course not. The lighting is just off.

Those forehead kisses? They become a permanent expression of endearment.

Mammon

His human is dying!? Not again! Not on his watch!

You cough? Here's more water- humans need to be hydrated when they're sick, right?

You're shivering! More blankets, a sweater- yeah, he's getting into bed with you, ya got a problem with it?

Mammon means well, he's trying his best. If his brothers got sick he never needed to worry because they were demons. He still took care of them in his own way, but his human wad sick now! What would he do if they didn't get better!?

You have to tell him that it's just a bad cold and you'll get better soon. He nods, hand on his chin as he thinks.

Mammon gets a list of items that would help you from Lucifer and Satan, and let's just say that you're all set one supplies if you ever get sick again. For over the next five years. Cold medicine? Yep. Ice packs? Lucifer told him he didn't need all 20 in the freezer but what does he know!? You've been sweating nonstop for days, ya need ta cool down.

If you were a plant you'd live the longest, but as a human, it'd take a while for you to become dehydrated again. Even with all the eness sweating.

If you thought Mammon was attentive before, watch out. He'd hugged you a lot through your sickness to keep you warm, so the slightest shiver even once you're better? Get ready for hugs!

He's surprised when you start hugging him more, too. Mammon is super tsundere at first, complaining about the affection, but he doesn't stop you. The Avatar of Greed stops complaining not long after, just happy with the affection.

Leviathan

You what? Ew, gross, no wait, don't leave - he'll take care of you!

Wait. How does he take care of a human?

It can't be that hard. He can do it!

Where did he get that lab coat- never mind, it doesn't matter. You're tightly wrapped in blankets, snacks and drinks supplied outside of the tub he calls a bed before he sardines into the porcelain bed with you.

Levi runs cold, something he forgets about until your fever spikes. He's about to ask what you need when his cold chest is perfect for your overheated face.

He sputters about how he can get you cool cloths or something and about how you shouldn't cuddle up with such a gross otaku like himself until you start to pull away.

As soon as you start to pull away, he pulls you back to himself and holds you tightly. You're not leaving his room until you're better!

Lucifer disagreed almost as much as Mammon, the former being more so upset that he hadn't been informed and almost uad to tell Diavolo that the human had gone missing.

While your sick Levi let's you join in his online classes, and keeps you up to date on them.

When you're sweaty and gross and actually cold, he runs you a warm bath. He gets some soothing bath bombs and scents from Asmodeus for your bath.

N-no, he's not joining you cause he's worried! He likes the smells too, and besides, you've been snuggled together, and your sweat was all over him!

Even though you were sick, he knew you saw through his excuses.

Once your health was back to normal, Leviathan indulged in cuddle sessions in his bed more often.

The biggest jump for the two of you? Cuddle sessions in the actual bath. Nothing inappropriate or suggestive, just sincere cuddle sessions in the warm water that you two held each other in.

Satan

Of course you're sick, he could tell based on how you were dozing off during movie night. Here's some tea and light soup, go lie down.

How he's one step ahead of your cold you'll never know, but when your fever spikes he has cool cloths already next to your bed.

Satan can tell how dizzy you are when trying to help you walk to the bathroom, and he swoops you up into his arms.

The blonde talks about his favorite recent book as he helps you bathe, helping you dry off and change into fresh, warm clothes before getting you back into bed.

One of his brothers wants to help you? Nope, he's got everything you need. Lucifer is only kept up to date on your well-being from Mammon or Beel, asking on behalf of the eldest.

When you start to feel better, he makes sure that you're active. Sore joints after being sick was miserable, and he didn't want you to feel worse.

As soon as you're better, cuddle reading sessions become a popular activity. You both have the same book, and you take turns reading chapters or pages while you sip on tea.

Asmodeus

Oh honey, he can see your clammy skin a mile away. Not to mention those dark circles and slight hand tremors.

A relaxing face .ask and a warm bath are going to help ear your lungs, and also make your skin feel better. Trust this demon, he knows his way around a rejuvenating bath!

You have a headache? Time for a scalp massage dear, close your eyes!

Seriously, Asmo is all about you getting better as fast as possible. He hates getting sick and knows some little tricks to help.

A rejuvenating bath bomb with coconut butter, oats, and a hint of lavender? Your skin is soft, and despite being sick, you feel so clean!

You're sick for about a week, but the fifth oldest is your personal nurse- eccentric nurse costume and all!

He has herbal teas, a lotion with massaging pearls to help with under eye soreness, and not to mention his full body massages for of you get achy while your sick.

He waits on his human hand and foot, but if you call on him too much he'll definitely complain or stop, "so don't abuse my perfect care and sexy nurses outfit, okay?"

Asmodeus takes you out to his favorite spa once you're better, and you surprise him with a new nail polish and face mask set as thanks for his help.

Those full body massages? Once you're completely better, those become a regular form of comfort, closeness, and lead ups to...well, I'm sure you know MC.

Beelzebub

Beel doesn't notice at first, he just thinks you've been studying too hard again.

When you don't eat as much or decline heavier foods, he gets concerned. Buffo milk tea is your favorite when you're overworked...

He doesn't want to make you upset by asking why you aren't eating as much. After all, Asmodeus scolded him once for asking when he was trying a new diet.

Beelzebub carefully asked if you weren't feeling well, and when you said you were sick everything changed.

Nurse Beel to the rescue!

Seriously. He made you soup, and you almost asked if Barbatos had made it but the orange haired demon mentioned how he scoured many cookbooks with Satan before finding the right one.

The light's bothering your eyes, and you have a migraine? They're all off quickly and the curtains are closed as well.

You're cold even though you have many blankets? Beelzebub is your personal heater.

He definitely gets concerned when you decline a new soup or meal because you're nautious, but he gets assistance from Lucifer on making you the right tea.

Beelzebub is extra gentle with you when you're sick, and he cuddles with you so carefully while he plays with your hair/massages your scalp. Not to mention, he has a great humming voice and helps you get to sleep relatively quickly.

Once you're all better, you buy him a variety party pack of his favorite chips and cookies.

Those soft cuddles and singing to sleep? Yeah, that becomes a near constant for you two when you're stressed or upset. You've sang him to sleep a couple of times, too, when he was having a rough day.

Belphegor

"I told you not to get out of bed, come lie back down MC."

Belphegor takes full advantage of you being sick to cuddle you constantly. Or at least, as much as he can. He won't cuddle you while you use the bathroom, but he'll carry you there.

He complains when you can't lie still due to shivers, but he does so as he pulls you tighter into his arms and wraps you up into the blanket tighter.

Belphie doesn't really know how to take care of a human when their sick- especially one so important to him. He relies on Satan for help in that department.

"How are you still cold?" He whines softly, holding you closer and pressing kisses to your face and neck softly. Belphegor tries to be your main heat source, but he does eventually get you more blankets, socks, or hoodies. It's his hoodie, though, so don't share your weird human germs.

Despite all the rest you got and Satan's help, it takes you a long time to get better, but once you do, you surprise him with a set of eye masks and slippers.

Those cuddley and kisses? Oh, they stay, and you two take turns kissing each other to sleep fairly often.

[jiminiecrickets]

jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2.2k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, handjobs, praise, shower sex

"you agreed. you pinky-promised. was what you wrote really that bad?"

he shifts on the couch, tucking his feet up to his chin and hiding his face behind it. his face is a very, very dark shade of red. "it's awful. horrible. you'll break up with me if you read it."

"then why'd you write it down in the first place?"

"i don't know!" he whines. "i was feeling brave!"

you set down the controller. on the large flat-screen tv, your characters circle the mario kart track behind the scoreboard. waluigi, jungkook's character, throws a tantrum in his race-car. "give me the paper."

"you'll hate me."

fourth place. fourth place. he can't believe himself. your name is highlighted at the top, neatly settled in first place. he'd been so comfortable, in the lead for the entirety of the match, and his big ego decided that an 'all or nothing' pity round would come out in his favour.

as quick as lighting, you snatch the crumpled ball of paper and unfold it, slapping jungkook's panicked hands away. your brows furrow deeper the longer you look at it.

"you're right. you were feeling brave."

jungkook slumps against your shoulder, his face pinched in embarrassment. "please don't think badly of me because of it, hyung..."

lowering the torn corner of paper, you ask softly, "would you like to do this with me, kookie? i'm interested."

his head shoots up. "what? are you serious?"

"no, i'm batman." he rolls his eyes with a huff and you grin, eyes crinkling as you pull him into your side. "yes, i'm being serious. thank you for telling me – i would never have expected something like this out of my cute little boyfriend."

if possible, his pout intensifies. he crosses his arms over his knees, staring determinedly ahead at the game. "'m not little."

you hush him, tilting his face towards you and pressing a long kiss to those pretty pink lips. he hums breathily, leaning into you with a hand on your chest. he whines quietly when you finally pull away for air, his chest heaving as he blinks at you with wide, dark eyes.

"seven days," he whispers, leaning in and throwing his leg over your lap, caging your thighs with his own. he rocks his hips slowly, savouring your low groan of pleasure. "seven days to fuck me whenever and wherever you want. that's your prize, baby – don't waste it."

eyeing his body hungrily, you grin like a beast unchained. you cradle his tiny waist, and playfully, you lift your hand against it, comparing sizes. "oh, darling, i'm not letting a single inch of you go unloved."

he nibbles on his lower lip as you tug his shirt out of the waistband of his ripped jeans. he's due for his gym session tomorrow – goes every two or three days, whatever he can fit into his schedule – and he'd made lunch for the two of you just a few hours ago. his skin is warm, his tummy soft, and it tenses with a gasp under your palms as they glide across his skin.

"mh... sorry, baby," he whispers, lashes fluttering as he blushes a dusty pink. "i should've done this on gym day..."

"hm? why?" you rock his ass against your lap with a soft exhale. you arch a brow at him. "do you think you're only attractive to me when you're hungry and dehydrated? idiot."

"hey," he whines, a protesting pout adorning his lips. he touches your hand on his stomach, fingers wrapping around yours. "'m not an idiot! just... i dunno... i wanna be handsome for you, hyung, y'know?"

you give him a look. "did i ask you out, or your abs?"

"well, me..."

"i asked you out after we finished three large pizzas at two in the morning. i think we ate about a kilo of cheese each."

he snorts. "yeah, yeah... i guess."

"uh-huh." you squeeze his hips and bring him down to kiss him, lips moving gently together. you part and bury your nose in his neck, lazily moving your hips against one another. he moans softly as you roll your palm against his bulge. "baby, you're always beautiful to me. on gym day or not – i would worship you for hours if you'd let me."

he giggles softly. "that's why i don't. you gotta be more productive than being buried between my thighs from dawn to dusk." he slips your belt free and tosses it – you barely felt him doing it, too busy engraving the sight of his sweet eyes and smile into the backs of your eyelids. "but, you know, a whole week to do whatever you want to me..."

you groan lowly at the suggestion, hastily pulling him out of his pants. you don't do it with half the grace that he does, but he seems to appreciate your enthusiasm, his cock already hard and twitching with anticipation. "mm, that does sound amazing. okay, ground rules: no touching yourself at any point. only i can get you off."

"fuck, o-okay, hyung. agreed."

you pump his cock slowly, capturing his lips hungrily. he drawls out a moan, his fingers drifting up your wrist. his other hand cradles the back of your head and he presses your foreheads together, his breath warm and quick against your cheek.

you flick your wrist and he whimpers softly, grip tightening around the base of your hand. his cock leaks as he bucks into your hand. you hush him, grazing your lips along his jawline. your hand quickens. "how does that feel, baby? good?"

"mm – mmhm," he whimpers. "it does, it does! feels really good..."

you spoil him too much. ever since you got together, he hasn't needed to touch himself – you're always right there, offering to do it for him. he's glad that you do – you can reach places so deep in him that he never knew existed, and you're always so gentle with him, making sure his pleasure is a priority.

he's dated a lot of people, but you're the first one who makes him feel so loved and important. it's almost embarrassing how much he loves you, how much he adores the way you pamper him.

he sniffles softly, burying his face in your shoulder. he grinds into your fist, cock dripping precome down your knuckles.

you hum softly, wrapping an arm around his waist. "you okay, darling? this too much?"

he shakes his head. "n-no... keep going. please. i love you."

it's sudden, and you stop moving for a half-second in surprise. "i love you, too, jungkookie. is everything alright?"

he nods, grabbing your hand and moving it up and down his swollen cock. it's cute and flushed red, twitching in your palm excitedly. "mhm. i just really love you – want you to know that."

who knew that love confessions mid-handjob could be so adorable? you smile into his hot skin and cradle him close as he gasps and jerks into your hand, spilling onto your shirt with a soft whimper.

for a long while, he remains completely lax in your arms, panting softly against your neck as he comes down from his high. when he opens his eyes tiredly, you smile down at him and kiss his cheek, tucking him back into his pants.

he whines quietly, reaching for your belt. "you didn't finish, baby... i can feel how hard you are."

you hum softly, tugging his hand away. "you need a shower, anyway. can i join you?"

his lower lip slips teasingly between his teeth. his eyes sparkle. "mm, of course. you're not getting away so easily, hyung-ah – i'm gonna eat you alive."

you smirk, letting him drag you to your feet and towards the bathroom. his eyes glint with mischief and he pulls you down by your collar to meet your lips with his, one of his hands tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. his thumb is hooked through a belt loop.

you groan into his mouth as he strokes your clothed bulge with a cheeky grin. "baby, don't test me. i'm the one with the week-long free pass to your ass."

 he winks. "why d'you think i'm doing this? last one into the shower loses!"

he wins. with the steamy water hitting your back, you cage jungkook against the glass, your arms sturdy beside him. you keep him safe, protected, from the world. not once does he feel trapped – not once does he feel confined in your love. no matter how closely you press against him, no matter how deep you are inside of him – you are his, and he is yours.

there's a certain freedom in being engulfed by your arms. he never expected it. spreading his thighs, kissing his shoulder – you love him like no other has. you love him in all the ways that matter and all the ways that don't because you're overflowing with it, that love of yours. even when you're balls deep inside him – an exciting, dirty kind of love that he blushes about in the mornings – you're smiling into his neck, murmuring about how lovely he is and how he deserves you, deserves your cock, deserves your love and deserves all that is good and bright. it's your turn to lavish him with love confessions and he can barely keep track of them all, his coherent thoughts running down the drain with each solid thrust of your hips.

"hyung," he whimpers, gnawing on his lower lip. he squeezes his eyes shut, fingers scrabbling for purchase fruitlessly against the smooth glass. your cock glides against his prostate and he grabs your hip, pulling you into him with a warbled moan. "f-fuck..."

"what's that, baby?" you murmur against his skin, hot and slick. your thrusts make him unravel, strong and hard and consistent against that spot inside him that makes him see stars. it's mind-melting. "you wanna tell me something?"

he whimpers, eyes squeezing shut as your hips shift against his ass, angling differently. your cock just grazes his prostate and he clenches around you, a warbled cry of your name leaving his lips. he feels so tiny – his feet between yours, your cock buried so deep in him he can practically taste it. he arches his back, tight ass pressing back against your pelvis, and savours your growl and the way your hand grips the opposite side of his waist, gripping the slim shelf of his hip.

"gotta use your words, pretty thing," you husk. with every thrust, it takes longer to bottom out, and eventually your hips still entirely. he whines, high-pitched and wanton, and grinds against you – you keep him at bay with one hand pressed firm to the small of his back. "easy, pretty. can you do that f'me? can you talk to me, tell me what you want from me?"

you step forward, forcing jungkook to stand straighter, pressed closer to the glass. trapped in your arms, he has no room to move, no room to argue. he shivers, chest grazing glass, and can't help the unsteady shuffle of his feet. the hot, steamy water hits your back and glides down your neck, your chest, dripping onto his shoulders.

lifting a hand, you tuck it against his upper ribs, fingers pressed into the lean muscle of his chest. the flesh – pull and push, stroking and caressing. he lets out a whisper of a moan as your warm fingers flick over his nipple, hard and pebbled.

"want you," he whines quietly, voice cracking in the middle when your hand travels down his hot, slick stomach and glides over his throbbing cock. he grabs your hip, fingers digging into you until his knuckles turn white. "w-want you – want you close to me, closer, please, want you closer—"

he breaks off with a babble as you take his hands and pin them flat to the glass. the motion draws you ever nearer – closer, as he'd say, the sweet thing – and your cock reaches so deep inside him, pressing against his stomach. he's dizzy with it, veins buzzing and head detached from his shoulders.

eventually, he hears your chuckle, like a radio knob turned slowly louder. his heart rabbits in his chest as he cracks open his eyes, temple pressed against the cold clear glass. his breath fogs it, and water trails down his cheeks from his damp hair, stuck to his skin the way it always does when you tear him apart and put him back together. his cock is wet and sticky, the heat tingling in his lower spine with a pulsing desperation.

it's all over his tummy, he thinks distantly with a soft whimper. he'd be embarrassed if he could remember the word.

when you finally finish, jungkook's legs feel like jelly. he curls his fingers around yours, lacing them together as he pants against the foggy glass, his hair damp and the air thick with the smell of sex. you kiss him over his shoulder and he moans against your lips, soft and tired. he smiles and closes his eyes as you reach for the shampoo – he leans back against your chest as you smooth your hand down his stomach, gentle and warm. he can feel your pulse through your palms and your heart through his ribs.

"i love you," he whispers against your throat. he means it in every iteration it has ever been.

[milkycarnations]

HC's for the creeps aftercare after a rough night with their SO?

A rough night or a rough night? ;) Let's do both. Please keep sending stuff to my inbox I'm obsessed. For context, the sfw ones still apply in the nsfw context lol. I wanted the sfw ones to apply even in the context of just going through some tough shit.

Tim

sfw:

Makes you breakfast the next day - let's you pick. Or gets something for you if you prefer something from a cafe/restaurant/fast food chain.

You want a sausage egg McMuffin and breakfast ends in three minutes? He's gonna find a way to get you that sandwich.

He really believes in food as comfort and love, so whatever you prefer he wants to make happen.

nsfw:

Can't stop staring at you. Like, it's almost disturbing how his eyes are on you constantly.

Prefers if you don't get dressed, but if you must, would ask you to wear a long t-shirt or a slip.

In this moment, you could literally ask him to do anything for you - and he would. Use that information however you please. He just wants to pamper you.

Brian

sfw:

Won't let you go until you ask him to, even if he's lying in bed all day.

When you're genuinely bothered or upset by something, he can soften up and be really good support for whatever it is.

If cuddling for very long isn't your thing, then he's content just being near you.

nsfw:

This man is so smug.

Of course, if you're in sub drop or anything, he's going to go easy on you, but the back and forth between you doesn't really stop. He will bring up whatever happened and kind of keep that going - even if you're a bit embarrassed now that you came.

Really - he just wants to work you up all over again and keep the game going for just a little bit longer. I really do believe he's a mean dom and really does get off on humiliating you. He will remind you of everything embarrassing you did for him.

Jack

sfw:

Makes you drink a glass of water - even if you say you aren't thirsty. He knows you're dehydrated.

If you're hungry now, he'll make you a meal, but he's not opposed to waiting. He makes you what you like the most, whether that's from that restaurant you like or just Kraft mac n' cheese.

nsfw:

He knows what he's doing and he already has everything set up. He's cleaning you up with a warm towel before you can even catch your breath. He doesn't want you to get an infection, after all.

Usually spitting praises and compliments to you.

Often suggests a bath together - even though he can't fit in the tub at all.

Toby

sfw

Now is the perfect time for adventure. Wants to go on a night walk.

Just wants to go out and do things with you alone in nature - pretend to not exist to the rest of society with you.

You'll walk down the empty 2 am street and just talk about whatever's on your mind. Sit on the swings at the park and kick rocks enjoying each other's company.

nsfw:

His aftercare is horny.

He'll still be touching you in ways, or still be inside of you.

He's a biter and finds himself still giving little nibbles to your neck, but when he finally stops, he catches himself running his fingers over the love bites.

It's all fervent and reckless, but not neglectful. I don't really know how else to describe it like that. Toby loves like a teenage boy loves his first girl friend - unabashed and adventurous - even though he's an adult now.

Jeff

sfw:

He's a rock. Your rock, but still a rock. I don't imagine it's easy to get him all empathetic, but he's still there for your struggles.

Encourages more of an activity - cooking a meal together, smoking, whatever it may be.

nsfw:

I'll be honest, I think sex with him is very primal and animalistic. He's not too keen on you cleaning yourself up immediately after, so if you're cuddling he'll try to convince you to sit in it.

Obviously he won't force you, he just thinks it's hot when you get physically exerted over something. It plays into this dynamic of sneaky, taboo sex where you get off and then go along with your day pretending nothing happened. Might not be there emotionally, but again - he'll ask if you want to go out and do something.

Liu

sfw:

He definitely feels with you the most. Whatever emotions you're going through, he parrots them very easily.

A back rubber. Just constantly running his fingers over your back in gentle caresses. Wipes your tears gently, if you have any. Pokes your cheeks when you smile.

nsfw:

In regards to sex, Liu always makes you a cup of tea after. He's narrowed down your preferences (but I always like to think he'd give you unsweetened peppermint tea - unless you don't like it).

Prefers silent cuddles after sex. Usually this lasts for about half an hour (unless it's right before bed.)

Nina

sfw:

You probably fell asleep while watching movies or something. The movie is still playing when you wake up.

A moment for self-care and pampering. Pedicures, facials, and backrubs. Real stereotypical "girl" stuff - even if you aren't a girl. She wants the sleepover experience with you.

nsfw:

I imagine her aftercare for sex is very similar.

She doesn't want you to dress, but if you do, she insists you wear a cute matching robe with her and fuzzy slippers.

Lots of pillow talk - she really isn't content with just being quiet and cuddling.

[patty-08]

Saw by touch

spencer reid x f blind!reader

warnings: kidnapping, blood, death

Author’s note: I'm not blind and English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Darkness. I was used to the dark, but this was different, it was quiet but at the same time so loud and scary. I was in a room that wasn't too big, and from the quiet squeaking and dripping sounds, I assumed I was in the basement. Apart from the rats, I was alone. Tied to a chair with dried tears on my cheeks, dehydrated and hungry. I stopped crying and begging for him to let me go some time ago. I don't know how long it has been since my kidnapping. At the beginning, I tried to count, but it didn't work out. A man kidnapped me and since then he came to me three times, he didn't do anything, he just stood there and watched me begging him to let me go. Then I heard the door open.

'hey, we had a good time together, but it has to end' he was nervous.

I knew what the end meant. Death.

'hey... you don't have to do this, you can just let me go, I don't even know what you look like... I won't tell anyone' I tried to calm him down

'I am not stupid!' I flinched at the sudden shout 'if I let you go, you'll go to the police right away' then I felt a blade on my neck.

'no, I won't go to the police, we can just forget about it, you don't have to do it' now tears were streaming down my face

'shut up, shut up!' he pressed the blade a little harder and I felt warm blood trickle down my neck

suddenly the door opened with a bang and I heard

'FBI' immediately feeling a slight relief, there is still hope

'Ronald, get away from her and get on the ground,' said one of the male agents

'no, if I do this, I'll go to jail' said Ronald, as I've learned, pressing the knife harder from stress.

'and if you kill her you'll end up in jail or we'll shoot you... just let her go'

'no' he moved the blade against my neck and almost at the same time I heard the gun go off.

'hey hey you're okay, everything will be fine' said the same agent while pressing something to my neck to stop the bleeding while in the background I heard another agent calling an ambulance.

'I-' I tried to say something

'calm down... don't say anything, my name is Spencer, the ambulance is on its way' he tried to calm me down

After about two minutes of listening to Spencer's soothing voice, the ambulance arrived and as the paramedics took me away on a stretcher and before I lost consciousness, I only managed to whisper

'Thank you'

I woke up to the faint beeping of machines

'hey' it was Spencer

'where am I?'

'in the hospital, it's over' he reassured me

'and Ronald?'

'he died' he replied almost immediately 'he won't hurt you anymore'

'thank you... for saving'

'it's my job'

'still, thank you... can I touch you?... I mean, I-I know your name and voice, but my eyes are replaced by hands and I would like to know what my savior looks like' I stuttered a little

'yy- I- sure' he came closer, offering me his hand

from his hand my hands went towards his face, gently examining it.

'I have light brown eyes and light brown hair,' he said helping

he was beautiful, I knew it even when I saw him by touch.

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 4]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

You were half asleep on Seonghwa's shoulder, on the way to the restaurant. Jongho was the designated driver for today, going around to pick everyone up before going to the restaurant.

"So, did you have fun last night? Getting to know the owner?" Wooyoung turned around from the passenger seat with a teasing smile. You shot him a weird look while Seonghwa kicked the back of his seat.

"I know you're older, hyung. But I will kick you out if you do that to my car again." Jongho threatened as he drove.

"We're here." He parked the car. You got out, pulling your hood up tiredly. Seonghwa quietly strolled beside you, his arms tucked into his coat pockets.

"Yunho gave me the passcode." You yawned and keyed in the passcode.

"He's not coming?" Seonghwa asked.

"Not this early. He looked tired yesterday and stressed out after trying to help me with the prep. Anyway, it'll be much faster with just 4 of us doing the prep and baking." You shrugged, opening the door.

"What did you guys make yesterday?" Wooyoung tilted his head while Jongho turned the lights on.

"Blackberry apple tuile in the dehydrator, made the shortcrust pastry for the tartlets and marinated the pork medalions for dinner service." You informed. All of you hung your coats up in the small storage room and got to work right away. With aprons on and tools laid out, you all knew what to do immediately.

"State what you're taking on so we can keep track of things." You called out, a sharpie in hand and a piece of paper in front of you.

"I'll get started on the red velvet cake batter so we can get it in the ovens and cooled in time for icing." Jongho said, heading into the walk in with a big bowl to gather ingredients.

"Guess that leaves me on the palmiers first." Wooyoung pulled his sleeves up.

"Shall I do the cheesecake?" Seonghwa asked. You nodded and crossed out the item on the list.

"I'll continue with the tartlets then. Speak up if you need help." You retrieved the base dough from the fridge and the mini tart shells to begin blind baking them.

When Yunho came in, about an hour after you, with Mingi, Hongjoong, Yeosang and San, they were all greeted with the amazing smell of sugar, butter and vanilla filling up the restaurant space.

"Damn, I'm hungry." Mingi said.

"I need them to sign the contracts." Yunho walked in with the manila folder tucked under his arm. The boys, except Hongjoong, curiously followed behind him, wanting to catch a glimpse of the crew that was behind the amazing smells.

"Good morning!" Yunho smiled. All 4 of you turned to the group at the door with acknowledging nods before focusing back on your own tasks in front of you.

"Sorry to interrupt. I have the contracts for all of you to sign." He cleared his throat.

"Sure." You all stopped momentarily to gather.

There was a moment of silence as the 4 of you read through the contract that Yunho gave out. Meanwhile, the other boys with Yunho were staring at you, the way you exuded coolness.

"Here's a pen." Yunho held out the pen to you. You were the first to sign. After that, Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho followed suit.

Just like that, you handed the contracts back to Yunho and broke apart to your own areas of the kitchen.

"Yunho." You stopped the owner in his tracks. You nodded over to the main prep table in the middle and he walked over, tilting his head curiously. The other boys stood behind him. There was a tray that you brought over, with some red-purplish stuff on it. You lifted a piece to Yunho.

"Thank you but what is this?" He bowed his head gratefully but was still confused. You gestured for him to take a bite. He did and his eyes widened with excitement.

"Is this what we made yesterday?!" He beamed.

"Yes. Blackberry, apple tuile with thyme." You said. Yunho held the small piece between his fingers, like it was a piece of gold.

"Wow. I helped make this." He said in awe. You hummed, amused at how stunned Yunho was.

Yunho took your appearance in. You weren't just wearing an apron like yesterday, there were tweezers sticking out of pockets, a timer clipped to your sleeve and two towels hanging on the string.

"I'm (y/n). That's Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho." You suddenly spoke, pointing to each person on your team that was busy.

"I'm Mingi. This is San and Yeosang." The other tall guy introduced. You figured they would be the wait staff.

"Excuse me. Hot tray coming through." Wooyoung said, taking a tray of palmiers out from the oven. The boys shrunk back behind Yunho, jumping out of the way. You turned back to focus on your tartlets, making the custard that will go under the strawberries.

"We'll be out of your way." Yunho quickly said, ushering his friends out. They were disappointed they were not offered any samples of food like Yunho was.

"My cakes are still in the oven but shall I start on the madeleines? We'll put them in once we have oven space." Jongho asked.

"Yes. Are you done with the cheesecakes, Hwa?"

"They're in the oven. I'm open now, do you need help with the tartlet assembly?" He walked over, drying his hands. You nodded and he laid everything out for you.

"Make the gelatin glaze?" You requested. It will be tart shell, with a thin layer of strawberry jam at the bottom, then vanilla custard over the top and a mix of fresh strawberries and basil on the top.

"Last batch of palmiers in." Wooyoung announced.

"Get started on the yuzu loaves please. We need them cooled for the drizzle." You replied. He gave a thumbs up. Meanwhile, San and Mingi have been peeking in, they were both mesmerised by the way you worked with your team. Mingi's parents owned a restaurant but he had never seen people who this way in a kitchen before.

"You two! We need to start setting up before opening." Hongjoong grabbed them by the back of their necks to drag them to the front counter where Yunho was.

"I'll be on coffee." Mingi said.

"I'll help you with that." San raised his hand. Hongjoong would be managing the cashier while Yeosang will serve customers.

"Yunho should float, introduce yourself as the owern." Hongjoong suggested. The others nodded in agreement and Yunho hummed. Soon, the doors will be open and people will be here.

"Sorry to interrupt but we've decided not to serve this first yuzu loaf since it is a little lopsided." You said.

"What she means is, you guys can have it for breakfast before opening." Seonghwa clarified. The 5 boys immediately bowed.

"It smells so good." Mingi said in awe.

"Enjoy." You and Seonghwa went back to the kitchen to continue. The 5 boys crowded the yuzu loaf like vultures, digging into it with forks. They didn't even bother cutting into it to portion out, they went straight for it.

"Oh my god... It's so good." San melted.

"Where did you find these people? This is amazing!" Yeosang said, eyes wide in surprise on the taste.

"Not me, Hongjoong hyung." Yunho chewed his food. Hongjoong smirked proudly. They didn't realise that you were watching them in amusement, especially when they fought over the last piece.

"What are you watching?" Jongho tilted his head when he saw you loitering at the kitchen entrance.

"They're fighting for the last bit of Wooyoung's yuzu loaf. Like seagulls fighting for the last shrimp." You chuckled.

"You look like you're watching television." Wooyoung laughed.

"It feels like I am." You replied. You walked away to continue your task. Once the fresh strawberries were mixed with basil, you spooned them over the custard layer.

"Done. You can jelly glaze them." You told Seonghwa. He nodded and brushed over the gelatin mixture which will make the fruits look shiny and glossy. When each item was done, you put one piece of each item on a plate to bring it out. Most importantly, you wanted Yunho to try them to get his opinion.

"This is a piece of each item. You've had the yuzu loaf. This is lemon poppy seed madeleines, strawberry basil tartlets and palmiers. For the cakes, New York cheesecake and red velvet." You explained.

"The yuzu loaf was super good, by the way." San smiled.

"I'll be sure to tell Wooyoung." You gave a nod. After that, you retreated back to the kitchen.

"Wait, strawberry basil? Like the thing on pizza?" Mingi blinked, realising one of the treats that you had just brought out to them. This time, Yeosang cut up each item.

"Oh my... Okay, this is my new favourite." Hongjoong covered his mouth as he chewed, pointing at the red velvet cake.

"This seashell cake things would go so well with coffee." Yunho said as he took a bite.

"Ah! Okay, let's quickly finish up and clear the counter. We're opening in 30 minutes." Yunho panicked, realising the time. His heart suddenly lurched and his stomach churned uncomfortably, he was getting too nervous and anxious.

"Let's do a final sweep." Yeosang and San grabbed the brooms to clean the floors while Mingi and Hongjoong went around to wipe the tables and chairs.

"I'm going to... get stuff." Yunho said to his friends and walked away. From the corner of your eye, you watched him cross the kitchen and enter the walk in fridge, closing the door behind him.

"Nervous?" Yunho jumped when you appeared. Your arms crossed and your eyebrows raised.

"Yeah... It's finally happening... And I just don't want it to fail." He hung his head down, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Why do you think it will fail?" You cocked your head to the side. The stoic look on your face made Yunho confused on whether you were asking a rhetoric or not.

"It's my first time doing this, clearly I've not been the efficient restaurant owner. I was supposed to do this with my grandmother. This was her dream. And if I waste it, I'll never forgive myself." He shook his head. There was a silence in the walk in fridge until Yunho heard you let out a soft sigh.

"You've said it yourself. This is your first time. It's a learning process and you'll still continue to learn. Your grandmother must have believed in you to give your this opportunity." You said.

"All that you have done, it is not a waste. What is a waste is you panicking here in the walk in when the place hasn't even opened yet."

"You're right..." Yunho nodded.

"Don't scare yourself with the negatives of what can go wrong. Go in with a fresh, open mind, be excited for what can happen and the positives." You advised.

"Thank you, (y/n)! I'll go out now and open." Yunho grinned happily and ran out. You walked out.

"What?" You blinked, seeing the 3 boys staring at you.

"Naughty (y/n). With the boss? On day 1? In the walk in?!" Wooyoung teased with gasps. You rolled your eyes, throwing your tea towel at him as you went back to your station.

"Are you good?" Seonghwa asked softly, coming to stand next to you. You looked up at him and nodded. He pulled you in to gently stroke your head. You all finished up the rest of the cafe confectionaries, getting some extras ready in case they sell out.

"Take a small break everyone. Get a drink, we can observe the cafe opening. Then we'll start cleaning and discuss dinner service." You instructed.

"Okay." The 3 replied, putting all their used dishes together to clean later on. Wooyoung and Jongho went out to get coffee at the front of the house, where Mingi and San were.

"Want a drink that's not coffee? They have ades." You laughed.

"Sure." Seonghwa walked out with you. You were just in time to see Yunho open the doors and flip the sign to open.

You watched with a small smile, Yunho grinned as he greeted the first customer that was already in the queue. There wasn't a large queue but people must have been curious seeing the posters around.

"Here." Jongho handed you a coffee.

"Thank you." You received it and took a sip. The boys went back into the kitchen first while you continued to linger around.

"Sorry, can I make a drink for Seonghwa? He doesn't drink coffee." You asked.

"Of course. Want us to make something?" San offered. You shook your head, grabbing a glass and whatever you needed. You didn't want to break their momentum when orders were already starting to come in from customers. After mixing a drink for Seonghwa, you moved out of their way.

"Here, Hwa. I mixed the tropical fruits and topped it up with soda." You handed the glass to him.

"Thanks." He patted your head and took a sip before continuing his cleaning. There were two sinks so you all just took turns cleaning up. While waiting your turn, you wiped down your station.

"I'm craving a reuben." Seonghwa said.

"Reuben? Nah, monte cristo for me." Wooyoung laughed.

"What's with both of you craving sandwiches all of a sudden?" You scoffed while rolling your eyes.

"Basically they want to make ham and salt beef for our next cooking get together." Jongho spoke, going to keep the leftover ingredients in the walk in.

"It has been so long since we've made those two things... I don't know if I remember how to..." You scratched your head.

"Liar." All 3 boys coughed.

"You know what? You make your own ham and you, make your own salt beef." You glared at them. Wooyoung dried his hands while laughing, coming over to hug your arm.

"My precious (y/n), you've made things so many things more complex than ham and salt beef that you saying you've forgotten how to make it is a joke. You aren't fooling anyone, especially any one of us." Wooyoung pinched your cheeks.

You swatted his hands away and went out to see how the cafe was doing. Most of the tables were filled, with customers enjoying the drinks and food.

"Oh, (y/n)!" Yunho jumped when he turned around and almost bumped into you.

"I didn't think so many people would show up." He said. You hummed, nodding your head as you continued to look around.

"The confectionaries are moving fast. Everyone likes all of them." He blurted out with a big grin. Honestly, Yunho had to urge to hug you and thank you for helping him at the start, in the walk in.

"Told you. Worried for nothing." You looked up at him but your face didn't show that you were teasing or making fun of him for his nerves earlier.

"You were right." He nodded in agreement with a shy smile.

"Umm, excuse me." A customer stood at the counter and you nodded over for Yunho to go. He went to attend to the customer while you went back into the kitchen.

"Ah! I need a break." Mingi complained as he entered after you.

"It's only been an hour." Jongho stated.

"Let's discuss our dinner menu and break for the day." You said as the 3 gathered around you at the kitchen island, ignoring Mingi. But Mingi stuck around, curious to listen in.

"Let's do the pork tenderloin medallions with cherry madeira sauce. I'm not sure how the crowd will be so let's not accompany it with the risotto this time since those are cooked to order. We'll do a parsnip puree as the starch component. Then a roast chicken with gochujang butter under the skin." You said.

"What's the starch for the chicken?" Seonghwa asked.

"We should do mixed roast vegetables. They can sit under the chicken as the trivet and they'll roast in the chicken fat- butter mixture." Wooyoung suggested.

"For seafood, we'll do a cioppino with crusty bread? We got some shellfish and we'll cook that with the monkfish." You said.

"I think we should have a pasta option." Jongho voiced out.

"Let's do miso butter tagliatelle with mixed mushrooms and borttarga." Seonghwa decided. The rest of you nodded then discussed some simple appetisers to make.

"Two desserts. One light, one heavy." You told them,

"I would say we do something simple. Panna cotta with raspberry coolis. Then bukkumi with makgeolli ice cream." Jongho suggested.

"That's a good idea. One western and one korean dessert." Wooyoung agreed. You hummed and wrote it down on the paper. Mingi quietly left the kitchen.

"What's with that look?" Hongjoong asked him when he came out.

"I just listened in on the kitchen team plan tonight's dinner menu. Like wow, I want one of everything they're preparing. It all sounds so good and amazing." Mingi said, star stuck like he had just witnessed greatness or a celebrity.

"Get back to work. There are customers that need service." Yeosang waved everyone back to their stations. Wooyoung came out.

"Yunho? Do you have time for us to quickly discuss the dinner menu before we leave for the afternoon?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Yunho nodded and left Hongjoong to the cashier as he entered the kitchen. When he entered, he immediately noticed you weren't there. He wanted to ask where you went.

"This is what our team discussed earlier." Jongho handed Yunho the paper where you had been scribbling on earlier with sharpie.

"Sorry, you might need to explain all this to me." He apologised with a sheepish smile.

"Sure." Wooyoung, Jongho and Seonghwa explained all the dishes to him, the components, how they will be cooked, etc. However, Yunho was slightly distracted by where you were.

You were actually standing outside in the cold, taking in some fresh air. After a stint of cooking, you usually wanted to get some fresh air on your own with peace and quiet, away from the busy kitchen. That's why the 3 usually let you be and gave you the space that you wanted, for as long as you needed.

He wondered if you were okay. But if your friends were not worried, Yunho shouldn't be.

"I'm ready. Let's go when you're done." You poked your head in to tell the boys and left without acknowledging Yunho. To be honest, you didn't even see him.

"Thank you for coming in so early. I'll see you all tonight." Yunho bowed to them.

"No problem." Seonghwa smiled.

"See you." Wooyoung said and the 3 bowed before exiting the restaurant. Yunho watched from the window as you waited for them by Jongho's car. Seonghwa wrapped an arm around you.

"I'm tired." You leaned against him, mumbling like a grumpy toddler.

"Yes, let's all get some sleep. We have a long dinner service ahead of us." Seonghwa chuckled and ushered all of you into the car.

~

Series masterlist

[dontforgetukraine]

Tetiana, 73, in her basement in the front-line city of Toretsk, Donetsk Oblast, on July 3, 2024. (George Ivanchenko / The Kyiv Independent)

A basement in the front-line city of Toretsk, Donetsk Oblast, on July 3, 2024. (George Ivanchenko / The Kyiv Independent)

Life in the basement

His friends and colleagues have evacuated, and his family has gone: “My mom was sick, there was no heating in winter, so I sent her to Dnipro for free treatment. Then she died. Now I’m alone, I have no one left.” “I don't believe the radio – I believe only my eyes. This has been going on for 10 years now, and I don't know where it will end.” In the next basement room, where 73-year-old Tetiana lives with her daughter Oksana and an elderly neighbor, a woman's voice, speaking Russian, is just audible on the radio. ”We listen to anything, just to hear something. I'm grateful to my neighbor because he made a battery-powered radio, otherwise we'd be like moles here. You could go crazy just listening to explosions,” says Tetiana. Tetiana now takes care of dogs and cats that people left in their apartments when they fled the city. “I have eight dogs here, and I don't know how many cats,” she says. “I feed as many of them as I can find – I can't even count them. They’re all hungry and dehydrated. I go out to feed them and run into the bushes if there's a drone flying. It's very scary. But what can I do? I feel sorry for the animals too.” Tetiana previously worked at a sanitary inspector’s office, and her daughter worked in a mine, maintaining flashlights and lanterns for the miners. “I don't think about anything, I don't want to think about things – I don't want to be sad. We think about staying alive. We’re on the brink.” She starts to cry. “We’re on the brink. But I can't leave the animals behind.” The women have some food and water, but not enough candles and batteries for their flashlights. Their phones are all dead, and anyway there’s no cellphone signal here. They try not to leave the basement because of the constant attacks. “Shells and drones are falling all the time, and the worst things are the warplanes. Warplanes and artillery,” says Tetiana.

Source: Land on fire: Russia's offensive in Donetsk Oblast brings destruction to new towns (Photos

[raina-at]

In Vino Veritas

Sherlock remembers having heard this somewhere, that wine brings out the truth.

He doesn't know if that's remotely true, but it does seem to have brought out something.

Moments ago, John's hand was on his knee, and the soft firelight painted him golden and warm. Moments ago, Sherlock felt all the ridiculous affection he has for John well up in his heart and spill over. Moments ago, he smiled and put his hand over John's.

Things got a bit blurry, after that, and now...

Now John is straddling him in his chair, John's hands are buried in his hair and they're kissing. Snogging, really. There's lots of tongue, and it's sloppy and imperfect and Sherlock wants to die, it's so good. John feels absolutely divine pressed up against Sherlock, and Sherlock lets his hands wander all over John's back. John tastes of whisky and desire, of forbidden fruit and every long-denied sensory pleasure.

John tastes of whisky.

John is drunk.

Sherlock is drunk.

Sherlock pulls back and pushes John away. "Stop."

John pulls away and Sherlock can see him blink himself back to reality. He looks at Sherlock, messed up and mussed from kissing and devastated. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I know you don't... I don't know what I was thinking."

"You're drunk," Sherlock points out. "And so am I."

"I'm sorry," John says again, looking at Sherlock with such sadness, such heartbreak. "I'm sorry, I know you don't do this, it'll never happen again, I'm-"

Sherlock puts a finger over his lips. "You're drunk," he says, softly, because he can't let John go on thinking that Sherlock doesn't want this. He wants this more than his next breath. But he wants it to be real, and not just some drunken lark. "You're engaged. I can't..."

The expression on John's face is difficult to read, but his smile is soft and delicate and lovely. "And what if I wasn't? What if I was single, and stone cold sober and came back and kissed you again?"

Sherlock swallows, meeting John's hungry, hopeful eyes. "Then..." he says, leans up and presses one soft kiss to John's lips.

John smiles. "I have to go now."

*-*

Sherlock has a monstrous headache. He fell asleep on the sofa, in his clothes, and he doesn't quite remember everything that happened last night. But he does remember John kissing him. Or him kissing John. He's a bit fuzzy on the details. But he remembers hands in his hair and hungry eyes on his, and he remembers telling John he won't take John drunk and horny. He'll only take him sober and fully aware of what he's doing.

He makes himself tea and toast and drinks about a litre of water. Then he sits in his chair and contemplates his life choices. He doesn't feel very good about most of them right now.

The door to 221 opens and closes.

Sherlock would recognise John's tread on these stairs if he was deaf, blind and stupid. Well, he feels pretty damned stupid right now, but there's nothing wrong with his senses whatsoever.

He stands up, prepares himself for the inevitable. A gentle rejection, a plea to forget this ever happened. Or an angry accusation, a demand never to speak to John again.

There's a knock on the door. Tentative and hesitant.

"Come in," Sherlock says roughly, his voice not entirely recovered from the dehydration of the alcohol. At least that's the reason he gives himself for how unsteady his voice is.

John opens the door. He looks at Sherlock, an unreadable expression on his face. He takes a step closer. Another step. Another, until he stands right in front of Sherlock.

"So what were the criteria again?" he says, with a small, hopeful smile. "Single, and sober, and here?"

Sherlock feels his lips stretch into a smile as he feels the knot of anxiety in his stomach dissolve into relief and happiness. "Something like that."

"And what did you promise me in return?" John asks, his smile now tender and happy and positively glowing.

"This," Sherlock says, and leans down for a kiss.

Thank you so much @calaisreno for the tag and the prompt. Thank you so much for giving us prompts and writing lovely, beautiful, brilliant ficlets every day. 😍😍😍

PS I kind of hate myself for not doing a "It's a truth universally acknowledged" beginning, but I do owe you all two ficlets (I skipped two days), so I think I'll do a bonus one with extra fluffy Bakers.

Tagging a few people: @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @jrow @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @thetimemoves @catlock-holmes @discordantwords @topsyturvy-turtely @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight and anyone else who wants to play.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Seeing Double

Author’s Note: This is Mer-Trai’s debut! I hope that you enjoy the fic! :D Next

Tagged: @bleedingichorhearts @kit-williams @the-pure-angel @egrets-not-regrets

Warnings: mention of torture, bodily mutilation, concussion, dehydration, worship, wounds

Summary: Trai is rescued by a saintly baseline human.  

Pain and exhaustion greet him when he wakes. They are old, familiar foes, and hunger joins as he slowly blinks his way to full awareness. He finds himself where he had been the past... He's not entirely sure how long he's been here, but this too, he will survive. The aching pain in his head has not gone away, and some of the wounds that his captors gave him the last time they'd graced him with their presence had not fully healed. 

Given that he hasn't been fed for as long as he's been captured, the fact that he isn't healing as swiftly as he used to be isn't surprising. The gods grant him the patience and strength to weather this trial. His brothers will find him, he just needs to wait. 

The large gold and red mer stares into the too-bright lights, the electric buzz not helping his headache any. His breathing is measured and shallow as he closes his eyes again, trying to conserve what little energy he has, as his wounds itch and burn as they slowly heal. 

Trai deliberately does not allow himself to flinch as the door to his cell slams open. He is not a wide-eyed neophyte who startles at the sounds of his captors' trying to torment him. 

He bears his teeth - his armor having long been stripped of his body by his human captors - and hisses as a small, cool hand touches his tail, just above where one of the metal stakes had been buried through his flesh, pinning him to the metal table he'd been strapped to. 

"Oh... You're alive... Oh fuck! Hey guys! I found a live one! We're going to need a medic!" The human who had the gall to touch his tail shouted- causing his headache to spike most unpleasantly. "Oh... Oh buddy... Do you know this language? Please look at me and either say something or blink once if you do understand me."

Trai opened his eyes, sending the human - humans? He could see two of them, standing one slightly to the left of the other, mirror images of one another that moved at the -

Ah. 

Concussion. Wonderful. He opened his mouth, revealing the fact that his tongue had been cut out - and cauterized, to further slow healing of the appendage, as he had cursed his captors with some very entertaining miseries for the gall to torment him as they had been. He deliberately blinked up at the two-maybe-one human(s).

"Oh... Oh they... Okay, I'm going to use these pliers to get the... Get the... The stakes pinning you to the table out. We've arrested the people who've been running this place. Please don't attack me, though it will hurt when I pull these things out of you." The human(s) said in unison. "After that... I have some of the nutrient paste that space marines really like, and a bottle of water. Are you hungry?"

Yes, he definitely had a concussion... And was quite possibly hallucinating or dreaming. This was a nice dream, even though he'd rather his brothers be the ones rescuing him, rather than more fucking baseline humans. Trai gamely and deliberately blinked once while maintaining eye contact with the human(s). The mention of food and water was enough to get him to smile hopefully. He stayed still as the little goddess before him industriusly freed him from his bonds.

He held in his hisses of pain as best as he could, and she made worried noises as he began to bleed sluggishly from where he had been pinned to the table. With considerable effort, Trai activated his ability to swim through the air, slowly and painfully pushing himself into an upright position. He sniffed the air, her distress and determination clear to him. he could also smell the nutrient paste in his pockets and lightly tapped at the pocket with teh food with a clawed hand, careful not to piece the flimsy cloth, staring down at her pleadingly.

"Right, food." She responded, pulling out the tube of nutrient paste and holding it out to him.

Trai crooned out in wordless thanks, though his useless, trembling hands could not keep hold of the tube - then again he probably had nerve damage from the eight holes bored clear through each arm from those fucking stakes that had been drilled through his body until moments ago. He peered down at her, humiliation, desperation and hope warring for dominance on his face. He'd heard whispers that some humans were brave enough to hand-feed astartes they were comfortable with, despite many space marines having wickedly sharp teeth.

She nimbly caught the tube before it could fall to the ground. Disappointment and worry flashed across her face, before determination set in. "Okay. You don't seem to be able to hold onto the tube by yourself right now.. Uhm... If you crouch down a bit, I can feed you? If you want that? I could also squeeze some of it out onto the table, if you'd rather eat it that way?"

Trai shook his head slowly, one clawed hand going up to his head as nausea and dizziness plagued him at the motions. He opened his mouth and hunched over her, trying not to seem threatening. He was so, so hungry, and this little goddess had already helped him tremendously.

"Okay! Feeding  you it is." His lovely goddess chirped up at him. She was easily able to open the cap and remove the purity seal before squeezing a small mouthful into his waiting jaws.

Trai whined before slowly closing his mouth and swallowing. He wanted more than that little bit... But given the way his stomach cramped at that small amount of food, perhaps starting off the feeding slowly was for the best. Once the waves of nausea faded he opened his mouth again. 

This time he was rewarded by his goddess with a slightly larger mouthful of water. It was de-salinated, but he did not care as the cool liquid hydrated what was left of his tongue and soothed the worst of his ravaged throat. He didn't care that he was purring loudly, nor that he had started to lean on his little goddess as she continued to slowly feed and water him. Her kindness was boundless and her generosity endless. She was worthy of all the worship within his being. When his belly was filled as much as he could tolerate, and his thirst was quenched to the point of no longer trying to drive him to madness he closed his mouth again and did not open it, pressing his head against her cool shoulder, exhaustion and the need to allow his body to heal more fully took him over.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 4

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: none

The Deal

A few days passed. That first night, you were pissed and hungry. You hadn't been lying about having that jarred food for dinner. It was hard to scrounge up food. It took a lot of time to gather enough for a decent meal, even longer to hunt something, and you had spent that valuable time patching up a stranger. Not to mention you had already stolen from Mini that week, so you would feel bad about trying that again. The next day you had set a few traps that would hopefully prove fruitful today.

Surprisingly, you hadn't come across your two friends in that time. Maybe they already got picked up. You thought that was unlikely. The thought was disheartening, though thinking about the way Captain Kid had gotten on your nerves so easily, maybe it was better that you waited another few years for the next chance to catch a ride. 

Across the island, Kid had been puking his guts out for the past few days after unknowingly eating several different poison fruits. He had taken Killer and found a small cave to shelter in. Killer had woken up enough to drink some water every now and again. Neither of them were fairing well. Kid would be damned if he was going to ask that feral woman for help, however. He was actually pretty pissed that the Victoria Punk had yet to show up. 

"What the fuck are those idiots doing? IT'S BEEN THREE GODDAMNED DAYS." He laid back next to Killer. "I swear I'm going to kill Wire. Damned navigator." 

Kid hadn't realized he drifted off to sleep, until he was woken by his growling stomach. His mouth watered at the smell of something cooking. No, he wasn't giving in. She was probably doing this on purpose. That witch. That woman wouldn't win. His iron will lasted about 20 minutes before he was growling and muttering curses under his breath. Kid threw his coat over his shoulders and grabbed Killer, stomping off in the direction of the smoke wafting up towards the gradually darkening sky. 

The brush around your small clearing started to rustle. "Mini? Have you forgiven me?" The hopeful look you threw in the direction of the snapping branches fell from your face when you saw a different kind of beast come into view. Glaring at Kid, your eyes slid to Killer, where they softened. It was a little concerning that he wasn't a bit more conscious yet. "What do you want?" You already knew the answer but you wanted him to say it. Kid was practically drooling as you bit into the drumstick of some kind of bird. "Mmmm," you wanted to torture him a little bit more. 

Kid lowered Killer to sit up against a tree before placing himself between you and the fire. The purple-blue dark circles under his eyes contrasted sharply with the amber shine within them. Even as he squatted down in front of you, you still had to look up at him. Hands with chipped scarlet nail polish rested on his knees. "You know... I can just take what I want." Heat radiated from him. 

You took another bite and he frowned at your lack of reaction. "If you think you can intimidate me, you're wrong. I didn't make it this far being weak." You turned your head pointedly to the left, letting the orange glow of the fire illuminate the scarred skin on your face. Turning back to him, you saw his slightly sunken eyes and the way his pale skin clung to the underlying musculature. "Water," you offered, holding your waterskin out to him. "Make sure he gets some." You nodded to Killer. 

Kid snatched it from you and greedily chugged the majority, more due to sheer thirst than his normal asshole behavior, before trying to get Killer to drink some. Thanks to the convenient rip in his jeans where the initial injury was, you could tell from where you were sitting that the wound on his leg was healing nicely. Probably just getting more dehydrated. If you had any real medical equipment, this would be an easy fix.

"So is someone coming for you?" Or will I have to babysit for a while longer. 

Kid threw back your empty skin. "They should have been here already. We weren't that far from here and they have my vivre card for fuck sake," he growled. 

You licked the grease from your fingers in what you were sure was a less-than-ladylike manner. Leaning toward the fire, you grabbed the spit that was holding the remainder of the cooked bird. You ripped off the other drumstick and chucked it behind you into the woods. Kid looked like he might run after it for a second and was about to yell, but you cut him off. "It's for Mini. Only fair since I... borrowed some food from her." What was left on the spit you held towards Kid, pulling it back when he reached for it. Before he could light you up with curses, you cut him off, "I know you're too prideful to ask and I'm not giving anything away for free. So how about a deal?"

Next

[bellysoupset]

i DO have a crush on bella and PROUD. also somehow on vince and leo despite being a straight guy. they are up there with ryan reynolds

as for my request. this is the first time i request anyone anything but i was thinking any scenario where bell goes from hungry (or hangry) to stuffed :] if you don't want to write the hunger part because it's just not your thing that's fine honestly. i am a tummy noises enjoyer but it doesn't have to be hunger. that's preeetty much it. whatever context is fine as in if you want to take a break from whatever you have going at the moment and just write a casual meal between bella and luke or if you want to write it as a part of the main story either is cool with me

🍉 anon

AAAh I'm so happy over Vince making the roll of guys you have a crush on despite being straight!! My most special babe!! I'm definitely judging on Ryan Reynolds being up there tho. Ryan Reynolds?? 😵‍💫

This story might be a little too frankenstein, as it starts as Jonah and Leo part 4 and then goes into Bella/Luke.

...Hungry Bella to stuffed? Let's see what I can do about it:

--------

“I told Jonah I didn’t want any of you men in my hospital tonight and what do I get?” Wendy huffed, with her hands on her hips and Luke let out an amused snort, as he sipped his can of diet coke. 

“Sorry…?” He sheepishly, then let his smile fade as he looked over to where Leo was lying down, with an IV hooked to his arm. 

“It looks more scary than it is,” Wendy reassured him, as if she could read his mind. She walked closer, reading Leo’s chart hanging off the stretcher bed and then circling the bed so she was near his head, “he’s just dehydrated, I’m gonna inject some antinausea medication in his IV and we’ll let him finish the whole bag, then reevaluate. How’s Jon?”

“In a rough shape,” Lucas answered truthfully, continuing to pace the small space around Leo’s secluded corner. He wasn’t in a poor enough condition that the hospital allowed him to take up a room, instead they were in the ER, with the curtains creating some semblance of privacy between beds, “Bell’s there with him.” 

Wendy looked away from Leo’s IV bag, which she was already injecting with medicine, “you think he’ll end up here as well?”

“Hopefully not…” Luke scratched at his cheek, then chugged the rest of his soda, “but I don’t know, I’ll call Bella in thirty minutes to check on them.”

“Alright,” Wendy nodded, then her whole face turned red as Lucas unabashedly let out a burp in his fist, wrinkling his nose as the bubbles tickled it. She cleared her throat, looking away, “keep me updated, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he frowned a little at Wendy’s red cheeks, but shrugged it off. Certain things he didn’t want to know or think about. Instead, all of Lucas’ attention was on Leo. He hated to see the blonde so down for the count, it had been a struggle to drive him to the hospital and not freak out as Leo continued to dry heave most of the trip. 

“Buzz the button or just holler if something changes, you know the drill,” Wendy patted his arm, before walking away to deal with the other thirty people who demanded her attention. 

Luke walked closer to the bed, pushing Leo’s hair back with a sigh. It was the longest it had ever been, around his cheekbones, “you really can’t do anything in halves, uh?” Luke mumbled, sitting on the comfy large chair that every stretcher had accompanying it. He bounced his leg nervously, taking his phone out of his hoodie’s pocket. 

It was so annoying that Vin was four hours away, when he could be there to keep him company and keep Luke from going out of his mind with anxiety. Instead, he had to settle for texting him. 

Vince: So?? HELLO? You stopped answering, are they ok?? 

Vince: I texted Wendy bc u suck and she said Leo’s fine. 🤘🤘🤘

Vince: did they get rid of the middle-finger emoji? Duck that. TEXT ME about Leo. 

Vince: Lucas Howard Atwood.

He snorted at the dramatics, then texted back an answer, updating Vince on the nitty gritty details. 

After a couple more reassurances that both their friends were fine, Vin changed the subject to that week’s game, inviting Luke to come over to watch it with him and then went on to rant about some field trip he’d have to take with his coworker from hell, the chemistry teacher. 

Lucas knew damn well what his best friend was doing, keeping him distracted from the hospital atmosphere, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t working. He was so sucked in the texting, that it took him a minute to realize Leo was awake and watching him. 

Luke jumped as he glanced up and met blue, bloodshot eyes. 

“Christ!” He exclaimed, heart racing at the dead, scary stare, “don’t do that, you look like a fucking corpse, Leo!” 

“Uhm,” was Leo’s grunt in response, “feel like it… My head hurts…”

“How much?” Luke typed a quick “gtg, Leo’s up” and then pocketed his phone away, “one to ten?”

“I don’t know…” Leo rubbed at his eyes, then glared at the IV needle sticking out of his arm, gulping down thickly, “I feel like crap.”

“You look it,” Lucas pointed out humorously, moving closer, “do you think you could stomach some water?”

Leo immediately grimaced, shaking his head, “no… My tummy feels really weird,” his eyes closed for a second, “where’s Jon?”

“Back in the apartment,” Luke reached in without thinking, rubbing Leo’s arm, “Bella’s with him, he’s alright.”

“I poisoned him,” Leo pouted, turning his head and pressing his cheek to the back of Luke’s hand, “the guy organizes me the best birthday ever and I fucking poison him.”

Luke snorted at that, moving his hand to pet his friend’s hair and grinning when Leo nearly melted under the touch, sliding lower on the bed, “I don’t think he’s holding it against you,” he promised, “maybe he’ll just prohibit any outside food.”

“Probably,” Leo mumbled sleepily, “can they do something about the headache?” 

“I’ll check,” Luke whispered, squeezing his shoulder and walking out of the privacy of the curtains in order to find a nurse. 

When he did come back, Lucas had a nurse following him and his phone was buzzing in his pocket. He was fully expecting it to be Vince, so his stomach dropped when he saw Bella’s face across his screen. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked stepping out of Leo’s earshot and watching as the nurse questioned him about the headache, “is Jonah-”

“Hi,” Jonah answered and in the far distance Luke could hear Bella saying something teasingly about him being a worried mother, which one of them she meant Luke wasn’t sure, “is Leo alright? Is he awake? Did Wendy check on him yet?”

“Hi Jonah,,” Luke sighed in relief, “yeah, he’s fine. How are you? Did you drink anything? Leo’s super dehydrated.”

“I’m okay-”

“He threw up the gatorade,” Bella ratted him out, “we’re trying the nausea meds again.” 

“Amazing,” Lucas scoffed, not one bit amused, “maybe you should bring him here, baby-”

“He is right here!” Jonah cried out, “and I’m really fine, I was just burping too much. I know better now.”

Another little scoff from Bell, her mumbling something that Luke couldn’t make sense of, but that made Jonah tell her to shut up.

“How’s Leo?” Jon asked once more, stronger this time, “can I talk with him? Is he coming back? Did Wendy check on him? Let me talk with her-”

“He’s got a headache so they’re giving him some painkillers on top of the nausea meds,” Luke explained, glancing at where Leo was curled up on the bed, “he’s probably gonna fall right back asleep. Wendy checked him, yeah- Hold on, let me see if he’s still awake…” 

He walked closer to the bed and Leo blinked sleepily at him, his eyes squinted because of the pain, “is Jon alright?” Even sick as he was, his guessing skills were still sharp. 

“He wants to talk with you,” Luke whispered, “are you up for it?”

Leo nodded, but didn’t move, so Luke held the phone against his ear and cheek. The blonde let out a raspy sigh, “hi angel,” he whispered, “I’m really sor-”

Luke couldn’t hear Jonah, but he knew the guy had just bitten Leo’s head off for daring to apologize. The blonde snapped his mouth shut, taking a deep sigh, then answered his fiance, “I’m fine, Jon, I swear. Sore, nauseous, but I’m fine. Sleepy. How are you?”

More silence and Leo nodding along, “okay… Alright, get some rest then- I love you. I’m going home soon.”

Luke pressed his lips in an amused way. Only three hours without seeing each other and they were acting as if it had been a whole week. He waited until Leo was done speaking, clearly too tired to go on, then pulled the phone back. 

“Let me talk with Bell?” He asked, since it was still Jonah holding the phone. There was some fumbling around, then his wife’s voice answered him.

“Yeah?”

“How is he? Really?” Lucas fell back down on the big chair, squeezing Leo’s arm as the blonde started to drift back asleep. 

“Still really nauseous,” Bella answered truthfully, “but he’s keeping the meds down and was keeping gatorade down earlier. So I’m hopeful…” 

“Okay,” Luke yawned, “we’re gonna be back in three more hours. Please text me if something changes, Bell.”

True to his word, it was another three hours before Wendy released Leo, the blonde sound asleep. Another half an hour as Luke struggled to manhandle his sleepy friend back into the car and then up the apartment once more. 

Jonah was passed out on the couch, with Bella sitting by his legs and going through her phone, scratching his thigh up and down without thinking since his legs were on her lap.

“Hey,” she looked up as Luke stumbled in with a half asleep Leo, “you need help?”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, arm wrapped around the blonde’s waist and drunkenly guiding him down the hall, “get the blankets for me?”

Together they dragged both men to sleep in the bed, Lucas taking a minute longer, as he overdotted to his heart’s content, tucking his friends in and making sure they had water at reach and a bucket on each side. 

He left the door half open and walked out of the main suite. 

Bella was sitting in the living room, arms crossed over her stomach and a frown on her face, so Luke raised an eyebrow and walked closer, "what's wrong, baby?"

"I'm hungry," she sighed, "nothing to eat around here. I mean, nothing tasty."

Luke snorted, "didn't you bring groceries?"

"It's all for soup," Bella sighed dramatically, pressing her hands to her belly. It was empty enough that it was curving inwards slightly, a rare sight. While she was far from chubby, she was a bombshell and had the tummy to justify the amount of ass and tits. 

Luke circled the coffee table and sat down next to his wife, throwing his head back with a yawn and raising his arm so she could fall against his side, "order in?" he suggested, when Bella's stomach let out a loud growl. 

"It's past 11," Bella groaned, pressing her face to his chest and grabbing Luke's hand, moving it to rest on her stomach. He raised his eyebrows, he could feel the organ crying out for food, whining and growling, lightly vibrating under his hand, "there's no place open on iFood."

In times like these Bella hated their small, university town. Her tummy growled again, a snarling sound and she curled up, muffling a small empty-belly burp against Luke's chest, "I'm dying."

He snorted at that, pressing a kiss on top of her curls and his hand against her stomach. Lucas' hand was almost big enough to cover its expanse and the warmth and pressure helped a little. 

"I'll go get us dinner," he yawned and Bella looked up, feeling a pang of guilt. Lucas looked exhausted, after all the hauling Leo and Jonah around. Not only they were a heavy lift, but she knew damn well that hospitals always drained him, no matter how harmless the reason. 

"No, it's fine," she shook her head, "I'll get an apple or something, it's fine-"

"I'm hungry too," Luke reassured her, "how does pizza sound?" 

It sounded heavenly and her mouth immediately watered at the thought. She didn't even need to say anything, it probably showed in her face, because he chuckled and cupped her cheeks, pressing a kiss on her mouth and saying, "be right back."

Bella busied herself getting them settled. There was no way they were going home without knowing Jonah and Leo were 100% OK and she knew that the couple wouldn't mind them taking the guest room — not that Lucas cared about imposing himself. 

She made sure the house wasn't a mess, something that didn't come naturally to Bella but she knew Jonah would appreciate, the neat freak that he was. JD was following her around, clearly confused about her presence, so after cleaning everything up and checking on the two sick men - they were cutely cuddling in bed, both passed out - Bella sat back down on the couch and the cat promptly climbed on her. 

She wasn't the pets type of girl, had killed all of her goldfishes as a kid, but JD was too cute to ignore. The cat rubbed her head against her stomach, eyes squeezing into little black lines, then jumped back as Bell's stomach growled. 

The ginger snorted, "sorry, kitty," Bella scratched JD behind her ears, sliding down on the couch and planting her feet on the coffee table, "you're real cute, you know that?"

The cat probably did know that, given how much Jonah and Leo spoiled her. She purred, snuggling up on Bella's lap and pushing her paws on the woman's stomach, trying to shut up the incessant snarling. 

Bella continued to scratch JD, while grimacing as her stomach squeezed with hunger. She had no energy to be hangry, but had it been a different occasion she’d definitely be. She curled up on the couch and the cat moved so she could snuggle right between her breasts. 

“Excuse me, I think the cat is on my spot,” Luke commented, entering the apartment and getting a glimpse of the scene. His voice had the kitten running to greet him and Bella rolled her eyes at his comment, stomach hurting from how hungry she was. 

“Gimme, gimme, gimme-” she got up in a flash, tip-toeing to grab the pizza box that her husband was holding high, as if JD was genuinely able to climb him in order to get it. 

Bella didn’t even bother taking it to the kitchen or the dining room, she opened the box right there, breaking a piece of the cheese filled crust out and almost moaning as she finally got it in her mouth. Her tummy let out an angry growl, a pang of hunger echoing through it and she squirmed. 

“One would think you didn’t eat all day,” Luke commented, retrieving the box from her and taking it to the kitchen, making her groan in a frustrated manner and follow him.

“I know, but it’s almost midnight Luke. Last we had any food it was lunch…” She squinted at him, as Lucas dug through Jonah and Leo’s drawers in search of a knife, “unless you ate at the hospital.”

He had the decency of blushing, “Leo was asleep! There was nothing for me to do!”

“I hate you,” Bella whined, then took the knife from him and cut herself a slice, genuinely having to stop herself from drooling over the pizza. 

They sat by the kitchen counter, barely talking at first since she was too busy devouring the pizza, but slowly becoming more human. By the third slice Bella let out a heavy sigh and leaned back, undoing the buttons of her jeans and causing Luke to let out an amused snort. 

“Done?”

“Uhm, maybe,” she leaned back, wiping her fingers on a paper napkin and ducking her head, letting out a burp. Besides her, Luke chuckled at the noise and reached for his third slice, since he was eating slower than her. 

Bella sipped her drink — Sprite, because Lucas knew it was her favorite — and gave up at the idea of another slice. She could handle it, but it would probably leave her feeling horrible and after seeing so much puking all day, Bella didn’t want to try her luck. 

“Weak,” Lucas grinned, leaning in to steal a kiss, “really thought you were gonna have it all.”

“Thought so too,” she leaned in, licking off the salty residue of his bottom lip, “I’m gonna go change into something more comfy and check on the guys while you finish it up.” 

“There’s some sweats in the guest bedroom, but they might be too big for you,” Lucas nodded, closing the pizza box to put the rest away, “I brought a spare shirt, if you don’t feel comfortable wearing those.”

“I’m comfortable,” Bella shrugged, looping an arm around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek, “you’re the sweetest, most thoughtful husband I’ve ever had.”

“As opposed to your other husbands,” Luke grinned, turning his head so he could kiss her again and Bella smiled against his mouth, pulling back. 

Like Lucas had said, there was a dresser in the guest room, with some folded track suits and old clothes. They looked ridiculous on her and Bella chuckled to herself as she put on the pants and pulled on the cords in order to keep them from falling to the ground. The leg length was too long and she had to fold it twice. It was too warm for the long sleeves, so instead she decided to keep her bra for now and put on one of the tank tops.

She tiptoed to the master suite, cracking the door open and squinting until her eyes settled with the darkness. Jonah was on the right side and he hadn’t moved at all. Still flat on his back, with the blankets tucked around him, peacefully asleep. On his left, Leo had rolled around until his face met Jon’s bicep and he was curled up on himself. 

Bella frowned at that, walking further inside and circling the bed, so she could get a closer look at the blonde. She lightly touched his forehead, half expecting to feel a fever, but instead only clammy skin met her palm. His bucket was untouched, thank God.

“What are you doing?” Leo whispered, jerking slightly as she pushed his hair back.

Bella grimaced, “sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Are you feeling ok?”

“Better than before,” he moved on the bed, throwing an arm around Jonah’s waist and snuggling up with a yawn, “sore and tired.”

“Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?” Instinctively, she rubbed his back and Leo all but melted. He shook his head, yawning again. 

“No, just gonna go back to sleep…”

“Okay,” understanding she had just been dismissed, Bella leaned in to plant a kiss on his temple and got up, “Luke and I are in the guest room. Just shout if you need us.”

“Goodnight Bell…” Leo answered softly, falling right back asleep. 

Luke had already managed to clear up the kitchen and, unlike Bell, he hadn’t bothered changing into anything, just stripping down to his boxers and falling flat on top of the covers, pestering JD. The cat kept swatting him away like an annoying fly.

The guest bathroom had spare, never used toothbrushes, and finally Bella made her way to the bedroom. She hit the lights, but didn’t bother trying to get Luke to move, crawling over him on the mattress and falling against the pillows with a sigh. 

He stirred in the semi dark — the door was left half open, the hallway light was still on — then pressed his face to her stomach, planting a kiss there, “are they okay? Did you check on them?”

“They’re fine,” Bella’s hand moved to his hair and she combed through the messy waves. At this hour of the night Luke looked closely related to a mad scientist, “you’re gonna make me burp lying on my belly like that.”

“Uhm,” he shrugged, snuggling and sliding a hand under her oversized tank top in order to hug her closer. Lucas sighed heavily, exhausted and she moved her hand from his hair to the middle of his back, scooting up on the bed as his weight pushed up yet another burp, that she muffled on her fist. 

“Sleepy?” Bell whispered, grinning when she felt JD snuggling on her side as well. 

“Your stomach is lullabying me,” Lucas said with a huff, turning his face and pressing a kiss to her belly, “push me off if I get too heavy…” 

“Okay, baby,” she folded in the middle, kissing the top of his head, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[kit-williams]

Heartless Madness

The title is based off of a really cool powermetal song. I'm probably going to try and name most if not all after a powermetal song tbh.

tw: Yandere? (Might need a follow up fic), aftermath of rape, aftermath of torture, the Drukhari are here so yeah

This was a hard darling to come up with... as while I love Iron Warriors she had to be the right balance of interesting enough and made of tough stuff and also to be easily mailable/moldable. I might eventually do a "least yandere" poll and see who wins and either reworks that boy or just gives them a chapter serf darling. I'm doing civilian darlings because 1) More fun 2) more terrifying

Harram the Wallbreaker let his heavy lumbering steps kick up the dust on the cracked and torn pavement. They had replied to a distressed signal from this agriworld and the warband needed another world like this to keep the war machine going. In the midst of a Drukhari attack. The night was cold and quiet... till he watched a number of humans turn their heads to the East. "What is it." His voice rumbles out of his terminator armor.

"This is the second night we've heard a baby cry. We think it might be a Drukhari trap as all that has been observed over there were unfortunate victims dying." A man said.

Harram huffed out causing a billow of steam to leave at the same time of his huff making his armor look far more alive then it was. "Has anyone checked?"

"No my lord."

He turned to the East and began the slow march. If there was an ambush waiting to happen Harram was certain he could handle it and if there was a baby there still alive then perhaps they were made of sterner stuff... like iron.

He walked past naked bodies chained to the ground in various states of decomposition. All of them chained to the ground with some xenos looking bear trap like contraption. He turned the sensitivity of the audials up and he could hear the faint crying. How it would pause then start up again.

He stopped in the mist as the crying soon turned to laughter and he pushed his armor's capabilities to the limit. "Shh Ferum... no more tears... I know you're hungry... mommy has nothing left to give." He could hear her weak hums as he slowly walked closer.

He sees her on the thermals first and scrolls through all of the different settings to get the full picture as he walks closer. He can see maggots in the lashes across her back, one leg encased fully in the xenos torture device, blood and a high degree likelihood of xenos sperm paints her inner thighs, he can tell starvation and dehydration are setting in for her, and he can tell her hair was recently cut in such a jagged motion. Harram suspects for a trophy or for other things worse should she have been found... entertaining enough for the xenos.

"Has the Emperor answered my prayers?" She speaks so softly as he watches her weakly turn her head. She ends up just rolling over, her watches her eyes close in pain as large grey eyes look at him with a tiny fist jammed into a small mouth. Ugly brusing paints her face, bite marks littering her breasts, less cuts on the front just far more bruising.

"No. He did not send me." Harram replies walking closer.

"You are one of his angels." She sighs in relief.

"I am not. I am something far worse." He tilts his head slightly thinking, "I am a devil... a fallen angel." He chuckles more to himself at his poetic nature.

"Still an angel." He sees her bloody smile. But he can see a look in her eyes ones of grim acceptance, "Have you come to save me? Or just take my baby?"

"Originally just for the baby." He notes the sad smile on her face as her eyes water and she just nods slowly petting his head. "But... I can take you too. What you will return to is not going to be the same."

"I've been changed by this... as long as whatever I return to is better than being raped by xenos I'll say that's an improvement." She bitterly laughs letting her tears fall. He watches the infant try to breastfeed once more. The exhaustion as Harram realizes the baby looks fed and hardly any exposure.

"I am going to contact my brothers to see how to remove this without removing your leg." He says watching her nod.

"Thank you dearest angel..."

Harram just sighed and talked with his brothers as he started to pull the pins in their specific order. He ignored the younger warrior's persistant asking of why he was even doing this. The child was more than healthy enough, simply take them and put the mother out of her misery... even if you ignored that they brought up the points of she would be in recovery for so long. Perhaps that was why Harram followed Endion he was considered sentimental amongst the Iron Warriors and left to start his own warband.

They all did not fit their genesires ideal vision of iron... but they were still of iron! He pulled a pin out to quickly earning a whimper from her throat as tears flowed from her eyes. "Please... I do not wish to be trouble."

"Do not speak mortal. I could have killed you if I did not wish to deal with this burden."

Esteemed terminator Harram. We have movement a few clicks north of you. It's the xenos!

Harram lifted his head as he heard her whimpers as she could hear the near silent thrum of their crafts. He pulled a decorative pelt from his shoulder off and covered her up with it. "Stay there. Do not move at all lest I crush you." He watched her pull her son to her chest and do her best to keep the infant safe with only her body to protect them. The pelt was to simply keep her out of the view of the xenos. "You will probably lose HEARING." He roared the only warning before the twinlinked bolter started throwing the explosive rounds down wind.

His leg joints locked in place, so he would be less likely to crush her and the babe. "Brother's I have started to engage."

"Are you being soft again, Harram?" He could hear Endion's warm voice suddenly connect to the vox channel.

He watched rounds connect with one of the small crafts as it was just a handful of the quick xenos. "No brother I am being like Iron!"

"What have you found then?"

"IRON!" The large chain sword slams down being lucky enough to catch one of them trying to run past and slice at his joints. He couldn't hear the infant screaming over the scream of the chains. He couldn't hear her broken sobs of begging to be killed then be hurt by them again. Harram was focused on the combat. "I have found Iron! I refuse to let them RUST!"

Harram has to unlock his legs to turn around and charge the cocky xeno. But his swings were too slow as the xeno was slowly peeling away sheets of ceramite. Not once during this exchange he thought that this was a tactical error... other brothers would see this as an error but then again they would also be as stubborn as he would be to claim the iron.

It screeched as he saw his Orichalcum, he questions not when he saw her as his, sitting up having thrown one of the knife like pins into it. The tired weak smile on her face is replaced by terror as she rolls to shield her child as it charges but that was enough time for him to slam into the xeno and start crushing it.

When he was done he turned to her watching her writhe on the ground as blood oozed out as in it's dying moment it must have activated the contraption. She looks up at him in pure pain as he pulls out his knife and watches it heat up. "Pray that you are made of Iron."

She bitterly barks, "I was an Iron worker!" She half screams, "I'm half metal shavings at this point!" She shrieks as he doesn't give her much time to think as he just removes the whole leg.

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

Iron was apart of her. His Orichalcum. And her son Ferum. He learned quite a bit about her during her recovery. She was an Ironworker and so was her dead husband. She had lost him before Ferum was born... meaning that Harram could focus his attentions upon her without any meddlers.

Endion had teased him about his fondness... but it had been so long since he found anyone he could call iron. Though Endion was hardly one to complain as Harram would find him stealing Ferum away and of course teased the warlord of entering his "nesting" phase again. To which he threatened to take his Orichalcum away... and Harram could only silently stew as he would not risk losing her to a far more... charming one of his bretherin.

"Oh hello Harri-ham." She said in a cutesy voice as she was busy feeding Ferum some baby food. "Sorry I was talking with him." She just say softly. Harram just huffed softly. "Hey Harram... I want to deeply thank you for saving my life and that of Ferum. I don't know how to repay you."

"You have no need to repay me."

"Well I was thinking that I should be good to go back home soon." She hardly noticed Harram stop in his actions of getting his own food before he turned around with a bowl in hand just shoveling some food into his mouth. "I don't want to be a burden on you any more than I already have."

"What of your nightmares?"

"I'm a big girl Harram I'll have to sleep alone eventually." She chuckles as whenever he has been in the room at night she ends up usually in his bed or asleep on the plush chair in his work room just afraid to be alone... or when the night terrors come back how he grounds her. And perhaps he had grown content with the small warmth in his bed... he had never understood while Endion would bring mortals to his bed.

Not till he had her under him begging for him to fuck the xenos touch away... to replace the repulsive feelings... to help her feel clean again. "What if I don't want you to go." Harram said a little darkly just watching her blink and look at him owlishly.

"I... I..."

"Just stay for a little while longer... I can help you get things ready for you to return to, yes?"

"Oh... alright." She says softly smiling at him not realizing that the simple goalpost of 'being ready enough to leave' would keep moving further and further... and he doubts she will complain... too much.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Tips For Mindful, Healthy Eating

Be mindful of the foods you keep at home: While I'm not a fan of restriction (especially of entire macronutrients), know yourself well enough to help yourself prevent binging on trigger foods that you start overeating when stressed, tired, etc. My rule of thumb is if I would be uncomfortable having 2 servings of something in a sitting, it doesn't belong in my fridge/freezer/pantry. Keep those treats for socializing or outside of the home.

Discover a selection of healthy meals, snacks, and staple items you love: Physical, nutritional, and emotional satisfaction are all essential to keep your cravings in check. Consider the 5 or so lunches/dinners you love and 1-3 breakfast options, at least 1-2 sweet and savory snacks (like fruit, popcorn, edamame, etc.) to create a simple rotation to keep you satisfied throughout the week. Experiment with different recipes/produce/spices/low sugar & low-fat condiments and seasonings to find what combinations taste the best to you.

Check-in with yourself before eating: Ensure that you're eating due to true hunger rather than feelings of boredom, stress, sadness, etc. If you have the urge to emotionally eat, try to get moving by shaking your arms, dancing around your room, taking a walk, etc. for at least 5-10 minutes before considering getting something to eat.

Enjoy mindful eating: Eat with as few distractions as possible. Take your time to enjoy the food. Take small bites, put your utensils down between bites, and chew slowly. Check in with yourself throughout the eating experience to reconnect with your hungry cues as you get through the plate or bowl of food. See if your hunger is decreasing and how full you feel throughout the experience. Make eating its own separate and enjoyable activity whenever possible.

Have indulgent teas, coffees, and fruit water on hand: Eat if you're truly hungry. But, for the times you're bored or stressed, having a vanilla or cinnamon tea, a cup of cold brew, or a lemon/fruit-infused water can satisfy your desire for some palette simulation

Don't get into a binge-restrict cycle: Allow yourself to eat when you're truly hungry, otherwise, you will overcompensate at a later date. A good litmus test to see if you're truly hungry is to reflect on whether multiple food options could satisfy your current desire for food. If only one food or unhealthy options sound desirable, you're probably experiencing a craving rather than true hunger.

Stay hydrated & get enough sleep: Drinking enough water and a full night's rest are essential to prevent energy crashes that increase your hunger and decrease your inhibitions to give into stress binges or choose unhealthy options. Always keep a glass of water by your side when working, watching TV, etc. to prevent dehydration or a general lack of fluids. Give yourself a loose sleep schedule with an hour or so grace period for your ideal bedtime and wake-up time for the workweek and the weekends.

Ensure you're meeting all of your vitamin requirements: Your body will naturally feel sluggish and more susceptible to cravings if you're not getting enough of certain nutrients on a regular basis. I always supplement with B12 and vitamin D as someone who's been vegan for over a decade. Make sure your diet incorporates nutrients like iron, magnesium, and zinc (common nutrient deficiencies).