#can you tell my fever is eating my alive

[user0sb]

i'm deathly sick so let me indulge myself. the bakugou brain rot has been STRONG this week.

bakugou who's tried everything to nurse your headache, but your fever is just too strong. he can't bare to see the tears streaming down your face from the pain, knowing he can do nothing to soothe it.

bakugou who doesn't even hesitate to call todoroki and ask him to come to your room because you need his right side to lower your fever.

bakugou who can't bring himself to feel an ounce of loathing or jealousy, not a single mean word leaving his mouth. he's too relieved to see your tears stop and breathing even out.

he even THANKS todoroki before he leaves. yeah, bakugou hates him, but if he could make you feel better maybe he's not all that bad.

[4o4notf0und]

.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Baby Fangs

Synopsis: Baby Alethaine is severely sick, and Astarion is afraid his daughter is going to die.

Tags: hurt/comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs

Alethaine's age: 5 month

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion has never been so afraid in his life.

Not when he was dying in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Not when he thought Tiriel had gone. Not when Cazador had inflicted tortures on him.

It just can’t compare to the fear of losing a child.

“She needs to make it till morning,” the healer says. “If she is alive by sunrise, she will get better.”

“But can we do anything?” Tiriel looks as if she is going to fight. “There are healing spells, potions, anything!”

“And most of them aren’t fit for a five month old child. Astarion, Tiriel, I give you my word. I’ve done everything I can. There are probably some clerics and wizards who can heal your child immediately but none of them live in Daggerlake. I am sorry.”

The healer walks away, leaving a dreadful silence in the house.

Astarion sits on the bed, clasping his hands together. Of course, things couldn't be this good. Of course something had to go wrong! How could he have been foolish enough to believe that things could be good for him?

His little daughter, Alethaine, is such a miracle, such a gift. When he first held her in his arms, he dared to hope that everything would be all right from then on. And now they tell him she's dying? That she would be dead by morning?

Alethaine whimpers weakly. She is already too tired to cry.

Tiriel looks terrible. She is a warrior, a fighter, but for the first time in her life, she has no enemy to kill. The enemy is her daughter's fever, and she can't beat it the way she beats monsters.

The baby starts coughing.

Astarion doesn't need to be a vampire to feel his daughter's pain. Her muscles are too tense. Her breathing is ragged and her heartbeat is too weak. Alethaine is suffering at this very moment, and there is nothing her parents can do about it.

Can’t give her medicine. Can’t soothe her pain.

There is a grip of death around her tiny heart and neither Tiriel nor Astarion can unclench it.

Tiriel sits on the bed, cradling Alethaine in her arms. Astarion wraps his hands around them.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

“We wait,” she answers. Her voice sounds exhausted.

He nods.

Yesterday, Alethaine was perfectly healthy. She tried to sit up, but each time her head proved too heavy and she fell on her back. Then her black eyes clouded over and a fever rose. She refused to eat and only cried like a wounded animal.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel doesn't answer and he sees tears flowing down her cheek. “We will keep living. Could you please bring a blanket?”

Astarion reluctantly lets them go and picks up a thick fur blanket from the floor. Then they sit together with their backs against the wall, covering their sick daughter with the blanket. Only a desperate cough echoes through the room.

Children die all the time. Mostly little kids like Alethaine. Daggerlake isn't a very big town, but Astarion knows that at least three babies have died this year. From disease. Small children like this are too vulnerable. It happens all the time.

There's a chance that tomorrow Astarion will have to dig a grave and put a tiny bundle in there that never had a chance to grow up.

It's so unfair that it makes Astarion want to howl.

"Astarion," Tiriel touches his curls. "Let's talk. The silence is killing me."

“What do you want to talk about, my sweet?”

“I don't know… Anything.” Tiriel places the girl in his hands and Astarion flinches sensing the heat of Alethaine’s body. Fever. A terrible killing fever. “Do you think she is a dhampir?”

“She is an elf like I was before I died.”

When Tiriel was pregnant, he read as much as possible about dhampirs. Deadly and fast, half-vampires don’t need blood and can live in the sun. But they have vampiric strength, can walk on ceilings, and regenerate much faster than mortals. No wonder vampires are often jealous of their children.

But at the same time, the life of a dhampir is full of hardships. Neither a vampire, nor a mortal, they are doomed to be alone. Once they feel bloodlust for the first time and fangs replace the canines, they are outcasts often disowned by their own mortal families.

But does it have to be like that? Astarion has been fighting the odds against his vampiric nature for the last twenty years. Why can’t his daughter?

But Astarion is afraid they will never learn the answer to either of their questions. Alethaine opens her mouth and makes a deep breath as if suffocating. Something doesn’t allow her to breathe and she makes hissing sounds. Her little eyes are watery - by this time she can only cry.

So can her parents.

“I wouldn’t want to, I think,” Tiriel says. “If she is dhampir it means she is alone. Even if other spawns have children too, what is the chance she will ever meet them?”

Astarion kisses Tiriel’s cheek. if Alethaine dies, they bury her and leave. Daggerlake is a welcoming town but it will be a place of sorrow for them.

Tiriel adjusts herself a bit.

“Fuck” she mutters. Astarion immediately smells the blood. Tiriel’s thumb is bleeding. “A fucking splinter.”

Alethaine cries at the top of her lungs.

Astarion stares at his daughter with shock. She screams with the strength they didn’t know she posseses. It’s desperate. Angry.

Demanding.

This moment she doesn’t sound like a child. She sounds like a little beast.

Before Astarion makes up any coherent thought, Tiriel puts her bleeding thumb to Alethaine’s lips, making the blood pour into her mouth.

“Tiriel, what are you doing?”

Tiriel doesn’t answer. The girl makes sucking movements as her mother squeezes drops of blood from her finger.

And then her dark eyes turn red.

They glow in the half-lit room like two tiny lights.

Tiriel puts her fingers away and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. Her elven ears twitch.

The eyes stop glowing so intensely and return to their natural black color.

And then Alethaine laughs.

She is kicking her legs and stretching her arms to her parents.

The girl is happy. Happy like a well-fed vampire.

“Astarion, look at her gums.”

Two baby fangs. Very small, almost kitten-like.

“It wasn’t a fever,” Astarion mutters. “It was a bloodlust.”

Of course… If she was older she would just try to get blood from somewhere.

But when you are five months old you can’t do a lot of things.

Poor girl, how she suffered those two days.

Is dhampir bloodlust the same as vampiric? Was she feeling her stomach being ripped apart, her throat hurting and bleeding? Maybe it was even worse for her? Maybe her mortal nature was fighting the bloodthirsty monster, causing Alethaine to cry in pain?

Helpless baby alone with her pain and fear while her parents didn't think of the most obvious explanation.

** Astarion sits at the doorstep with a plushie doll in his hands. The toy has white hair and elven ears, and now Astarion is stitching small fangs to its mouth.

The tears prickle his eyes.

He’s condemned his child for a life of hardships. For loneliness, for constant war against herself. If someday Alethaine shows up at his doorstep blaming him for all her tragedies, he will not even try to defend himself.

“No, kitten, I don’t care if you don’t like it! I can’t breastfeed you anymore and I am not giving you any blood! You eat normal food!” He hears Tiriel’s voice from inside the house.

Alethaine isn’t going to comply easily.

Then he hears footsteps from behind.

“What are you doing?” Tiriel asks.

“Adding fangs to her toy.”

Tiriel sits beside him.

“You have mash in your hair.” Astarion notices

“I know. You should see the other girl. How do you feel about giving her a bath?”

“I don't think you should ask. It’s my child. It seems like… even more mine now.”

“Hey, don't be upset. We knew it was possible.”

“I just… Her eyes, Tiriel, you saw them.They were like theirs… My siblings…Cazador… the same fucking glowing eyes as if she was a vampire, too!”

“It’s because of blood. She doesn’t have to drink it, she can eat normal food.”

“We should have found the cure before making a child.”

“But we didn’t find any.”

Tiriel takes a wet piece of rag and wipes her hair. “Astarion, I am going to talk to you seriously and, please, pay attention to every word I say.”

“I am all pointy ears, my love.”

“I was beaten and humiliated daily for who I was. My family didn't even give me a name because they despised me. But when I met elves for the first time they called me “garbage” - Biir. Half-something, half a person. Half elves aren't uncommon. There are surprisingly many in big cities. But I’ve been taught to despise my body, to hate my ears, to be embarrassed of my own existence. And our daughter is a dhampir. And I am sure there aren’t many like her. This world will have a thousand opportunities to shove her differences up to her nose. This world will teach Alethaine to hate herself. I can guarantee you she will try to pull her fangs out or maybe will ask someone to knock them out. She will cover herself not to let people see how pale she truly is. And we must not be a part of her problems.”

“Tiriel, I would never - “

“She is a girl, Astarion. Her image of herself will be formed mostly by you, not by me. The way you will perceive her will be the way she will see herself. And if she sees resentment, if she senses your sorrows that she isn’t a normal child, she will start hating herself. She will feel it. And it will stay with her till her long days are over.”

“Tiriel, what exactly in my behavior tells you that I am going to mistreat her? She is my child! She is…”

“I didn’t mean to ignore the fact she is a dhampir. You must cherish her differences. We must love her for being a dhampir. We must form this idea that it’s good she is a dhampir.”

Astarion chuckles. To be honest, he has never accepted his vampirism. It happened against his will and he would give anything to get rid of it. It is a curse. And now… his daughter is cursed as well.

“Astarion, this is important. Even the tiniest things will affect her. And we will have to deal with the consequences.”

The girl cries for her parents, and Tiriel, planting a kiss on Astarion’s forehead, returns inside.

Several hours later, when a washed and clean-clothed Alethaine is happily lying on her parents' bed and trying to make some coherent movements, Astarion finally finds enough moral strength to accept the reality.

He takes his daughter in his arms and walks up to the ceiling. The girl laughs and tries to bite him.

"Aren't you the cutest dhampir in Faerûn?" he mutters. "I can't wait to teach you how to use those fangs in battle. You will be deadly, my princess! But don't bite your mother, that's my prerogative."

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Baby fever

AN: I'm sure your shock has been imagined that I wrote this. I haven't even watched the video fully yet because I should be have been trying to work on my final assignments for the semester but, I've seen enough to prompt me to write this very impulsively. Apologies to all of the fics I was actively working on (glances at my 2Min drabble with apologetic eyes).

Synopsis: Seeing pictures and videos of your boyfriend with a baby inspires a stronger reaction from you than either of you could have anticipated.

Heads up: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, established relationship, the plot is barely there if I'm being honest, dirty talk, usage of pet names, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex for the first time, both Reader and Hyunjin cry at points, one mention of Reader worrying she'll draw blood from Hyunjin but no actual blood and it isn't referenced beyond that, very apparent breeding kink and talks about breeding, Hyunjin says mommy once in reference to making Reader a mum, creampie and dacryphilia kink if you squint.

Word count: 3765

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You don't expect much when your phone buzzes with a notification from Felix. He always sends you messages throughout the day, even when he has a pretty packed schedule. Asking you how your day is, telling you about his and sending you short videos and funny pictures of the rest of the members that he manages to catch.

So when you open his message, you expect maybe a selfie with him and Chris or a video of Minho feigning annoyance at being recorded.

What you don't expect is to see Hyunjin. Well, that's not entirely true. Felix sends you pictures and videos of Hyunjin all of the time. What you don't expect is to see your boyfriend awkwardly and carefully holding an incredibly adorable, chubby baby.

He did mention a while ago now that he, Felix, and Jeongin were going to be on some variety show with children, but it had honestly slipped your mind. University has been eating you alive for the past month or so, so any space in your brain for anything that isn't response papers and projects has been minimal.

Now, as you as you sit at your desk with the Word document left untouched, all you can do is stare at the video of Hyunjin trying his best to soothe the baby. His hold on him is very clumsy and it makes you a little anxious but, it's all dwarfed by how softly your boyfriend looks at him and how his massive hands cradle the baby's tiny body to his. The smile on his face is positively radiant, and the little cooing sounds he makes do eventually draw a smile and giggle from the baby comfortably in his arms.

You don't think you've felt your heart constrict more in your chest ever in your entire life. Not even when he told you he loved you for the first time or when the two of you went on your first date or the first time you had sex. Sitting here, seeing him fumble his way through interacting with this baby and the unadulterated softness in his face, completely derails any other train of thought than wanting to have a baby of your own with him.

Which is absolute insanity.

Not only are the two of you nowhere near ready to be parents, your relationship is also not even a year old yet. You've spoken about children, and while you are on the same page, now is nowhere near the time.

Still, the more carnal part of your brain can't find it to care as you continue to scroll through the barage of pictures and videos Felix sent to you. An audible 'aw' leaving your lips when the baby's tiny hand wraps around your boyfriend's finger.

Yeah, there's no way you're getting any work done today.

You practically lunge at Hyunjin when he opens your front door. You swallow his noise of surprise greedily, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing him to the door he just barely manages to close. Despite being caught thoroughly off-guard, he kisses you back. His hands coming to rest on your hips.

"Not that I'm complaining," he breathes out once he separates himself from your lips, "but, what brought this on?"

"Lix sent me pictures and videos of you with a baby," you mutter against his neck as you kiss along the sensitive skin there. Your blood turning into molten heat in your veins as he squirms and whimpers against you. You're sure you're wet enough already to take him. You've been wet for what feels like hours now.

"Okay?" He says, blinking at you in confusion through the lust induced haze he was momentarily in.

"You looked really cute and happy."

He still doesn't seem to quite understand what about that would cause you to react like this.

"Seeing you with a baby was really attractive," you finally spell out for him.

"Attractive?!" He squeaks out, and you'd usually find that endearing and cause to smush his cheeks between your hands, but you're too highstrung right now.

"Yes," you breathe, resuming your kisses along on his neck, on part of his jaw until you reach his ear, "it was really, really attractive. I couldn't even focus on my work because all I could think about was you cumming inside of me and, putting a baby in me."

You're sure Hyunjin would have crumpled to your floor if he wasn't leaning against your door. He was blushing so hard you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You don't think you've ever seen him get this red, especially so quickly, ever.

"Wh-what?" Is all he can respond with and, in all fairness, you did drop a nuclear bit of information on the poor man, so this reaction isn't exactly unexpected.

You take one of his hands and slip it into the waistband of your shorts and panties, moaning quietly when his fingers come into contact with your soaked slit. Hyunjin isn't unaffected either if the glaze in his eyes and bob of his adam's apple are anything to go by.

"I've been so wet for you all day, Jinnie," you whine, your eyes fluttering slightly and your walls clenching when his fingers run along your folds all on their own.

"Fuck," he grits, catching you by surprise this time around and slamming his mouth into yours. This kiss is more carnal than the last one. It's all teeth and tongue and spit and, all you can do is fist his shirt to steady yourself while his nimble fingers stroke you. You're barely aware that he's pushing you backwards until you find yourself hitting your couch. His mouth remains firmly on yours as you two tumble onto it.

A disappointed whine leaves you when his hand leaves your panties and shorts. Your walls throb borderline painfully, and you feel acutely empty. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you," he has the audacity to laugh, albeit hoarsely.

"Jinnie, I'm ready. Please, I want you inside of me. I'm beyond ready," you whimper, clutching onto his biceps. Giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pout while he clenches his jaw at your words.

"You're trying to kill me," he groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. From the pressure you feel on your thigh right now, you're sure your suggestion sounds tempting right now.

He kisses you more slowly this time. Savouring every brush and press of your lips against his own and, the two of you moan into each other as your tongues caress one another. You thought you'd won until you feel his hands impatiently tug your shirt up, exposing your breasts to the cool air of your apartment. His mouth descending down your neck, lavishing your throat with kisses and licks while you arch into him. Your hands tugging on his dark locks while he kisses down your body.

"Hyun-Hyunjin," you whimper, your hips jolting up into him when his breaths ghost over one of your hardened nipples.

"Are you sure you still want me to just fuck you?" Is all he says before you find your nipple enveloped by his mouth and your other breast in one of his hands.

You're sure you've soaked through your panties and are close to ruining your shorts from the way your wetness trickles out of you with every lick and suck of your boyfriend's sinful mouth. The vibrations from the groans he presses into you only make it all so much worse, along with the precise way his fingers tug and lightly pinch your other nipple.

Hyunjin would happily spend hours with his mouth and hands all over your breasts if history is any indication. However, as eyeroll and toe-curl inducing as this all feels, you're determined to get your way.

Your hands cup his face and pull him up to you. The frown on his thoroughly kissed lips almost makes you laugh, but you kiss him before the giggles get the better of you, and he complains about you ruining his time with your tits.

"Want you," you mutter against his lips, palming his erection through his jeans. The evidence of his want for you clear as day and heavy in your palm. You're tempted to just flip him over and sink down on him yourself.

"An-And I'm the one always being called impatient," he retorts with an affectionate roll of his eyes and kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"It's not my fault you looked so attractive," you respond with a shrug, biting back the complaint on the tip of the tongue when he peels away from you to tug off his shirt. God, you really must be the luckiest woman alive.

"I didn't think you'd be so into it," he says distractedly, impatiently tugging down his jeans and leaving him in nothing but his black boxers that cling in a horribly tempting way to his slender hips and, outline his hard cock.

You're not sure whether your mouth or pussy waters more.

Hyunjin flushes under your intense gaze, as if you haven't seen him naked more times than both of you could count. It still boggles your mind sometimes how your boyfriend can turn from confident, sexy and suave to an awkward, flustered mess in an instant. Well, that duality is among the multitude of reasons you're so irrevocably in love with him.

"You're staring," he mumbles, avoiding your gaze.

"It's not my fault you're so hot," you retort, delighting in the deepening blush on his cheeks. He's just too easy for his own good.

He just huffs in parts exasperation and embarrassment, choosing instead to focus on getting you naked. The playful atmosphere quickly dissipates as he hooks his thumbs into your shorts and panties, and you lift your hips to help him tug them off.

Once he's tossed them somewhere to join the heap of clothes littering your floor, Hyunjin settles himself between your thighs once more but, on his stomach this time. You really, really wish he'd just fuck you and before you're able to verbalise that thought, your boyfriend takes a slow, deliberate lick at you.

A strangled gasp flies from your lips and your hips jolt but, his large hands hold you firm. "Just let me do this for you, okay?" He asks, his stupid, pretty brown eyes boring into yours through his dark hair. His mouth hovers above you, as if waiting for some sort of response from you.

"Fuck, fine Jinnie, okay. Please, just do some-" your words are cut off by a choked sob when Hyunjin takes your words as a green light. His lips attached themselves to your poor clit, licking and sucking in ways that tighten the knots in your gut and causes your toes to curl. Your fingers weaving themselves into his hair and tugging, which prompts a whimper from your boyfriend. The vibrations making your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

A pitchy moans of his name fill the air of your apartment when his slender fingers toy with your entrance. Barely breaching your hole and you want to scream.

"Hyunjin," you whimper out, impatiently tugging on his hair.

"I'm sorry," he mutters against you with a smile and, pushes two of his fingers into you gradually.

They don't fill you nearly as much as you need but, they're better than nothing. That thought is particularly bolstered when he curls them inside of you, only needing a few moments before he finds the spot inside of you that makes your thighs quiver and your mind to go blank. Combined with his unrelenting ministrations on your poor, sensitive clit and how needy you've been for him all day, it all becomes too much so quickly.

"Hyun-Hyunjin, Jinnie. I- I'm-" You're not even sure what you're trying to articulate but, the jumbled mess of words seem to only motivate your boyfriend further. He curls his fingers harder and laps at your clit with renewed enthusiasm.

That's all it takes for everything to fracture.

You're sure the grip you have on Hyunjin's hair hurts but, you can't help it. Everything seizes and your walls spasm viciously, clamping down so harshly on Hyunjin's fingers he can barely keep curling them inside of you. Still, he tries. He's not as intense as he was moments ago but, still fingers you through your orgasm while his tongue gently laps up everything you give him.

You sag against your couch once your body relaxes. You're half certain you'd float up into the air if Hyunjin's grip on you wasn't still so strong. Speaking of your boyfriend, he does eventually unlatches himself from your hypersensitive clit. His hair is completely dishevelled, and you could already see a thin sheen of sweat on his flushed skin. His tongue pokes out to chase every bit of you he can on his bruised lips, his eyes dark.

You're sure he feels the way you clench around his fingers despite quite literally just cumming. He leans down to hungrily kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue that he pushes into your eager mouth. As if your mind isn't muddled enough. You moan into him when he very slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Now you feel so empty that it physically hurts.

"Jinnie," you plead, your fingers reaching down to toy with the waistband of his boxers. The muscles of his abdomen jumping with every brush of your fingers against them. One of his hands comes down to cup your jaw, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.

"Fine, fine," he says after pulling away from you and tugging his boxers down. His cock, flushed an appealing red, bobbing in the air between the two of you as he drops his boxers on your floor. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and even more of your wetness leaks out of you, smearing your inner thighs.

Hyunjin gets up, and that kicks you out of the stupor you were in. Your hand shoots to grab his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Where are you you going?"

"To uh...get condoms?" He asks, confusion evident in both his voice and handsome face.

"Why?"

"Wh-Why?"

"Yeah, why? I'm okay with not using them if you are. I wasn't kidding when I said I really want you to cum inside of me."

Hyunjin closes his eyes then. Gritting his teeth before responding, "What about...y'know? Not that I don't want to have children with you eventually but-"

"Jinnie, I'm on the pill. I have been since I was a teenager."

That stops Hyunjin. His big, brown eyes blinking at you as if he can't quite believe that this is real. That this is happening.

You soften then, slipping your hand downwards to intertwine your fingers with his longer one, "Hey, we don't have to if you don't want to. We can use condoms if that's what you're comfortable with."

That seems to only make your boyfriend flail harder, "No, no. It's not that I don't want to. Honestly, I've thought about it a lot," that makes you raise an eyebrow, "I've just never- I've just never done it without a condom before."

"Neither have I," you respond easily.

"Really?"

The look you give him is enough for Hyunjin to recognise what a dumb question that was, "Right, okay, sorry."

That seems to ease his anxieties significantly, he doesn't look nearly as tense as he did when you suggested the idea. You tug him down into another deep kiss, wrapping your arms around him as he resumes his place between your thighs. Gasps leaving both of you when his cock nudges at your very wet folds, the barely there pressure and searing heat causing your nails to dig into his shoulders.

"You're 100% sure about this right?" He asks once more, his eyes swirling with nervousness and desire.

While you appreciate how sweet he's being, you're seconds from pulling out your hair if he doesn't just fuck you right now. However, an idea comes to your mind to finally entice your boyfriend into fully letting go.

One of your hands reaches down until you reach the apex of your thighs, spreading your pussy for him to see just how sure you are.

"Yes, Jinnie. Fuck me, please."

Something in Hyunjin snaps then. His mouth swallowing your whimpers as he finally sinks into you. You can feel him practically vibrating with the effort to keep himself composed.

He's so hot inside of you. You're not sure sex has ever felt so intense. You've had him inside of you hundreds of times but, this...this is completely different. You swear you can feel everything. Every twitch and every throb and every vein as your walls melt around him. Before you know it, you're blinking away tears from how overwhelming it all is and pull him closer to you, wrapping your legs around him.

"Fuck, wait. Shit, don't do that. Don't move," he chokes out into the hollow of your throat, his own hold on your hips growing harsh and his cock twitching repeatedly inside of you.

"Jinnie, move," you whine into his ear, you can barely recognise yourself. You sound so foreign to your own ears but, from the way Hyunjin's hips slightly jolt and he mutters a string of curses against your skin, he might be into this new state of fucked out you've managed to achieve.

You thought it couldn't be even intense, but then Hyunjin moves, and you're pretty sure your visions goes black at the edges for a few seconds. There's no way to tell who moans louder but, you both press your noises into each other's skin all the same. Your nails drag down his back so hard that you're briefly worried that you might have drawn blood.

"Baby," Hyunjin whimpers out, thrusting into you slowly and shallowly, barely satisfying either of you, "Baby, I need you to relax. I-I won't last if you don't."

His words only instinctively make you tighten around him, made all the worse since he's so deeply nestled of you. Your walls massaging him and generously coating him in your slick.

"I want it, Jinnie. I don't care, please," you don't know what's possessed you but, the realisation that he very really could fill you with his cum hits you like a train. You pull him even closer to you, "Fuck me all you want. Cum inside of me all you want. Breed me all you want, Jinnie."

Something broken and feral slips from his lips, his teeth ghost over your throat as he fucks into you without abandon. The sounds of your skin colliding and your respective sounds of pleasure echoing all throughout your living room, and probably throughout your entire apartment.

"Yeah? Want me to fuck my baby into you?" He grits out possesively, "Want me to make you swollen with my ba-baby and make you a mommy?"

"Please, yes, Jinnie," you moan, holding onto him for dear life as he seems determined to make his words a reality. Both of you completely lost in each other and delirious.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," he moans against your shoulder in-between kisses that are more spit and tongue than anything else. "Fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up with my cum until it's leaking out of you for days. Gonna breed you so good," he slurs, his heavy pants joining the symphony of sounds currently playing through your living room. You're certain you'll have bruises on your hips in the morning but, you couldn't care less. You want it. You want it more than anything.

It's always easy to tell when Hyunjin is about to cum. Your boyfriend isn't exactly great at hiding his emotions, and from the increase in the frequency of curses and moans and the way he holds onto you, you know he's teetering on the edge. You are, too, if you're being honest, but you're more invested in him falling apart. A choked sob of your name is the only warning you receive before you feel his cock twitch inside of you incessantly and warmth flooding your awaiting pussy.

You're surprised to feel some wetness on your shoulder and, concern trumps any other emotion when you register that. Your hands reach to cup his face, a few stray tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

"Hey, Jinnie baby, is everything okay?"

It takes him a few moments to find the words to respond to you, and you rub your thumb soothing on his cheek while you wait for him patiently.

"I-I-I don't think I've e-ever cum so hard. It-It was really i-intense," he hiccups out, nuzzling into your grasp.

Oh.

Well, that puts the tears on his face into a very different light and, perhaps you've discovered another new thing about yourself today.

"I'm sorry. I got a little...out of control at the end there," he mutters, his face speeding from pink to red as he avoids your gaze studiously.

"Jinnie, you have nothing to apologise for," you tug him towards you and plant featherlight kisses on his cheek, "It was really fucking hot, if I'm being honest."

That only makes your boyfriend blush harder and seek refuge in your shoulder after groaning in embarrassment. The movement quickly reminds you that he's still very much inside of you right now and that his cum is slowly starting to trickle out of you but, you feel too boneless to even entertain the idea of getting up right now.

"I'm still surprised seeing me with a baby resulted in all of this," he says after his embarrassment subsides, his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on your thigh.

"Wouldn't see me with a baby make you feel the same way?"

He seems to ponder on that for a little bit before replying, "Fair point. You know, when we do eventually have one of our own, I hope they have your eyes."

This stupid man and the way he makes your heart race.

"Well, I hope they have your eyes and your pouty lips and your dimples," you retort, feeling very, very shy all of a sudden as though this isn't happening because of you.

"We'll just have to have more than one then. You know, just to make sure they get all of the traits we want them to get," he has the nerve to grin at you.

"Hyunjin!" You cry, scandalised, warmth flooding your face. However, you can't deny that a bunch of children with his smile and kind eyes doesn't sound like the such a bad idea.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[totheblood]

hii love can you write hcs of ellie williams in protective gf mode

a/n: of course! thank u for the request <;3 p.s little bonus ai audio at the end (ellie yelling at u lol, ellie telling u to drink up, ellie asking u whats wrong)

protective gf ellie

it’s no secret that ellie is extremely protective of the people around her, but when it came to you it was a whole other story

she’s protective of you out in the world, if you’re on patrol together she will always enter new areas before you, scoping it out before giving you the okay to come in

“it’s safe to come in, babe.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re still alive, so where’s my thank you?”

she would definitely try not to baby you since she’s positive you can hold your own (it’s very hot to her how badass you are on patrol) but sometimes she just can’t control it

she knows she’s immune so she would much rather take her chances than have you be bit, but you don't know that so you get into little quips about why she doesn’t let you fight infected

“i don’t see why i can’t clear out the area with you ellie, i feel like i’m not pulling my weight.”

“it’s not safe, you could get bit.”

“SO COULD YOU!”

“but i won’t.”

she will always check the sturdiness of the floor before telling you to follow her (she’s fallen through too many floors to take her chances with you)

when you do end up getting hurt on patrol she gets mad

like unreasonably angry at you… she’s working on it

“what the fuck were you thinking?! going in there gun’s blazing, you didn’t know how many of them there were!” she would scold you while tending to your wounds, it was honestly very confusing

“i’m sorry, i jus-“

“don’t do it again.” she would say it in her sternest voice before kissing the gauze where she patched you up

when it comes to protecting you from other people in jackson ellie was known for being ruthless

a guy hitting on you at the diner? she would slide into the booth next to you and wrap her arm around your waist with an exaggerated, “hey baby.”

someone who won’t leave you alone when you’re obviously uncomfortable? she would immediately step in between the two of you with her finger pointed in the guys face, “hey back the fuck up!”

if she ever saw you crying, all hell would break loose

inside her rage would be boiling, but on the outside she was running up to you, putting your face in her hands, scanning your body for any injuries, and asking you with the most tender voice, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“these guys would not stop making fun of me on my way home.” you would explain in between sniffles “just got so overwhelmed, but i’m okay.”

“who? what did they look like? what were they saying?”

“ellie, don’t do anything.”

“i won’t, just tell me. wanna make sure those assholes shovel horse shit for a month.”

after you would tell her she’d press a kiss on your forehead and stay with you until you fell asleep

after she would go out and find the guys who made you cry and beat them up (violence isn’t the answer but this is ellie and she’s a sucker for revenge)

ellie’s actually not above punching anyone for you, she just would never let you see that side of her

a part of her also wants to protect you from herself and what she’s capable of

so whenever she’s not doing mentally well she would seperate herself from you so she doesn’t lash out at you

she hates the look on your face when anyone yells at you and she knows she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she was on the receiving end

she also always walks you home, she likes when you call her a gentleman and kiss her goodnight

she’s also protective of you when you’re not feeling well, absolutely ignoring her own health to make sure you’re eating, sleeping, and getting enough water

“c’mon baby, drink up.” she would coo as she gently sat you up in your bed, her protective hand resting on the small of you back while you drank

she would stroke your hair as you slept, constantly checking your body temperature as she waited for your fever to break

on the flipside, whenever she was sick she wouldn’t let you around her

you would be banging on her door with homemade soup being like “ellie, open this goddamn door!”

and her sick ass would say “no! don't wanna get you sick!” through her stuffy nose

“fine, but i’m leaving the soup outside your door, please make sure you eat it and drink water!”

“thank you.”

“okay, bye, i love you!”

“i love you more”

she’s always doting on you, making sure your happy and satisfied

if you’re eating together she would make sure you are full before she finishes her plate just in case you want more

at community events her eyes would always return to you even when she’s in conversation with someone else

“she’s fine y’know? just the spring dance.” jesse would say after her looking over at you for the tenth time in their 15 minute conversation

“i know. i just like looking at her.” it wasn’t a lie, but she was still just making sure you were okay

ai audios:

[ssareids-coffee]

may have written some more perv!eddie as I am obsessed!!

(meant as a part 2 to this fic but can be read as a stand alone!)

content: kissing, heavy petting, unprotected sex, anal, choking, pussy eating, hair pulling (actual filth whoops)

ps- feel free to send me some asks and drabble concepts<3

your impossibly close to eachother yet somehow not touching. you can feel eddies breath hot against your skin, slowly making its way up your neck and too your mouth. he smells earthy, like weed and incense woven together in the most delicious way. finally touching you, he pulls your chin up so your making eye contact.

“do you want this?” he asked breathlessly “as i know if i start this i won’t be able to stop until you are absolutely ruined”

“i want you to ruin me eds” looking up at him through thick lashes as you hear him let out a quiet groan, he quickly crashes his lips onto yours. there was nothing innocent about this kiss, it was hot, fevered and consuming. he grabbed your denim clad hips and pulls you on top of him, pushing your covered core down onto his painfully hard cock through his jeans. one hand finds his hair as the other grabs a fistful of his hellfire shirt, finding yourself grinding down on him without even thinking about it. you both let out a moan, pulling away from the kiss and throwing your head back, giving him perfect access to your neck. eddie licks a stripe down your neck playfully biting it as you whimper.

“shit you sound so pretty” running his hand under your shirt and up your back.

“you just, fuck-“ grinding yourself down on him again to relieve some of the ache in your core “your better than i imagined” eddie froze- not only were you on his lap, grinding down on him but you thought of him? he is sure he must be dreaming.

“shit- you thought of me? baby you gotta tell me what you imagined ” pressing his lips to your neck again as he waits for a response.

“remember that shirt you left at mine? god- i put it on my pillow and humped it until i came. the whole time, i was picturing this with you” your filthy confession made eddie even harder (he didn’t know how that was possible), fingers finding the edge of your shirt and pulling it over your head. grabbing your hips he stood up, carrying you over to the wall next to his room before pushing you against it. slowly letting you down as he feverishly kissed you, leaving you straddling one of his thighs. one hand on the curve of your waist the other found the back of your bra and unhooked it, throwing it carelessly somewhere in his trailer.

“shit- look at these fucking tits, god knew they would be perfect” groaning as he grabbed them hungrily “wanted to touch them like this the minute you came back that summer with them”

“that long huh?” you smirk, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him so your mouth was right next to his ear “i touched myself thinking about you that night, the way you couldn’t take your eyes off me- shit, felt like you were gonna eat me alive”

“i would have” he replied quickly, throwing his t-shirt over his head and starting to fumble with the button of your shorts. as soon as he can he pulls them down your thighs, falling to his knees as he tears them off you. before he can even think he’s grazing his hand over your clothed clit, making you moan. eddie doesn’t know if he can stop looking at you, the way you were looking down at him- chest heaving with each breath, blown pupils, plump lips and flushed cheeks. he was drunk on you, the way you smelt, tasted and felt. needing more he reaches down to tear your pretty black panties off so he could finally see you.

"shit, eds i liked those pants- oh fuck!" before you had a chance to complain anymore he attached his lips to your clit, giving it an experimental suck.

"somehow you taste even better than I thought you would, even better than those panties smelt" he growled, quickly reattaching his mouth to you, eating your pussy like his life depended on it and god did it feel like it did. he was absolutely hooked on you, throwing one leg over his shoulder as his fingers ghosted your aching hole. thrusting two fingers inside you he tried to find your sweet spot, curling his fingers at a pace matching his tongue. his name is falling from your lips like a prayer as your pussy makes the most sinful noises, so wet that you are dripping down his chin. he knows your close when you start grinding on his face, incoherent noises coming from your mouth as your pussy flutters around his fingers.

"eds, fuck- gonna" waves of pleasure flow through your body as you ride out an intense orgasm. he removes his fingers from you, wiping your slick from his chin with the back of his hand as he uses the other to keep you standing on shaky legs.

"you look so pretty when you cum baby, shit- gotta be inside you" nodding furiously, you fumble with his jeans and help him shimmy them down his thighs to release his hard cock. he kisses you fiercely, slowly running his cock through your folds, pulling a loud moan from you both.

"eds, please-"

"come on baby, let me hear you beg" he smirks, gripping your hip so tightly you know there will be bruises.

"eds, please, need you to fill me up- shit I need you inside me" that was all he needed, swiftly pushing himself inside you. he starts fucking into you at a relentless pace, feverishly grabbing at any part of your body he could reach.

"please- choke me" you whimper, making eddies cock twitch inside you.

"my sweet girl really is filthy huh? begging to be choked" wrapping his ring clad fingers round your throat and squeezing, making your pussy clench around his cock desperately.

"yes, shit, like that" you cry out, nails scratching his shoulders as he continued his steady thrusts inside you. he quickly finds your g-spot, hitting it repeatedly leaving you shaking and screaming as your walls flutter around him.

"can feel you clenching round me, come on baby, cum for me yeah?" you cum quickly, fucking yourself onto his cock to ride it out as you gush round him.

"Jesus Christ you just squirted, need you to do that again" he groaned.

"eds- wait"

"shit, what's wring, do you want to stop?" stilling his movements as he waited for a response anxiously.

"no- god no, I just, ugh, I want you to fuck my ass" you whimper, making his breath catch in his throat as he relishes in your filthy confession.

"jesus christ, you really are fucking filthy- as if I could say no to that" he pulls out of you and turns you around, spitting on his cock as he slowly pushes it into your puckered hole.

"you are so. fucking. tight" he grunts, bottoming out inside your hole as you whimper. he starts fucking into you slowly, but when your moans only grow louder he picks up his pace again. wrapping a hand in your hair, he uses it to yank your head off the wall- arching your back and letting him inside you at a perfect angle. his other hand quickly finds your other hole, fingers slipping inside and matching the pace he is fucking you. the pleasure was almost too much, white hot and coursing through your veins as you neared another high. Eddie was not far behind, cock beginning to twitch in your ass as his thrusts became sloppier.

"shit, so close angel, need you to cum with me- fuck" he moans, leaning down and biting your shoulder. the pain mixes with the pleasure in the most delicious way, tipping you over the edge as you squirt round his fingers. eddie empties himself inside you with a shout, whispering filthy words and praises as he comes down from his high. he pulls out of you, helping you turn around so you were facing him again- pulling eddie in for a slow, sloppy kiss.

"you weren't joking when you said your filthy, fuck" he laughs breathlessly "never gotta fuck someone in the ass before and oh my god is it better than I imagined"

"baby, you haven't even seen how filthy I am" you smirk, pulling him into his bedroom on shaky legs.

"again? already?"

"I have more holes for you to cum in"

"your gonna kill me"

"you say that like you don't love it eds"

"your right, I do"

[telvess]

I was hanging out with a little girl who fucking coughed on me and now I'm sick...

Usually I'll drink a shot of vinegar, ginger honey, cinnamon and cayenne pepper... but i don't have access to than rn...

And in my sick/ half sleep haze I was thinking about how our diverse cast of hot men would take care of sick s/o using natural remedies

So Shiva, jataka, Buddha, (it might be the same because India idk, I guess Thai for Buddha)

Loki (Celtic/Greek idk)

Kojiro (Japanese)

I need some ror men..

medicine!

Need medicine...

I hope your sickness was short!

I THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH SASAKI BECAUSE OF YOU!

RoR: How do they take care of sick s/o (Shiva, Jataka, Buddha, Loki, Sasaki Kojirō)

Shiva

Shiva has never been sick in his life, so he freaks out a bit when you get sick. Not the most helpful companion you can find. At first he asks what to do, but if you are too weak to speak, then… oh well.

Shiva doesn’t leave his realm, so he doesn't know any natural, human remedies that could help you. He keeps you warm and sits next to you the entire time. He remains vigilant. Even he pretends it’s nothing, his wives can tell he genuinely worries.

Once the worst is over and you start to look more alive, Shiva does his best to keep you in a good mood. Say a word and he will even dance for you.

What’s surprising, no matter how hard you try, you can’t infect Shiva. He basically cuddles you, feeds you, and helps you change clothes all the time, and yet all the germs seem to ignore him.

Jataka

Jataka was sick himself, he knows it all too well. As soon as he notices the first symptoms, he is very caring. Even if it’s just a flu, he doesn't downplay it.

He prepares for you an ayurvedic drink. Depending on your symptoms, he will choose the right recipe. He makes sure you drink all of it, so don’t even try to argue. It’s a waste of time, this man is too stubborn.

Jataka provides everything you need, he even brings you a book to read or he reads to you himself. He is cautious and keeps his distance, but that doesn’t stop him from being very strict: he makes sure you drink enough water and that you’re warm.

Every time he checks if you have a fever, he caresses your cheek with his finger before moving away. It's the only physical thing he can do right now to show you his affection.

Buddha

His first reaction is to tell you to lie down. It doesn't seem to bother him, because it’s just the flu. He had it when he was human, it’s not a big deal, especially if you have everything you need right under your nose. But secretly it eats him up inside, to the point where he can no longer eat sweets. So he shows up on your doorstep with his very casual attitude and starts asking questions. He checks if you’re hydrated, if you have a fever, if you need anything.

Buddha was born in present-day Nepal, so he follows ayurvedic… a little. He knows it’s not 100% effective, but he still finds some methods solid. He would make you brew containing honey, tusi leaves and lemon juice, and force you to drink it. It’s the best for the flu in his opinion.

He sits at the proper distance, eats his sweets and talks to you. He isn’t the worst companion you can get. Isn’t the best either… Do you know how good this candy is? Oh, right, you don’t, because you can’t taste *smirk* Don’t waste your pillow trying to hit him…

Loki

Let’s be honest, Loki probably isn’t the best person to take care of a sick person. At first, he acts annoyed when you announce your condition to him, but after awhile when he sees you struggling with the easiest tasks, he begins to worry. Seeing you in such weak shape makes Loki a little, a bit… soft.

From what I’ve researched, the Nords believed that sickness was an attack of malignant spirits (often ancestors) on the body. Loki obviously knows better what’s going on with you, but I wouldn’t be surprise if he mentions this fun fact to you. He was probably the one who sold people this nonsense in the first place. Let's just hope you're not hallucinating…

Loki prepares you tea with honey and entertains you with his new diabolical plans of how to mess with humans. He doesn’t even need you to be active in the conversation, but it's nice to see you smile or snort from time to time.

Loki doesn't follow any rules (i.e. keeps his distance, washes hands) and he will probably end up sick as well. Guess whose fault it is? And guess will have to take care of him? AND guess who won’t lie in bed and rest but spread germs everywhere? That’s right…

Kojirō Sasaki

He is the sweetest guy you could have by your side right now. A little clumsy, but he has got a spirit.

Considering how observant Kojirō is, he'll probably be the first to notice the symptoms. Even if you deny it, he will prepare for the possibilities ahead.

Sasaki would prepare for you hachimitsu-daikon - it’s Japanese form of cough and throat syrup, made from honey and Japanese radish. Kojirō would make it for you just like his mother did when he was a child.

Kojirō doesn’t mind missing a few days of training, you’re his priority. He is with you as long as you need and entertains you with stories from his life. He can read you something until you fall asleep.

He makes sure you’re hydrated, always brining you fresh water or preparing ginger tea called shoga-yu. He doesn’t try to make you anything else, because he is terrible at picking herbs and might accidentally poison you.

[noarose18]

SOON YOU'LL GET BETTER -- PART TWO

First of all, thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed part one, which is linked here! For those who don't know, this is a fanfiction written from Peeta's POV about Katniss and Peeta's time in the cave.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! As always let me know what you think, I am always open to criticism.

We also reached 15 followers! Love you all soo much <3

Something is wet on the back of my neck when I wake up.  I’m freezing cold again.  My eyes flutter open and I see that I’m back in the cave.

“Peeta…”

Katniss’s voice sounds far away.  I gasp and push myself up a little, coughing.

“Peeta, lay down.”  I can’t process what she’s saying.  I’m coughing, and then I’m gagging and I put my right hand to my mouth and when it comes away there’s bright red on it.  I realize I’m shivering again.  It’s so cold.

“Peeta,” Katniss says firmly.  She puts a hand on my chest and lays me down gently.

“Something’s–”

“--wrong.  I know.  Try to relax.”  My chest moves up and down quickly with panicked breaths.  The back of my head is still wet.  I put my left hand on the back of my head and gasp in pain.

“You blacked out.  I had to drag you back here and the back of your head got cut on the rock.  Don’t touch it.”

My hand is shaking when I pull it away.

“Is it–” I start to talk, but the pain in my leg suddenly registers again and all I can do is groan.  Katniss puts a hand on my forehead, soothing me.

“....I think it’s internal bleeding.”

“From the rock?”

“....yeah.”  Katniss brushes the hair out of my face.

“Wh-what’s the cure?”  

Katniss shakes her head.  “My mother says that in the capitol, they do surgery for it.  But…”

But….oh.  Oh.  That’s when I get it.  People in twelve can’t get the surgery, so they just die.

“I’m going to…”

“You won’t.  I’m gonna keep you alive.”  I press my lips together and search Katniss’s face.

I still feel afraid.  “You promise?”

I see Katniss look down.  I can’t read her.  “I promise,” she says.  I don’t feel entirely convinced.  But I don’t feel like I’m on the brink of death, either.  Still, I’m exhausted and groggy.

I close my eyes slowly but suddenly feel Katniss’s head next to mine.  My body tenses when I hear her whisper.

“Listen, Peeta.”  Her voice is so low I can barely pick it up.  The cameras 

certainly can’t.  Her lips are practically touching my ear.  My eyes open.  She continues, “I think we can get some kind of medicine that’s gonna cure your internal bleeding.  But we need to be in love.”

I just nod silently.  I know for Katniss it’s a total farce.  She’s not in love with me.  She never has been.  But what I said to Caesar Flickerman wasn’t far from the truth.  There is a more pressing issue, however – the cut on my leg.  Right now it’s causing me a lot more pain than anything else.  But Katniss knows that.  So why…

“I know your leg is worse.”  Damn.  It’s like she can read my mind.  “It’s gonna be 

a lot harder and more expensive to get medicine for that, so we should focus on medicine for your bleeding right now.”

I just nod again.  My stomach and chest are throbbing now that I think about it, but it still pales in comparison to the pain in my leg.

Katniss sits up.  “The sun is starting to set.  You should try eating again.”  I shut my eyes and sigh.

“I can’t eat anything, I’m telling you, Katniss.”  I open my eyes and look at her.  “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“You can just sleep, then,” Katniss says.  I nod.  I’m completely exhausted.

Katniss leans forward and kisses me on the lips.  My hand moves to the side of her head, leaning into it, savoring it.  A shudder wracks my body and my heart jumps. But as quickly as it started, it’s over.  I put my head back on the rock and see Katniss smiling.

“Goodnight, Peeta.”

“--wait.  I want your s-sleeping bag,” I say.  Katniss bites her lip.

“Your fever could get worse,” Katniss says.  But she can see how much I’m shivering.  “...alright.  But we both have to share it.”  I nod and watch as Katniss takes the sleeping bag out of her backpack.

She gently puts it around me, then climbs in next to me.  I roll over onto my side.  She’s tiny compared to me, but I feel like she’s protecting me now.  I put an arm over her waist.  My shivering is starting to calm down now that I’m in the sleeping bag.  Katniss’s hand goes to the side of my head, petting my hair.

My eyes fall shut.  Katniss sighs.  I’m too tired to stay awake any longer. —--

I wake up slowly.  I’m freezing, and Katniss…is gone.  My breathing picks up.  I start to sit up and look around the cave. I can’t see her anywhere.

She’s left me.  My chest hurts.  I draw in a shaky breath and feel tears welling up in my eyes.  Of course she would.  Of course she left me.  Why wouldn’t she?  I was holding her down.  She was having to take care of me and herself.

Just like everyone back home has given up on me, she has too.  I can’t believe I let myself think that she would stay with me until the games ended.  Tears stream down my cheeks.

My mother gave up on me at a young age.  She decided I was too soft, too emotional, not strong enough.  I’d cry whenever one of our pigs died.  I’d cry whenever I was in pain.  I’d cry when I heard of people in twelve dying.  My mother would scream at me, or come and hit me.  

My friends thought the same thing.  On my fifteenth birthday, I planned a gathering at the bakery for my group of friends.  No one showed up.  I spent the whole day crying.  Eventually, I found new friends.  But my heart always ached, my eyes always stung when I saw my old group.  

Katniss has given up on me now too.  I shake with a sob and cross my arms over my chest.  What was I thinking?  She’d stay with me and take care of me like a child until the games were over?

No.  Of course not.  She doesn’t love me.

Hot tears run down my cheeks and I don’t have the energy to wipe them.  I cry until I have no tears left.  I lay for hours.  It’s pathetic.  I can only hope the cameras aren’t on me now.

Tears run down my face until I am numb.  Finally, I catch my breath.  I lay still for minutes thinking about how Katniss has betrayed me.  My eyes are swollen and they ache.  My whole body is shaking as I realize that Katniss has not only left me, she’s left me for dead.  Before she found me I was going to die.  Without her, I am going to die.

I start crying again when this hits me.  My life is over.  Nothing I’ve done has mattered.  I will only live to be sixteen, and I will be sixteen forever.

I am utterly alone, and that is how I am going to die.  I feel something warm running down the side of my leg.  I’m bleeding again.  Tears roll down my face.  My lips are numb.  My eyes feel like they’re being stabbed.  My heart is racing.  I squeeze my eyes shut and suddenly feel something on my shoulder.

It’s Cato.  He’s come to kill me.

“Peeta.”

……

……

…..It’s not Cato.

“Kat…Katniss?”

“Peeta, what happened?”  I look up and see Katniss’s face, dark with worry and reaching for my hand.  It’s out of my control, I sob loudly and reach for her face.

“Katniss…”

“What?  Peeta, I’m here.  What’s wrong?”  Katniss wipes my tears with her thumb.

“I…I thought–”  I pause, gasping.  “You left me.”

“I just went to get some food for myself.”

I draw in a shaky breath and wipe my eyes.  Katniss kisses me on the forehead and brushes the hair out of my face.

“You’re burning, Peeta.  It’s the fever that’s making you think this way.  We need to get it down.  We need…” ….we need medicine medicine.  We need a gift from the sponsors.

My chest moves up and down quickly.  I’m still crying, still breathing heavily, panicked.  Katniss sees this and she puts a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re ok, Peeta,” she says, placing another kiss on my forehead.  I use the back of my right hand to wipe my tears.  “I’m here.  I’ll keep you safe,” Katniss’s voice is shaking.  

“I’m sorry–”

“--No, don’t be.”  Katniss leans in and hugs me.  “I’m so sorry I scared you like that.”  Her hand goes to the back of my head.  “Breathe.  Just breathe.  It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Something about a promise calms me down greatly.  It means something.  It means there’s meaning behind what she says.

“Okay?” She whispers, pulling away from the hug.

“Okay.”  I wipe my eyes again.  Katniss smiles slightly.

Suddenly, I hear a bit of beeping.  Katniss perks up.  “I think it’s a gift from the sponsors.  I’ll be right back.”

Katniss exits the cave.  She gets out of my line of sight for a few seconds, and when she’s back in my sight, she’s carrying a box with a parachute attached.  She crawls up to me and opens it.

Inside, there’s a small clear bottle with yellow, thick liquid in it.   As Katniss pulls the bottle out, there’s a small note below it.  She holds it up to me.

  Fever medicine.  Temporary.

Temporary?  Does that mean it’ll only work for a few hours?  

Katniss unscrews the lid and hands the bottle to me.  My hand is shaking as I lift it to my lips and drink.  It’s flavorless, but the texture still makes me nauseous.

“Can you keep that down for a few hours?  It is a liquid..” Katniss asks, taking the bottle from me.  I look down.

“Probably not,” I say truthfully.  I already feel like throwing up again, and we’re nowhere near a few hours.

“Just try, ok?  This is important…until we get something for the internal bleeding, this is how we’re gonna fix the fever.”

I press my lips together.  I don’t want to be sick again.  I hate it.  It scares me.

I look down at my lap.  Katniss puts her hand on my thigh but pulls it away, surprised.  “Peeta, your leg is bleeding again.  We need to take a look.”

She reaches for my waistband.  “Lift up.”  I lift my bottom so she can pull my pants down.  It’s vulnerable being in my underwear in front of Katniss – actually, in front of the whole country – but it’s not a really big deal to me.  And Katniss clearly doesn’t care.

Katniss hisses through her teeth when she sees my leg.  It looks a lot worse than before.  My whole thigh is covered in blood.  I shut my eyes and try not to throw up.  I really don’t like the sight of blood.

“It’s ok, Peeta.  We’re gonna fix it.”

“How?” I ask.

“Can you take off your shirt?” Katniss asks.

“What?  Why?”  I’m completely taken aback.

“My backpack came with a pocket knife.  I can cut off a strip at the bottom.  Use it as a bandage.”

“...oh.  Yeah.”

I take off my jacket and put it behind me before slowly taking my shirt off and handing it to Katniss.  I’m really freezing now, trying not to fall over with my shaking.  Katniss gets the pocket knife from her backpack and cuts off the very bottom of my shirt, then hands it back to me.  “Put this back on.”  I pull the gray shirt over my head.  It’s a little shorter than before, but it still keeps me warm.  I put my jacket back on.

Katniss lifts up my thigh gently – I gasp and she apologizes – and puts the makeshift bandage under my leg, then wraps it around the top.

“Be gentle..” I say softly.  Katniss nods.  

She’s gentle, but it hurts like hell as she ties a knot, closing the two sides of the wound together.  Blood oozes out and I can’t help myself as I lean over and throw up at the sight.  Katniss finishes tying the knot, then puts a hand on the back of my neck.

“I’m sorry…” I say softly.  I wanted the fever medicine to work.

“It’s alright…maybe I shouldn’t have bandaged your leg right after you took it,” Katniss sighs.  She’s taking the blame, but we both know it’s my fault.  I shouldn’t have looked.  Actually, I shouldn’t have let myself get beaten by Cato.  Then I wouldn’t even have this fever…at least, I think the fever was caused by the internal bleeding.  What else would it be?

Katniss hands me her water bottle.  “Wash your mouth out.  I’ll clean everything up.  Why don’t you move closer to the opening?  I’ll clean up the blood and vomit.  Just try and get some rest.”  I nod.  Katniss comes behind me and lifts me up, moving me forward close to the cave’s entrance.  She takes off her jacket, folds it, and hands it to me.

“You can rest your head on this,” Katniss says.  I nod and put it below where my head will rest, then lay down.  The sun is starting to set.  I must have been crying for a long time.  

I close my eyes and listen to Katniss humming softly.  I recognize the melody, but through my haze I can’t quite put my finger on it.  It does put me to sleep, though.  My body almost melts into the rock as my consciousness fades away.  No matter how much sleep I get, I’m still tired.

When I wake up, it’s still nighttime, and the footsteps of another tribute are approaching the cave.

[ilgaksu]

never a god (mysterious lotus casebook, post-canon, genderfluid li lianhua)

@difeisheng is a filthy enabler and my mum told me to tell them i can't have discord sleepovers with them anymore. they're also writing a ficlet in the same series and i'll link to it in this post when it's up!

*

The evening shift at the House of Scarlet Delights starts out just like any other. Li Xianghua wakes late in the afternoon, eats at the long table in the kitchen with the others, crowded in amongst girls still in sleep-clothes and others already fully made up for the night’s work, hair ornaments shimmering against each other like enamelled butterflies. Li Xianghua is tired, but it’s a familiar kind of tired. Still, he keeps his head down and eats. He inhales porridge with ginger and chili oil and lets his brain meander; painless, like floating. His body aches. 

“Huahua,” Xiao-mei asks, startling him. “Sorry! Huahua, do you have a comb I can borrow?” 

Her eyes are huge and pleading, round like a little animal’s. All of Xiao-mei is round to match, small and plump and plush with a matching mouth, and wildly, wildly popular with customers. She makes herself very hard to resist. Even as she speaks, she is always reaching out, twining some of Li Xianghua’s hair around her fingers. Against the fresh pink of them - Xiao-mei is barely twenty - the cold brittle white of his hair, like frost on an immortal’s mountain, is stark. Not for the first time, Li Xianghua feels old around her. Had he been so bright back then, too? No wonder Shan Gudao couldn’t stand to look at him. 

“Stop bothering Xianghua,” Weiwei snaps, from the kitchen doorway, frown etched on her face like iron, fan in her fingertips like Li Xianghua might have held a sword. “You know she’s had a long week, and here you are, hanging all over her like she’s your own mother. Have you no shame?” 

“But I missed her,” Xiao-mei whines, “And she always lends me things when I ask. Not like you, Weiwei.”

Weiwei sighs, crossing her arms and flipping the long braids of her hair over her shoulder. Even years of life in the Central Plains haven’t done their work to erase the signs of her first home from her; she still dresses like a girl from the plains, albeit one laden in jewellery. Weiwei purses her lips as she says, “Li Xianghua lends you her things when you ask so you’ll go away and stop bothering her.” 

Li Xianghua’s lips, despite himself, twitch. Weiwei, looming over Xiao-mei’s head, winks at him, so fast it could be denied, before dropping back into her ice princess act. 

“That’s not true is it, Huahua?” Xiao-mei demands, eyes now enormous. Li Xianghua inhales the last of the porridge, lips stinging with chili oil, and stands. In a previous life, he had to dodge girls like this all day. The dance doesn’t get any less tiring, especially when they’re sweet like she is.  

“I’ll give you the comb in a second,” is all he says. “I have to go get my flute now. We’re about to open.” 

He escapes. In his room - compact, not quite cramped, dominated by the bed, the chest of belongings, prone to steam from the girls’ bathhouse below entering through the open window but therefore always nearly warm - he dresses quickly, kneels and opens the chest. Inside, the flute is wrapped in a piece of red marbled silk, like the veins on a man just before he becomes corpse. The flute itself is beautiful, fixed along a distinct break right through it, like a newly fused bone. But the memory of the wound will always be there. Both of these things, silk and instrument, are from men before Li Xianghua became a dead man to them, each for a second time, and now, what is he? In the polished bronze of the mirror on a low table nearby, pushed right back against the wall and partially obscured by a medicine chest, he catches a glimpse of himself: hair fever-white, robes a dark green like mulch, and face painted like a heroine in a story. 

The story is over, and what he is, is what is left alive.  

He selects a comb at random from the splay of them on the table and leaves. 

And so, the first hour is peaceful. Usual, even. Xiao-mei is embarrassingly grateful, even holds her breath as Li Xianghua helps fit the teeth of it firmer into her hair. Li Xianghua ignores this. Li Xiangua focuses on his work. He kneels on a dais at one end of the main room, head bowed, and plays for the incoming flux of customers, all lilting songs that suggest yearning over satisfaction. It helps encourage them to stop drinking and go upstairs. This, too, is peaceful; usual. Li Xianghua focuses on his breathing and the music and the world melts around him, and then he gets paid for it. It’s a good life, as they go.  

However, once that first hour passes, this - the music, the brothel, the sanctuary - is interrupted, when a man in lilac, shimmering robes and hair tied up high and away from his face strides in, still no subtlety about him in sight. There is shock, certainly, but then comes with it an immediate wave of resignation, so much more muted than dread. What is a shadow meant to do in the face of unyielding light but dissolve? It’s the way of things. Li Xianghua watches, resisting the urge to laugh or scream or distract or sprint away, any of it, anything at all, as the man, still boyish about the face with it too, reaches into his robes and removes a wooden badge. 

“My name,” he says, voice as clear as a bell and just as headache-inducing in prolonged succession, “is Fang Duobing, and I’m a detective of Baichuan Court. I’m here to investigate the disappearance of Cai-daren's son.”

Li Xianghua resists the urge to roll his eyes. He keeps them half-down, instead, inspecting up from beneath his eyelashes. He shifts one hand, slightly, to try and cover the mended crack in the flute. But something about the minute movement must alert Fang Duobing, because he turns like a fox scenting blood, stares directly at Li Xianghua. He blinks. He gapes. His gaze drops to the flute, fixes for a deadly beat, and then rises back to Li Xianghua’s face. He tries to make a sound, but no sound comes, the bell cut out or cut down or shattered on the spot, and Li Xianghua, Li Xianghua who was twice a dead man but only, until this moment, once resurrected, looks back at him and thinks - 

Well, fuck.      

[read this on ao3]

[read ash's ficlet here]

[podcastenthusiast]

(Little fic set during the first Long Rest. Astarion experiments with the new limits of his vampiric nature. It goes badly and Tav helps.)

Now on ao3

The atmosphere at camp that first night is fraught with worry and uncertainty, everyone reeling from the recent trauma. Reminds you of home, really. You know a thing or two about sharing space with the only handful of people in this world going through the same horrid experience as you.

Now here you all sit sharing a meal together, too. Or, well, they are.

"Something wrong, Astarion? You're not eating."

The half-orc is looking at you with suspicion—no, with concern. They are all looking at you. Then this is your cue. Time to put on a show. Play your part.

"Well," you sniff haughtily, "to be honest, this is hardly the caliber of cuisine I'm used to. No offence meant, darling."

"None taken; Gale cooked."

"And I did my best with our severely limited provisions, thank you very much. Sorry it isn't up to your standards, Astarion."

You conjure distant memories of decadent meals as unreal to you now as the forgotten color of your own eyes. Can't have anyone sneaking a peak into your mind through your shared connection and seeing blood and vermin--your usual sustenance.

"Even so, please try to eat something," she insists.

"Why? To build team camaraderie? I can think of far more exciting ways to get better acquainted."

"We all need to keep our strength up," she says. "For the journey to that cure Lae'zel spoke of."

Maybe I don't want a cure, you almost snap. But that wouldn't align with the image you've woven for them of a carefree magistrate who must have a comfortable life in the city worth returning to. They cannot know the truth. At least not until they trust you enough to tolerate a monster in their midst. Until you've proven yourself more useful alive.

So you regard the stew warily. Hunger gnaws at your gut, never sated, but only for blood. Still... After a full day in glorious sunlight, perhaps you could decide to push your luck just a bit further. Who knows what other remarkable exceptions to your condition the tadpole has provided? What's the harm in a little experimenting?

You tentatively lift the spoon to your mouth.

———

Later, while the others are asleep in their beds, your evening is spent retching up the meager contents of your stomach into the bushes. Turns out the mind flayer tadpole can't or won't alter every inconvienient facet of your undead physiology. Walking in the sun? Yes, by all means. Eating food? Very much still a no. Makes perfect sense!

"I see Gale's cooking really didn't agree with you."

Her voice manages to startle you. Not many people can do that anymore. Damn. It will be more challenging to seduce her after she's seen you like this, so weak and sick. It's okay. You are a professional, after all.

You fumble for an explanation that would satisfy your traveling companion. Would she believe a garlic allergy, or is that too on the nose? You could claim someone tried to poison you. Or you did it yourself to avoid the inevitable transformation but got the dosage wrong, play her sympathetic heart like the strings of her lyre. That could work.

But she doesn't ask any questions, for which you are immensely grateful.

Your stomach rolls and lurches painfully again. You taste something metallic on your tongue, subtly spitting out a clot of old blood into the grass. Pray she doesn't see; she would think it's already too late for you. She fears the tadpole—fears death, fears becoming something else, losing control of her body, as any reasonable person would in this situation. You almost want to tell her things can get so much worse than that. Worse than she is even capable of imagining.

"Astarion, hey. Breathe."

You breathe. There's a warm pressure against your back. Her hand, you realize, solid and soothing.

"Look at me?"

You look at her.

She touches your forehead. Gentle. You can't recall the last time anyone touched you like that.

"No fever," she mutters as if to herself, withdrawing the hand. Your eyes linger on the veins in her skin. "You feel too cold, in fact, you're shaking. Come sit by the fire."

You obey. Allow her to coax you over to a bedroll. Somehow you have fooled her into believing you're worth caring for.

"I didn't know you're a healer," you hear yourself saying. Where are you? You don't feel entirely present in this moment. Perhaps you haven't been for quite a while.

"Because I'm not. Just a mother," she says, a touch wistfully, and you realize how little you truly know about this woman whose throat you held a knife to mere hours ago. She carries herself like a soldier but calls herself a bard. Probably middle-aged, if the greying hair and lines beneath her eyez are any indication. And she has at least one child, apparently. You wonder vaguely if anyone waits for her back in Baldur's Gate. You wonder how it feels to be missed.

You don't know what to say, however, so you don't speak.

"It's okay to be scared, you know," she says quietly. "I'm scared, too. But we're in this together."

You laugh bitterly. She sincerely thinks it is fear making you ill, doesn't she, like some pathetic creature. A mistaken assumption, obviously, but...

You are, though.

Terrified.

A fear so bone-deep and familiar it is home to you. You're afraid this has all been some bizarrely wonderful nightmare, that you'll wake up any moment in a gloomy crypt with Cazador looming over you. Even more afraid that it's real and you actually have something to lose. You would sooner eat another wriggling parasite--hells, an entire pot of that damn stew—than go back to Cazador.

He will find you, you're certain. He will send hunters to track you down like a dog. Escape is impossible. This is nothing more than a brief reprieve in the misery of your existence.

You're a little afraid, too, of her. Of this unrelenting, undeserved kindness. Of what happens to you when it goes away.

"Why are you helping me?" you ask. She must want something. Everyone does.

"Maybe I just need you well enough to fight tomorrow," she offers. "Or, consider: you're a person who could use some help. Simple as that."

"You're too good for this sorry world," you say it like an accusation. Too good to me.

She shrugs. "Well, go with the first answer then. Need anything?"

"No, I think not."

The one thing you need, you don't dare ask for. Not yet.

"Try to get some rest, okay? I had last watch so dawn can't be too far off."

"Wait."

"Yeah?"

"I...I would appreciate if you didn't mention this to the others."

That earns a strange look from her, but she nods. "Of course. Good night, Astarion."

You watch the sunrise for the first time in centuries. It is completely worth the awful, sleepless night which preceded it. Your days are numbered, you know, between the parasite and Cazador, but you are damn well going to make every second of that freedom count.

[alleiwentcrazy]

“Wow, man, that’s nasty. You should get that checked.”

Someone’s standing in the doorway, Steve’s sane enough to notice that. This someone is wearing the infamous hospital gown, is hooked to an IV, and has Nancy’s hair. Which is exceptionally weird, because Steve has always believed that no one could achieve that kind of volume. Especially while living in a hospital.

This someone is also, not unlike Steve, wrapped in several layers of dressings to shelter their burns from everything that’s bad in this world: infection, stares, more pain.

(Steve isn’t so certain about the last one, though. He sure is in a lot of pain at the moment.)

So someone is standing in the doorway, he’s positive. This someone is staring at him, their gaze curious and open, and it’s not a nurse, and it’s not a doctor. Partly that’s why Steve doesn’t believe that this person is even real at first. His visitors must wear gowns and gloves—something about it being too early to risk an infection. So despite the hair, it is not Nancy.

It’s a someone. Maybe. Probably. Steve doesn’t know—his eyes are barely open and he’s too high on painkillers to differentiate between dreams and reality. When the sweet numbness overwhelms him again, he has half a mind to say: Maybe it’s an angel, standing in my doorway.

***

As Steve’s recovery progresses (and the amount of painkillers he’s being pumped with decreases), he gets more and more aware of reality.

For starters, he learns that he’s not living some sort of fever dream. He was—is—a firefighter, who got pretty badly burned, and his sides, some parts of his belly, back and arms need very special and very expensive treatment. Hence the hospital bed, the gown, the dressings, meds, pain, et cetera. This burn center is going to be his home for the next few weeks, and Steve’s okay with that. It means that he got to save a life, even if his own was put at risk in the process.

He can live with that, definitely. With the scars and the pain, no problem. What’s killing him now is his own curiosity.

He hasn’t been seeing angels, turns out. He’s been seeing fellow patients – one patient in particular. That someone who hovered over the threshold when he first started his recovery. Steve’s been seeing him almost every day, taking slow steps across the hallway, dragging his IV behind him, the patchwork of dressings and scarring tissue changing frequently.

Without fail, each time this man passes Steve’s room, his steps slow down. Sometimes, he sends Steve a wink. On better days, Steve supposes, when the scarring on his cheek doesn’t bother him that much, he gives a flash of a smile. Even on the worst days, when walking serves as torture, he acknowledges Steve with a nod, like they know and respect each other.

Everything about him is a mystery to Steve, though. He, too, returns a small wave or a nod or anything, but he still half-believes he’s seeing things that aren’t there, so when this man with long, wavy hair and ridiculously brown eyes passes his room again, he can’t hold it back any longer.

“Beth, who’s that?” he asks. Beth, his nurse slash new hospital friend, looks over her shoulder. When she finally figures out what he means, she smiles.

“Isn’t that your angel?”

He looks at her completely mortified.

“Please, tell me you’ve just made that up.”

Beth laughs and adjusts the position of his bed. “Sorry, love. I’m afraid that everyone heard your delirious tirades about long-haired angels taking you to heaven.”

With how heavily her “everyone” implies everyone, he doesn't even have it in him to groan. He shouldn’t have listened to Robin when she told him that his high is one of the best things in the world.

***

“How come you never scream?”

Steve’s eyes have been shut tight for the whole time his doctor was poking and prodding around his wounds, but now they’re wide open and he, too, wants to ask himself that. How come he never screams? It’s the most pain he’s ever felt in his entire life. It’s ripping him apart, it’s eating him alive, it’s killing him, but he never screams.

He just keeps his eyes closed, waiting for it to be over. Thinking about Robin and his kids, about how he has to stay strong and never show fear because it’s his job to keep them safe and away from the pain even if—or maybe especially if—it comes with taking the pain on himself, bearing it, being torn by it. He keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t think about his failures or the times he was too late to save them; he keeps them shut because he knows that there are going to be more times when he’ll have to keep his eyes open to spot the danger ahead.

But his eyes are open now, open and staring at the man standing in his doorway, backlit and glowing like some non-human entity, asking him such a simple thing that will, without a doubt, make Steve circle down the drain when he’s alone again.

Steve doesn’t dare open his mouth. He’d scream if he tried, and he cannot afford to do that.

“Mr. Munson, you really shouldn’t be here right now.”

Steve shuts his eyes back again.

***

Steve’s recovery is slow, slower than anticipated. When he first got here, his doctors said he’d be able to walk soon-ish, but it’s way past “soon-ish” now and he’s still tied to his bed. It still hurts like hell, he’s still woozy from the painkillers, even though the strongest stuff is out of the question, he’s made sure of that. He’d rather feel everything than risk another embarrassing situation. Maybe it’s stupid, but that’s how it is.

Mainly, Steve just feels lonely. He’s allowed to have visitors, but they can’t stay with him as long as he’d like them to—mostly because they have lives outside of this hospital while Steve’s entire life is in this hospital. He’s lonely, he’s bored, and he’s envious out of his mind, because the man from his doorway gets his walks every day and Steve dreams of nothing but being able to move a little.

Each time Munson walks past his room, he stares. He can’t help it. He doesn’t have a mirror in here, but it’s painstakingly clear to him that he’s glaring daggers at a man that hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s just so jealous—his body aches, but it’s a different ache; it’s an ache of being still for too long. An ache of being out of the game. Steve hates being out of the game. It makes him come up with the worst possible scenarios—but he has to thank both his burns and his head trauma for the dizziness, weakness and total lack of coordination that keeps him from starting physio.

With each passing day, his stares get more daunting, but the man doesn’t stop sending him smiles and nods. He knows it’s irrational and unfair, taking out his own fears and anger on someone who can’t do anything about his situation, who’s in an equally shitty situation, actually, but he’s still working on not being mean without a reason. And it seems so harmless, because this stranger never stops smiling at him. No matter how much Steve tries, he can’t seem to convey his feelings, because Munson never stops.

It irritates him even more, enrages him to a point. When Munson smiles at him one day, Steve can’t take it anymore.

“Are you always this chirpy?” he asks, his voice dripping of malice. It disgusts him a little, makes him want to retreat—retreat far away from the version of himself that he dropped years ago, although it’s haunting him to this day. He wants to retreat, but he doesn’t. He pouts instead.

Munson stops in his tracks, raises one eyebrow. He looks amused, and it pisses Steve off.

“Your life must be quite miserable if walking around a hospital with unhealed wounds is your definition of chirpy,” Munson says. It’s supposed to sting, probably, but his smile is still there, despite his injured cheek. Steve’s pout deepens. Munson looks like a cat who got the cream. “Oof, soft spot. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he coos, looking like he’d like to lean against the doorframe, but his injured arm won’t let him. “We can be miserable—oh, sorry. Chirpy, we can be chirpy together.”

Steve doesn’t respond, he doesn’t know how. He feels warm all over. It’s not something he likes. He’d cross his arms over his chest if he could.

Munson stays silent for a moment, a smirk still playing on his lips. The quiet moment stretches out until he takes a big breath and takes a look around. “I’m Eddie, by the way. And I’m very, very late for my usual ‘walk as much as you can but be reasonable, Mr. Munson’ appointment, so I have to get going. But, uh,” he looks at Steve like he’s not sure of something for the first time in his life, even though he’s still playing along. “I could come around tomorrow, Mr…?”

“Steve,” comes the reply. Munson—Eddie smiles, again.

“Alright then, Mr. Steve. Get ready to be the chirpiest you’ve ever been.”

***

The worst thing is, it works. Steve does get chirpier.

It starts out small. Eddie just stops in front of the threshold, spits out the most random, obnoxious and seemingly nonsensical (although Steve suspects they’re all true) fact, like Did you know that cows have four stomachs? or Did you know that geckos can’t blink and they have to lick their own eyeballs to keep them from drying out? or something of sorts, and then he leaves while Steve lies in his bed, suspecting that he’s having hallucinations and fully questioning his sanity. Again.

It gets progressively worse, it does. It gets weirder. At first, Steve isn’t sure what to think of it. Eddie’s strange. He’s also a nerd. He talks in codes, his sentences are long and Steve finds it hard to follow his logic altogether from time to time. But he also makes Steve snort, sometimes even laugh—truly laugh, laugh from his belly. Eddie’s weird, but he’s Dustin-weird, Steve decides. Good-weird. Familiar-weird. Safe-weird.

He makes him feel less lonely. Steve invites him to sit beside his bed after a few days, so now Eddie comes, spits out his random nerdy facts, and they sit and talk around it until the nurses kick Eddie out for not doing his laps.

Steve’s less lonely. He’s so much less lonely he even starts missing Eddie when they’re not together—only a little, but he does. (He knows it’s dangerous. But what’s the harm in that if they’re both stuck here anyway? What’s the harm in a little hospital vulnerability?) It’s quite difficult not to miss Eddie, to be honest. Eddie makes it difficult—he listens when Steve talks, he never hesitates before explaining something when Steve doesn’t get it immediately, he’s patient, but at the same time, he talks so much. The room fills with intricate, engrossing stories and anecdotes whenever he opens his mouth.

The only moments when Steve feels even less less lonely than when he’s with Eddie is when he’s with Robin, and Robin’s the most important person in Steve’s life.

“Contraband,” Eddie says, sitting down on the edge of Steve’s bed one day. He puts something on Steve’s thing – cherry jello and a plastic spoon. His favorite. “Don’t rat me out.”

He smiles at Steve. His cheek is practically healed now; the scar isn’t as big as Steve imagined it from afar, but it sure as hell must have been a menace to get it more or less healed. That’s the only thing they don’t talk about. How they got here, how they got their scars. They support each other through it, but they never dwell.

At least Eddie doesn’t. Steve’s sure everyone knows his story – people love when firefighters let themselves get burned to a crisp while trying to save somebody else, after all, and gossip spreads around the hospital with the speed of plague.

“And get my best dealer behind bars?” Steve asks and scrapes a spoonful of jello from the cup. “They never have cherry. You’re the only one that seems to know where they store it.”

Eddie grins devilishly and leans a bit further. “Do you want to know a secret?” he asks and Steve mumbles something unintelligible in response. “I used to deal,” Eddie says. Steve’s not sure if he does it on purpose or not, but he starts playing with the hem of Steve’s sock, his fingers barely brushing the skin on Steve’s calf. It tingles, but he doesn’t mind.

Steve’s brows go up. “Is that how you got here?” he risks, not really knowing why. He’s not that curious—but it’s the scar on Eddie’s face that’s been haunting him for ages now. So different from his own forming scars, yet, in principle, the same.

Eddie’s face gets softer. Steve can’t recognize the expression properly, it’s different from Eddie’s usual, mischievous smirk. It’s quiet for the longest time, so quiet Steve thinks he’s going to choke on his jello from build-up pressure.

“I’m gay,” Eddie says, suddenly, his voice totally cool and leveled while Steve—

“I’m bi,” he blurts out in response, practically out of breath. To his absolute horror, Eddie chuckles.

“Well, that’s useful,” he says around his crooked smile, “but that’s not what I meant.”

When he points at his face, everything clicks. Steve tries to control his face, but the realization is too sudden.

“What?” he asks before he can think better of it.

Eddie shrugs. His expression is unreadable, but he isn't looking at Steve anymore, his eyes fixed on his own fingers that are still playing with Steve’s sock.

“My band has this one place for gigs that we all don’t really like, but they actually pay us some money. I’ve always thought that it’s enough – this and my arrogance, anyway – enough to scrape by. I’m not too cagey about being gay, and I wanted to spite them, I guess, show them that they can’t win,” he looks up. He looks sad, almost defeated, as much as Steve hates it. “They got their way, as you can see. Tried to pour something on me when I was leaving the stage, but they fucked up, both in terms of chemistry and their aim. It didn’t get me as bad as it could have, so I guess I won anyway.”

Eddie smiles again, but it reaches nowhere near his eyes. He looks so sad, so hurt, and Steve’s so, so angry. It’s easy for him to turn to anger, it’s easy and it’s freeing and he suddenly feels bigger and stronger than he really is, because he wants to destroy something, anything—but he’s not a fighter. He’s a protector. He’s not Nancy; he’s Steve. No matter how hopeless, how betrayed he feels, he doesn’t want to hurt. He wants to heal and save.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, afraid it’s too dumb and too obvious.

“I know,” Eddie replies impassively, looking at him from underneath his too long bangs.

“You said you wanted to spite them. But it doesn’t matter, it’s not your fault,” he drills. Eddie opens his mouth again, but before he gets to say anything, Steve squeezes his knee and looks at him intently. “It’s not,” he insists. “Whatever you said or did, it never mattered. They would have done it even if you’d praised them, you were never the problem.”

Eddie scoffs, but it’s not malicious. His eyes are a little bit glassy. “So you’re saying I’m perfect?”

For some reason, Steve doesn’t have a problem with reading that. Please, let’s not talk about it now. Then foreign fingers graze his own, and he gets it. Thank you, though.

Steve sighs, something tugging at the corners of his lips. The change of topic makes this both heavier and lighter at the same time. He flicks his spoon at Eddie and aims perfectly between his eyebrows.

“Bring me more jello tomorrow and maybe I’ll grace you with saying that out loud.”

“So you’ve thought—”

“Shut up, Eddie.”

Their fingers intertwine in the silence that follows. They look at each other like they can see each other and suddenly, Steve feels the weight of this moment. They’re not strangers anymore—maybe they have never been strangers. Maybe this was meant to happen from the very beginning. He most probably wasn’t seeing angels a few weeks back, but whatever it was that he saw hovering over his threshold, it’s just entered his house and is, hopefully, planning to stay for longer.

[thatbxolivia]

warnings- mentions of chronic pain and cussing

tbh i don’t really have a name for this one just a summary!! you have chronic pain and you have a bad pain day and daddy takes care of you

sn- i myself only suffer from fibromyalgia so if this is too similar to that and/or it isn’t accurate depictions of other chronic illnesses im so sorry

———————————————

you woke up feeling like you’d been hit by a truck. you almost thought you were sick and these were fever pains. but as you moved and the familiar flash of nerve pain went up your spine, you knew it was a flare up for your chronic pain. you groaned, gingerly moving your legs out of bed and sniffling. this pain was very bad, worse than normal.

“daddy?” you called out weakly, and he came running.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he asked, crouching down to your level. “i’m here, tell daddy.”

“daddy, the pain is so bad today.” you sobbed. his face softened and he lightly rubbed your back.

“i’ll take care of you like i always do, i’m always here for you, you don’t have to worry about anything.” he reassured you. you sighed, knowing today would most likely take away all your mental energy just to stay alive.

“thank you…” you trailed off. “i’m sorry you have to, though.”

“don’t be, i’m happy to do it, always.” he said, gently picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the kitchen table. “let’s get some food in you.” he said, making breakfast. you sat in the chair, shifting uncomfortably against the hard backing. daddy noticed your pain and went to get you a pillow, adding at least some comfort. “it’s going to be okay, remember the flare ups always pass.” he said. and he was right, maybe it took longer than usual sometimes, but they always passed. you could deal with what you deemed your “normal amount” of pain. it was these flare ups with pain worse than usual that made it hard.

eventually, breakfast was ready and your daddy served it to you on your favorite pink plate that caught your eye at a traveling market. you just had to have it.

“eat up, baby. you need energy.” he told you, lightly kissing your forehead. the two of you sat in silence, eating, while anakin would occasionally check on you or fuss over you, helping you eat or wiping your face. you loved the attention.

“daddy, my back really hurts.” you told him, sighing. you’d been trying to ignore it but it was the worst pain today. anakin frowned and took your plate up when you were done, coming back over to you.

“let’s put salve on it, i know it doesn’t help a lot but it does help a little, right?” he asked, checking it was still true. you nodded.

“yes, daddy, it helps a little.” you confirmed. he brought you back to your shared room and had you lay on your tummy while he applied it to your back, careful as to not press harshly on any sore muscles. you soon felt the warmth from the menthol in the salve and felt some relief coming your way. you sunk into the mattress, feeling a little more at ease.

“would you like to just have a lazy day today? you can go back to bed, i’ll join you.” he said, lightly running his fingers through your hair. you were already exhausted just from barely being up an hour so you nodded, taking your body’s sign to relax today.

“yes please, daddy.” you said, turning your head to the side to look at him. he looked back at you, smiling.

“i got you. i’ve got you always.” he said. he always knew how to make you feel better.

[haru-natsuka]

The fate (Anastacius x Female Reader x Claude)

Chapter 3 : The abandoned prince

Life was not that easy for the little prince as one person looked at him with hatred while the remaining were ignoring him like he never exist. Most of the time, he was left alone and no one care whether he was in pain or was starving as the person near him would be punished. Only a few souls remained by his side and one of them was a brother who he shared the same blood with...

Female reader will be named as Celestial

At first, Celestial could see how the crown prince was being pretty reluctant in letting her go with him. It was an affair that happens in the palace and no one should discover the secret that the imperial royal tried to hide especially if that person was an outsider. Celestial knew that much as that was one of the things she keep on telling herself to remember but something was bugging her to go and she follows her instinct to act on it.

"Promise me to never let anything that you about to see be known to others?"

"I put my life in regard of the promise" Anastacius seemed to convince by her words and he left no time to waste any longer. His steps were almost like a run now as he rushed to be by his younger brother's side and Celestial, although it was not as ladylike or graceful as how she was meant to be, she just follow him quietly now. She requested it in the first place and she would not request more than that.

As soon as both of the royals arrive in Claude's chamber, Anastacius immediately went to his brother's side with a worried look as his brother was even struggling to answer him like he usually would. He was having a very high fever that even in his whimper state, his breath was hot. The room smells nothing like herbal medicine there is not even a sight of an attendee or royal physician. Truthfully, Claude is an abandoned prince and he would be entirely if it was not for Anastacius' love for his brother.

Celestial tried to examine Claude's state as she advance closer towards his bed. Her eyes gazed at the second prince laying figure from head to toe and she kind of could conclude one thing about the prince's true reason behind his sickness. This was where the unstable aura she keep on feeling from her arrival comes from.

"Claude, what happen to you beforehand? Please tell your brother. Did mother do this?"

Anastacius wasted no more time than to interrogate his little brother. Indeed, he felt slightly guilty leaving Claude alone. If the reason was his mother again, his heart would be broken into million pieces as he was at a loss on what he should do. He did not have enough power to protect his little brother from anything because he was weak...

"I- I don't know- b-but it hurt so much brother" Even in his painful state, Claude would not immediately blame the empress, Anastacius's mother for her action. He knew his presence was a threat to Anastacius's throne but no matter how many times he convinced the empress that he has no desire for the throne, only another punishment came his way and he let the empress has her way. After all, he was the illegitimate child of the emperor.

"I'm here, Claude. I will not go anywhere. Just rest and get better. You can go through this" Anastacius took out his handkerchief and used his mana to make it wet and put it on top of Claude's forehead. Anastacius looks like he wanted to cry as he can barely help his brother. The remorseful feeling was eating him alive. His mana was not that strong to heal him yet.

Without wasting any time, Celestial held her palm just above the handkerchief on Claude's forehead. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on healing the prince. She focus on her power to her palm until her face let out some sweat before she felt her energy transferred out from her palm. After the event finished, the princess left struggling to keep her breathing steady as she suddenly felt there was a lump in her throat which made her rarely could breath properly.

"Princess, are you alright?!" When Anastacius crunched beside her and put his small hand on both sides of her head, she just realize that she was sitting on the floor. Her legs must gave out when she used her ability. It was not her first time using it if non-human living could be counted. Without replying to Anastacius's enquiry, the princess whimper out for a name as best as she could.

"E-Eth-han..."

"Princess?" Anastacius tried to make out the words that Celestial whispered at the end of her breath and yet he did not know what exactly she said or what he should do now. The princess looked like she was about to faint as her eyes were closing slightly. His head moved left and right in a panic to figure out a way. If he shouted for help, would someone hear him? Did the servant who called him from before already leave? His mother must threaten all of them that if they even went near his brother's room, they would be punished severely.

Out of nowhere, a teenage boy appeared in the room which caught the prince off guard. He immediately wrapped his arms protectively around the princess and tried to act brave although his hand is shaking in fright while his heart was beating furiously. The intruder who was from head to toe wearing black cloth stepped closer to them and Anastacius tighten his grip on her as his tall figure loomed over them.

"WH-WHAT DO YOU WANT!"

"Calm down my prince. I just need to take care of my princess. Your hands need to release her" The mysterious boy easily unwrapped Anastacius's hands from Celestial like the kid's strength was nothing compared to his.

"Where are you taking her? Give her back!"

"I'm her bodyguard. You no need to worry prince"

The boy picked up Celestial and proceed to bring her outside from the room. He wanted to run after that boy but his short feet remained glued to the floor. He could not leave his brother alone at this moment and he also notice the embed in the boy's cloth early has the symbol of Selene Kingdom. Claude look stable now as he finally could sleep peacefully without feeling any pain but the unsettled feeling remain as his mind was focused on the princess's condition early.

Chapter 2 << Previous, Next >> Chapter 4

[themalevolentkitchen]

Intermission

✨Content 18+ - MDNI - Minors Don't Interact✨

Genre: Smut with Soft!Geto Suguru x Vulva Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Pet Names (sweetheart and baby), Unprotected Sex, Jumps right into the action, Hair in your face, Suguru pauses to tie his hair up, Sweaty, Skin to skin, Sensual, Fingering, Good Boy Suguru, Suguru does his signature purrs, slight cockwarming

Summary: Sugu has beautiful hair. And I’m jealous. Had this image of him tying his hair up and couldn’t get it out of my head.

Influenced Track: Nervous by The Neighbourhood

Word count: 741 words

Art Credit: Unknown (if you know please let me know so I can credit pls. I found it on Pinterest and a reverse image search didn't find anything)

All rights reserved © TheMalevolentKitchen

Notice: Mature Content. Over 18s only.

Also published on AO3

✨Content 18+ - MDNI - Minors Don't Interact✨

—-

This is something quite sentient. 

You’ve missed him. Missed this.

It’s like you’re speaking volumes, but not a singular word is being uttered between you. Both fervent. Heated. Aggressively loving. Addicted to each other.

Every rhythmic thrust into you has you arching into him. His hands caress your skin, delicately grasping at your hips. Skin to skin, he moulds his body seamlessly with yours, his head resting in the pillow beside you. Both misted in sweat and radiating heat.

Suguru’s uttering confessions in your ears, and you devour his pulse in response. The taste of salt lingers on your tongue. He’s wrapping your legs around his waist, perfecting the friction deliciously. Your tracing fingertips rise up his back, each muscle rippling and flexing. Sensitive.

When your fingers reach the nape of his neck, he shudders and groans into the pillow beside you. His signature purr vibrates your eardrum. Moving with fever to your lips, desperate to taste you. You card your fingers through his hair, brushing it to the side, but it falls forward - tickling your face and brushing against your skin.

He hums against your lips. Your fingers holding his hair back, exposing his neck - an opportunity to flat lick from his jugular notch to his chin. Feeling his voice box as he gulps reactively. 

Losing a hold of his luscious locks, it cascades down to your face once again.

Suguru lifts himself from you, resting on his knees and not once leaving your body. Reaching to the bedside table, grabbing a hair tie while you lay there watching. Your breath heavy and your skin glowing from his ministrations. Beautiful.

The black hair tie hangs between his teeth while he combs his hair back with his fingers. The shorter lengths framing his face as you observe his beauty, looking like a god between your thighs. Your pussy unconsciously clenching around him.

He throws you a look. Silently telling you not to tease him. 

He pulls the tie over his palm, tying up his hair into a bun with the other hand. Courteous to ensure you have no distractions from your high. The sweat beading on his skin catches your eye. Following the beads, like rain on a window, they roll down the contours he’s created, and glide effortlessly over his scars. Leading your eyes over his glorious body, and memories of times before.

Kneeling above you, he can see your eyes eating him alive. That your mind is racing with enticing thoughts by the way your pussy twitches around him involuntarily. Your arousal covers him with every flutter.

“Careful, Sweetheart,” pulling you from your thoughts and reminding you not to tease him, while he fastens the hair tie in place. 

He leans on his elbow above you, wrapping your legs around his waist once more. His other hand on your chin and angling your face just so. Lust-filled eyes taking in your blissed-out, rosy state. His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, red and swollen from his kisses.

Testing your nerve, you poke out your tongue and lick the tip of his thumb. His eyes widen at your boldness, so he has to nudge you where you’re still joined. The movement has you dropping your mouth wide, brushing over your sensitive spot deep inside. He pushes his thumb inside your mouth, resting on your tongue.

You begin to suck his thumb, tongue flicking around it as he picks up from where he left off. Sensuously slow but passionate, he submits every delicious movement into you and pushes you to the edge. You don’t break eye contact throughout, meeting his dark look with your own. His eyes rolling in pleasure as he feels your tongue wrap around his thumb. 

The deepest purr rumbles from his throat, vibrating down to your core. You reactively tighten, moaning and suddenly flooding around his length. You can’t hold on. You’re too close, and he knows it.

Desperate, Suguru pulls his thumb away from your mouth in a hurry, replacing the heavy loss on your tongue with his in a kiss. Dancing.

His hand at the nape of your neck, pulling gently and arching you into his warm mouth. Tasting every inch of you as you succumb to the burn in your stomach. You’re trying to speak, but whines and whimpers replace anything coherent. 

Suguru coaxes it out of you between kisses. Craving to feel you come undone around him.

“Hush, baby. It’s ok. Let go!”

[tomorobo-illust]

This may be a bit late, but I couldn't articulate my thoughts properly before. I wanted to tell you how good the page before last was, the one involving Ingo.

Up to that point the comic was a roller coaster of emotion as we watched Emmet, Zora, and Auntie Xena struggle to escape the caves and deal with starvation, sickness, and injury, ultimately leading Emmet to commit to sacrificing his own arm to feed the others. Once the climax was reached, things jumped all over the place, but I actually like how you did it. Instead of lingering to see the horrible aftermath, you cut ahead to when Zora finally broke through to the outside, showing us not only that she got better and survived, but also her obvious grief at what happened and her desperation to get help. You showed help arriving and Emmet being carried out by Xena, still alive for any who might have thought he died if they were only following the comic parts. Then you showed a brief flashback to the aftermath of the amputation, giving a clear explanation for why he did it in case it wasn't obvious to everyone.

Then after that double decker baconzilla of an angst burger, you cut to something completely different with Akari/Dawn talking to Rei/Lucas about what happened to Ingo, showing that Ingo felt his twin's pain throughout the whole ordeal. By showing/telling us that Ingo also came down with a fever and was bedridden for those few weeks, only to suddenly start doing much better after dreaming of eating a giant egg, we know that that must be the journey Emmet took after his amputation and subsequent rescue. Despite that, Ingo in still mentioned to be recovering, so we know that Emmet also still had some recovering to do from his injuries.

I love that you chose Ingo as a way to give this information, as not only does it indirectly tell us what's happened with Emmet, but it also cleverly brings Ingo into the narrative. We get to see what he's up to, how this affects him, and even at what point in the story it is compared to the game, since he knows the player character. You even managed to throw in a bit of humor, giving a moment of brevity from the heart racing events from before.

You could have stretched these pages out much more and focused on the carnage, but you sped it along and gave us only as much information as we needed about the big thing that happened, while weaving in some worldbuilding and character introductions. All in all, I think it was a FANTASTIC bit of storytelling.

BRAVO!XD

HOLY FROOT LOOPS!!! I am stunned and speechless and crying at this review you sent and I was not expecting such a detailed analysis of the Chapter 2 comic ;A;

THANK YOU!! I loved reading this and how you've articulated the story beats and story telling--even bits I didn't even realize what I did but just felt right pacing wise and you explained it so well in a way I wouldn't have been able to <3 <3

BLESS you so much for taking the time to write such a lovely review and for reading the comic!! Seeing this, I can feel how much you enjoyed it and that means so much!!! Please have this as thanks from me to you~

[ghouljams]

I am giving the go ahead to go and analyze. For I too am foaming at the mouth for the info dump of analyzing and putting songs to fics. I can't not listen to hozier when i read your works now.

Your works are just hozier coded to me

(am gunna also start signin off uvu)

- a hungry raccoon 🦝

My Darling I am Hozier coded. I am in love with that man, and nearly all my WIPs have a Hozier title because I'm a huge nerd. (I even got to see him in concert in september AAAAH he was so good)

Actually the Cowboy AU is the only one that doesn't have a Hozier title. Ghost/Goose's official title it "Here's Hoping(Things Look Better on the Other Side)." Which I'm not planning on changing but "I'll Crawl Home to You" would also work really well. Anyway Ghoul being pretentious under the cut.

So I am going to preface this saying that I believe Hozier has said the song is about addiction, the way it starts sweet and then you can't get out. But I have my own thoughts because I'm a romantic, and you're going to listen to them. I am going to interpret this as Ghost telling folks about Goose.

"Boys, workin' on empty Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby I'm so full of love I could barely eat There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be She give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

OK verse 1. The first two lines are very much Ghost's time in the military. He's not really there, he's an empty person, a shell for the SAS to command, and he faces hell every day like that. He's hopeless, but he doesn't have a need for it, hell is an inevitability to him. Lines 3 and 4, I think that's again him in the military. He thinks about the life he's never going to have. He barely eats, he's in survival mode, there's not a life worth living for him so he only does what he needs to. Then with line 5 we meet Goose, and with line 6 Ghost decides he never wants anyone else. There's nothing sweeter than his baby, no one that takes him the way she does, she sees him for all that he is and she wants him anyway.

Then the last line of verse 1. UGH. The guilt. This is Price's kid. He loves her but she's bad for him, he can't have her. And Goose is still sweet to him, even when they both know there's no future for this, she still is sweet. AND IT HURTS. It hurts Ghost to be around her and so he pushes her away.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin I woke with her walls around me Nothin' in her room but an empty crib And I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived But I swear I thought I dreamed her She never asked me once about the wrong I did"

Verse 2, we'll cover the chorus at the end. Yeah the sins. The SINS. Ghost pushing Goose away, but also a callback to how they met, to the bar and choosing each other. When Goose found him he wasn't a person, he was Ghost, he was bound for hell and nothing was going to lift him from the lake of fire. But then lines 3/4, Goose doesn't push to break his walls down, in fact she sets up her own. Stakes a flag on his head that say's "Goose's do not touch" and somehow that works. He has a safety net the likes of which he's never had before, and when he turns to look at Goose he realizes she doesn't have much either.

Line 4? She's given her whole life to a cause the same way he has, she's never made a choice that wasn't for someone else. There are expectations that she's taken on that no one should have asked her to. Ghost sees that, sees that he's a choice too and he has to decide if he's a good one. I think again(I know I've said this a million times) that Ghost has lived his career like he's dying. He's never cared about whether he makes it out alive, as long as the people he's watching over live it's fine. But Goose tells him, "you're not allowed to die" and he believes her. She never asks him what brought him to this point, but she's there when he's ready to tell her.

"My babe would never fret none About what my hands and my body done If the Lord don't forgive me I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me When I was kissing on my baby And she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free Heaven and hell were words to me"

Verse 3, lfg. Despite being a worrier, Goose really doesn't worry over what Ghost did in special forces. He served under her father, and that's worth its weight in gold. For all his "I'm dangerous" talk, Ghost has never raised a hand to her, never tried to hurt her, and never done anything to make her think that Price was wrong to recruit him. For all the bad he may have done, Goose holds onto Ghost's hope that it was all for the greater good.

They we wrap up the verse, lines 3-8, it doesn't matter if Ghost is bound for hell because he has Goose now, and whatever happens they're in it together. Goose accepts Ghost as he is, she loves him for all his flaws, and she has him body and soul. Lines 4 and 7 feel very much like an admittance from Ghost that Goose really wears the pants in their relationship. She's the one steering their ship, and he's perfectly happy to take her orders. It's freeing for him to put himself into the hands of someone who loves him so unconditionally that she would stand up at the gates of heaven and demand he be allowed in. She'd fight Gabriel himself for Ghost. But he'd never ask her to, because it doesn't matter anymore.

Heaven and Hell are just words, they're not a promise or a reward, or a weight around his neck. He has Goose, and she has him, and that's his heaven. He's free from trying to scrape a shred of forgiveness from a higher power, Goose is his God now.

"When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

Yeah Chorussss. We love the grave metaphors for Ghost, very cheeky little backstory nods. He's crawled out of a grave once, and he can do it again. Nothing will keep him from Goose, and the peace that she offers him. What's heaven, what's hell? He can find better rest in her arms, and he will always crawl home to her.

But also! "Lay me gently" GENTLY, he wants to be taken care of. Even in the lowest points of his life. He begs for it over and over between every verse. "Treat me gently, even if I leave it behind give me comfort." Over and over again. He doesn't expect comfort except in death, but by the end I have to think: who's laying Ghost to rest? Goose probably, and she will always treat him gently. Because for as big and scary as Ghost is, he craves softness. He's built tall walls to hide the cracks in his armor, to hide the delicate underbelly, but it's still there waiting to be loved. And Goose loves him, for all of it.